How could I have trusted Zyar and Sylas so deeply that I followed them into another dimension without hesitation? They claimed I was the rightful heir to the throne of Elindros, a right the Losniws had renounced long ago. But who can guarantee that the Velqorins don’t harbor hidden intentions that might ultimately harm the majority of the Elindine?
At first, I was told that the Losniws could never ascend to the throne, as they were bound by an ancient connection to the Sonatius Mortaeda. And now Zyar wants me to believe that Eldralith Entium had been lying all these years to preserve peace? Why would such a young girl make such a sacrifice? Why was she, of all the Losniws, able to sense the presence of the Sonatius Mortaeda?
I look at the book in my hands, its weight increasingly feeling like a burden. “I don’t think I want to serve as a vessel for that monster. It’s a burden that was placed upon me, but one that was never meant for me.”
“Even if that is true, you know the Sonatius Mortaeda will not allow another change of vessel,” Zyar reminds me of his earlier words. But how much can I trust him? “I know you have many questions weighing on you. But I need my rest now. Sylas, please escort Vespera to her room.”
Zyar doesn’t even let me respond. He rises from his solitary armchair and steps out into the garden.
“You need your rest, too,” Sylas says in a gentle tone. That smile…! It drives me insane. If I can’t trust these two Elindine, then why do I feel so at ease around Sylas? How does he manage to soothe my anger? Is it because of the blood pact we made? Or have I actually fallen for him, even just a little? Back in the castle, I thought it was simply because he gave me the attention I’d been denied all my life. “Tomorrow, you and Father can continue your arguments.”
I cast one last pensive glance toward the terrace door. Across from the fireplace, a wide staircase leads to the upper floor. But Sylas steers me toward a spiral staircase we reach after leaving the living room. The hallway in this house is long and narrow, with numerous paintings adorning the walls in vibrant colors. One of them depicts the Velqorin estate, though the facade isn’t black but a warm sandy hue, giving the impression of standing on a beach gazing at the sea—or, as in this painting, the sky.
“The paintings are all mine,” Sylas remarks, clearly noticing my admiring gaze. “I used to paint often while my father was away on assignments for the king. Nowadays, I don’t have the time anymore since I accompany him everywhere.”
“How old were you back then?” I ask curiously. Sylas pauses, his eyes lingering on a painting of two hands intertwined—one belonging to a man, the other to a woman.
“I stopped painting when I was fourteen.”
“Zyar left you alone at such a young age?” I ask, shocked. “He must have been gone for days!”
“That’s true,” Sylas says, casting a final fond glance at the painting before moving on. “Mrs. Str?mert, a very kind woman from the village, looked after me during those times. I lacked for nothing.”
How could a man radiating so much positive energy not be trustworthy? Is it Zyar’s behavior that stirs my doubts? Perhaps I should wait before making any judgments. But what difference would a decision make? I can’t simply leave the village. What would await me outside? Isn’t this newfound freedom just an invisible chain still binding me to Zyar and Sylas? A prison without walls?
I’d best gather more knowledge about Elindros. The book Zyar gave me should provide the information I need—or so I hope. But how much of it will be the truth? Can I trust Zyar’s claim that the book truly belonged to my mother?
The spiral staircase winds through several floors. Without stepping onto the first, I steal a fleeting glance and see more doors further down the corridor. How many rooms do two men need? We continue upward to the second floor, which we enter. The doorframe is made of thin, intricately woven metal wires, engraved with unfamiliar symbols. I won’t ask Sylas about them. Though they intrigue me, I’d rather not waste my time on such questions now.
He leads me to a door that looks no different from the others and places a key in my hand. I stare at it in disbelief, committing the feel of its material to memory.
This is the first time I’ve ever been given my own room, let alone allowed to keep the key. For many, this might seem mundane, but for me, it feels like a precious gift—a symbol of freedom and safety intertwined. Sylas steps aside to let me enter first, and I am immediately greeted by an intense smell. Instinctively, I cover my nose, and my expression seems to worry him.
“Are you alright, Vespera?” he asks with concern in his voice. “Are you feeling sick? Should I cook you some soup? I’m sure you barely ate during the festivities in the human world!”
I shake my head and explain, “It’s just the smell in this room. It’s very strong.”
“Oh, my apologies,” Sylas murmurs, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. He opens the window to let in some fresh air. “This room hasn’t been used in a long time, and I might have gone overboard with the cleaning.”
“You clean it yourself?” I ask, surprised. “In the palace, that was always the servants’ job—and it was exclusively women who did it. Forgive me, I don’t mean to sound spoiled, but in the human world, this kind of work is often assigned to women.”
He waves my comment away. “It’s different in Elindros. We’re more progressive in that regard. I enjoy cleaning. It clears my mind, and I appreciate living in a tidy environment.”
His words give me pause for thought, but my gaze soon drifts around the room. A magnificent fireplace on the western wall catches my eye. Its most remarkable feature is the deep blue flames, reminiscent of an endless ocean. This fire, which likely never extinguishes, must be Zyar’s doing. The flames cast a soft, almost magical glow across the walls and the thick carpet, enveloping the space in a warm, otherworldly ambiance.
For a moment, I feel the urge to lie before this mesmerizing blue, clutch a pillow, and simply absorb the stories lingering in the air. But I resist the temptation.
“Those Synnx... they tore a strand of my hair out,” I remind Sylas in a hushed voice. “If they’re such skilled trackers, maybe I shouldn’t stay in one place for too long. What if they find me here?”
He looks at me, his eyes radiating a soothing warmth. “You’re safe here,” he says firmly. “My father, a Legate of the Elements, has ensured that these walls will protect you. You can rest and enjoy your freedom here.”
