Days pass in a blur of travel, the ndscape shifting around me with every step. The road stretches on endlessly, each mile marked by an unfamiliar horizon. As the days blend together, I can feel the weight of the journey settling into my bones, the solitude presenting itself. The night grows cold, the distance between me and everything I've ever known growing wider with each passing hour. And yet, despite the quiet hum of the world around me, there's a strange stillness inside me, like I've crossed some invisible line, and I am no longer the same person I was when I set out.

  I now move through the world without looking back. My heart beats a little slower as if it's forgotten how to race. Even the fear that gnawed at me before seems distant, as if it has been swallowed by the vast road ahead. But no matter how much I try to convince myself that I am ready for what lies ahead, a part of me knows that the true test has only just begun.

  I reached the kingdom a few days after I departed the ferry. The castle is absolutely beautiful from the outside. I begin the long walk across the magical arched bridges to the imposing castle gates.

  Castle guards are stationed at every support along the stone arch bridge, standing as still as statues, their armor gleaming under the sun.

  The castle looms ahead, an imposing structure built from mountains that seem to grow out of the rocky cliffs below. It's a vast fortress, towering walls stretching high into the sky, with turrets and spires that pierce the clouds. The sheer size of it is overwhelming, a testament to the kingdom's power and wealth.

  How do they keep such an enormous pce so clean?

  As I reach the towering castle gates, two halberds sm down in unison, crossing before me with a sharp cng. The iron tips gleam menacingly in the dim light, effectively barricading my way.

  Before I can process what's happening, two castle guards materialize behind me, their grip like iron as they seize my arms. Rough hands cmp down on either side of my arms, forcing me to the cold ground.

  I grunted as my knees hit the gravel, the impact jarring through my body. I barely have time to struggle before the guard on my left twists my arm behind my back with brutal force. A sickening pop echoes in my ears, and a bolt of searing pain shoots through my shoulder. I scream, my voice ragged with agony.

  "Daniel Warren!" I gasp. My heart pounds in my chest, and panic cws at the edges of my mind. The guards' expressions shift from mere duty to a mix of suspicion and curiosity. They exchange gnces, silently questioning what to do with me.

  "You're not on the roll," one of the guards at the gate says, his voice cold and indifferent. His eyes bore into me. "We don't accept anyone through these gates on a Sunday."

  "I came to see Daniel Warren..." I insist, my voice trembling as I fight to stay conscious. "I'm a Rebrian Royal... my bracers... under my bracers," I add, hoping they will understand the significance of my words.

  The world around me begins to spin, my vision blurring as the pain in my shoulder intensifies. My head grows heavy, and I can no longer hold it up. My head falls forward, the coarse gravel beneath me digging into my cheek. I'm dimly aware of the guards' voices above me, their words a distant, muffled murmur as they debate my fate.

  Amid my pain, I hear footsteps approaching. Another voice joins the fray, sharp with authority. A woman, most certainly.

  "What's going on here?" she asks calmly. Everything is foggy, I can't understand a thing.

  ...

  All my concerns up until now are being confirmed through intuition. I don't understand how my mom could think these people would trust me without reason. She's always been so forgiving and trusting despite the cruel world around her. I say that, but she always knows what to do when it counts.

  Everyone made assumptions about my mother and her involvement with a common man. They talk about her as if she were the town harlot, a conniving woman of no notable worth. They say she humiliated the house she represented and gave birth to a disgrace.

  Being an illegitimate noble child isn't always the easiest. I've always reted to my mother in that aspect, we were both unwanted by those around us.

  I remember they would exclude me and my mother from any events held at the kingdom. War ceremonies, royal balls, and holidays. I tried to ignore the words that became of my mother, but it's hard when you know the truth of the matter. My mother was no harlot.

  She'd been pnning something for weeks before her death, letters she would spend hours writing in her room alone. My mother had a few undercover officials slip these letters across the border. I know she was talking to someone. She was never good at hiding things from me. Could Daniel be this person?

  She often talked about how others expected so much from her. There was something she was looking for. Whatever it was, it caused her to be more absent the past couple of months leading up to her death.

  The church bells toll noon, marking several hours since my arrival. I've been locked in a dim celr within the Azburelli Kingdom since I arrived. I've found myself speaking with Daniel Warren. At least whoever is in charge is gracious enough to grant me this.

  We've been talking for a few minutes now. He hasn't been very kind in answering my questions, not that he should. I am a criminal. For all they know, I could be a hitman hired to kill a royal. It doesn't make me any less frustrated as he continues to dance around my questions. I don't think going through the front gates of the kingdom guarded by knights is very hitman-like, either.

  "My mother told me to ask for you specifically. How does she know you? Why you?" I clench my jaw, tugging slightly at the chains binding me to the stone floor. The ck of trust was expected; royals from a rival country don't just appear unannounced.

  "It doesn't concern you," Daniel says bluntly, leaning against the stone wall with his arms crossed. So he does know something. He looks older than me, maybe in his early fifties, with dark brown hair, dark skin, and deep-set bck eyes. He's wearing a robe of some kind. It looks like the robe of a relic keeper. Relic keepers keep special artifacts, spells, and relics of the past safe. One can only assume he shares a close bond with the royals, for it takes immense trust to charge someone with protecting the very history that shapes the soul of this kingdom.

  "I have every right to know, and you will tell me." I seethe as his cold stare bores into me.

  "Your rank doesn't give you the right to order me around," Daniel retorts, annoyance cing his tone. "It amounts to nothing here. You should be grateful the guards haven't executed you yet. I mean, seriously, Aurelie? Trying to enter into a kingdom like that?" He shakes his head in disbelief. "You've put us both in a difficult position. They think I was complicit in your illegal barrier-crossing stunt." His tone is condescending, and he scoffs.

  "Don't say my name like you know me," I snapped. "My mother said you know what to do, so tell me what I need to do." I wince at the sharp pain surging through my shoulder.

  "I do know you." His voice drops in severity. He crouches down to meet my gaze through the bars. "You want help? Tell me the recipe for the glyphs on those bracers."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Those bracers you had there." He points to my wrists, and I look down at myself. I was in worse condition than I had originally thought. My body was covered from head to toe in bruises, scabs, and scars. It didn't help that my shoulder was in no better shape. My Rebrian royal emblem is visible on my wrist.

  "What did you do with my bracers?" My mother made it clear I shouldn't lose sight of them. They must hold value.

  "They helped you pass the ancient barrier separating our kingdoms. Where did you get bracers with glyphs like that?"

  "The bracers were a gift from my mother," I reply, frustration seeping into my voice.

  "Ah, sure they are. Your mother can't read Aurelie. How did you get those glyphs?"

  "My mother," I state.

  Daniel raises a brow. "Where is she? She couldn't come here herself? She had to endanger her only daughter instead."

  "It doesn't concern you," I threw his words back at him from before with a gre.

  "You know damn well what's going on here. I know your mother enough to know she wouldn't withhold information for the sake of her daughter's life."

  "Apparently, you know nothing about us." I snap, my irritation growing by the second. "Why did she send me to you?"

  "She wants to know how much I know. I thought we were clear." He stands back up, gring at me. "She's nothing but a crook. I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

  My confusion takes over, and I can't help but shake my head in disbelief. "What? I have no idea what you're talking about. My mother is not a crook, and neither am I." How dare he accuse us like that? "She wouldn't do something illegally unless she had a good reason."

  "Take this. You're going to need the history of Netholic's Valkmir War." He flicks a small book through the slim crack in the celr bars. It hits the ground with a thud. The book opened, lying sprawled out on the floor.

  "What's this?" I reach forward, straining against the chains to pull the book by my side. I really should be more cautious, but I'm curious.

  "It's the history they don't teach you in Rebria. I'm sure your mother has briefed you on it, but I'm not entirely sure how much she knows about it either."

  I flip the book over and straighten it out, then open it to the first page.

  "Stop. Don't read that yet. The seeker is coming to look into your memories. You'd best hope you aren't doing espionage work under the table." Daniel reaches out, holding onto an iron bar with his hand.

  He's trying to intimidate me with his words, but I know I have nothing to hide. Although I would like to keep the memory of my mother's death and the Rebrian monarch's death wish for my family to myself. Who knows what they'd do to me if they knew killing me wouldn't spark a fme? No one would come looking for me. No war would break out in my honor.

  "Is a seeker really necessary? They can only see a couple of weeks into the past, to begin with."He looks at me with condemnation in his eyes. "You're a spy, aren't you?" He wasn't asking; he said it matter-of-factly. "This will be hell to cover up, Aurelie." Daniel lets out an exasperated sigh, and his gaze travels to his white knuckles as his grip tightens around the iron bar.

  "Wouldn't they know you're helping me? You gave me this important book, didn't you?"

  His eyes then shift to the door, and I follow his gaze as a tall man with waist-length, silky bck hair, and a nose with a pronounced hump enters the room. "Drayor," Daniel acknowledges with a nod. The man returns the nod. Drayor's entrance causes a tense atmosphere to settle in the room. Daniel slips past him, their eyes not leaving each other until the solid iron door shuts, leaving me alone with Drayor.

  He approaches the celr door, unlocking it with a key. His long, skinny, pale fingers reach out for my face. I recoil instinctively. "Keep your hands off me," I demand.

  "You should be thankful the queen spared you. Her Majesty has ordered me to investigate your memories," Drayor says, his voice carrying an unsettling edge. "If you're truly innocent, this should work in your favor."

  "It's invasive," I say tersely. "How far back will you look?"

  "I am Netholic's strongest Seeker," he decres with a proud but eerie smile. "I can view a couple of months into the past." His confidence only heightens my anxiety.

  "What will happen to me if I'm not found innocent by Netholian ws? Things are different in Rebria." I dread the unknown. I've heard many rumors about how strict Netholic's rules can be compared to Rebria-and Rebria's rules are strict.

  "That decision rests with the monarchs," Drayor replies. He then reaches for my head again as I tug back on the chains. My shoulder throbs in pain, and my wrists ache as the pieces of metal sticking out on the edges of the cuffs pinch my skin. Tears of pain sting my eyes, but I continue tugging.

  I know tugging won't do any good unless I'm willing to rip my hands off for the sake of preserving my thoughts. Still, I refuse to allow him to read into my past willingly. Falling guilty under Netholian rules is one thing, but my pride is another.

  Drayor grabs me by my face and my throbbing shoulder, pulling me forward with force, jarring me.

  "They have yet to send a healer. Maybe they never will." He says, then pces his hands on either side of my head. The sensation of rapidly reliving past events begins to overwhelm me, making it difficult to repel him. It's suffocating, as if every moment is colpsing in on itself, with Drayor standing at the center of it all.

  I can't tell if this experience sts mere seconds or drags on for hours. The physical pain is gone, leaving only the haunting awareness of my memories. Some of which I'd rather forget. Two months can do a lot to a person.

  When it ends, Drayor releases his grip. He breathes heavily, his expression hard to read as he processes what he's seen. He takes a step back, his eyes narrowing as he studies me.

  "You should be killed," Drayor says, his voice ced with hatred. "We don't need another Elvornish pgue. If they keep you, they'll doom us all."

  "A pgue? I may look like a mess, but I'm not diseased."

  "I need to have a word with the monarchs." He stands up, straightening out his clothes.

  "What did I do? You aren't going to kill me, are you?" I asked with an incredulous tone, despite my inner torment. I knew this was coming ever since I made it to shore. No amount of mental preparation can prepare you for imminent death. Without another word or even a gnce over the shoulder, he leaves the cell. The metal door cngs shut. His silence was enough to presume my fate.

  I sit there for a moment before reaching behind me for the book. Is it the book that caused him to act in this manner? It couldn't be, otherwise Daniel would've had to have sacrificed himself just to have me beheaded.

  I open the book, flipping through the pages in search of pictures. I can read, however, not as well as most royals my age.