His words sound like a promise, yet the concept of freedom within walls remains alien to me. I step to the window and look out over the village of Solnya, which spreads out below in full view. The villagers catch my attention immediately—their vividly colored hair is a striking feature. Do they dye their hair? Perhaps it’s a common custom here.
The village of Solnya unfolds across a tranquil, almost storybook-like landscape, surrounded by gentle hills and ancient forests whose shimmering leaves sparkle as if imbued with the energy of the Solniws. The houses are built of wood and stone, each unique, adorned with intricate carvings that curl like vines over the facades. The window frames are polished wood, some inset with colored glass that glimmers in the light. The roofs, covered in earthy or softly tinted shingles, give the buildings a whimsical silhouette.
Vine plants entwine the verandas and extensions, while wind chimes and bells gently sound in the air. Every detail of the village’s architecture reflects its connection to nature and the individuality of its inhabitants, giving Solnya a harmonious and inviting atmosphere.
Winding, cobblestone paths weave between the houses, lined with lanterns that cast a warm glow during the evening.
The villagers of Solnya are just as remarkable. Their vibrant hair, in shades of blue, pink, and violet, makes them appear like living gemstones strolling through the streets. Their attire is simple yet elegant, adorned with intricate patterns that give it a refined appearance. Some wear flowing capes that ripple in the wind, while others are decorated with radiant crystal jewelry. The atmosphere is relaxed, though the occasional glances I catch reveal a mixture of curiosity and perhaps a hint of skepticism towards me, an outsider. Were the villagers informed of my arrival?
Solnya feels like a dream, made tangible by my sudden escape from the human world.
“An open window might have helped to clear the scent,” I say with a wry smile.
Sylas smacks his forehead and chuckles softly. “You’re right. That would’ve surely lessened the rose fragrance.”
He gestures toward a door. “The bathroom is there. You’ve had a long day and had to process a lot of new information. Rest now. Later, you can visit the library. My father will start your training tomorrow.”
“Training?” I repeat, surprised.
“Yes,” he replies with a knowing smile. “To awaken your powers. As a Losniw, you have the gift to influence time—at least your own. The book Zyar gave you will explain everything you need to know.”
After Sylas leaves the room, I am surrounded by a familiar silence. It carries echoes of the past eighteen years of my life—lonely and full of struggles. Yet today, it feels different. Almost like a promise of a new beginning.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
I head to the bathroom, letting warm water cascade over my skin, washing away the weight of the day. Afterward, I sit by the window with the book in my hands, watching the Kairon fish in the pond, tirelessly swimming in circles. The sight reminds me of my own journey—endless yet filled with mysteries.
Taking a deep breath, I open the first page of the book and begin to read. A new chapter of my life has started, and I am ready to uncover the secrets of my origin.
The pages of this book are intended only for the eyes of the Losniws. Those who do not belong to us shall be denied our knowledge.
We welcome you, Losniw.
This book is no ordinary one—that much I suspected, but only now does it become undeniably clear. How could Zyar have known that its contents would reveal more about the Losniws to me? My mother must have told him something about it! Could she have entrusted it to him? A sudden thought strikes me like lightning: if it truly came from her, then Zyar should not have possessed it. That would mean... it was stolen.
Even the first pages whisper secrets that ensnare me like an invisible web. The book becomes a traveling companion, guiding me into the hidden world of the Losniws, like a guide through shadowy realms waiting to unveil their truths to me.
The gift of the Losniws is proof of our ancient bond with Elindros. We are among the first Elindine, who existed long before the founding by Keldor Entium.
Enhanced abilities of the Losniws in memory weaving
An overview of advanced practices and theoretical extensions
The gift of the Losniws to “weave” the past of a place or object and make its memories visible is one of the most profound and symbolically significant powers of Elindros. Beyond merely making the past visible, Losniws have the potential to further develop their ability, which extends far beyond basic understanding. Below are eight advanced techniques and concepts that could be available to skilled Losniws:
I. Multilayered Memories and Weavings
Losniws who perfect their art could not only reveal the recent past of a place or object but also learn to choose between different layers of the past. Advanced practitioners might be able to examine both the events of the last few hours and the centuries-long history of an object. This ability allows them to weave and interlink events, uncovering complex connections and gaining deeper historical insights.
II. Emotional Resonance
In addition to visual memories, experienced Losniws might also perceive the emotional layers of a place or object. Some places are marked by intense emotions such as joy, sadness, or anger. By capturing these emotions in their memory fabrics, the Losniws gain a deeper impression of the events and emotional legacy of a place, often revealing hidden truths.
III. Interaction between Memories and Elements
A fascinating possibility lies in the connection between memories and elemental magic. Memories could be linked to specific elements in such a way that their visual presence is enhanced through the use of the Solniws’ elements. A Losniw might be able to “read” the memories of a shipwreck more clearly with water, or reconstruct what happened during a fire with the help of fire. This ability fosters an intense connection between elemental magic and memory magic.
IV. Temporary or Partial Manifestation of the Past
Especially gifted Losniws could not only make memories visible as fabrics but also temporarily manifest them in reality. This allows others to not only see the past but also hear or even feel it. This technique enables Losniws to selectively display certain details from the past for outsiders, a method that can be invaluable when investigating historical events or conducting investigations.
V. Influencing or Rewriting Memories
An even rarer and more advanced extension of this ability could be the influencing or even rewriting of existing memories. With this, Losniws could “hide” certain memories or weave new ones into the fabric that did not exist before. This power to manipulate the perception of the past, however, raises significant ethical and moral questions and is therefore forbidden in Elindros.
VI. Energy Consumption and Exhaustion
The weaving of memories is inseparably linked to the life force of the Losniws. The further they look into the past or the more detailed they weave a memory, the greater the mental and physical exhaustion. Only the most experienced Losniws can withstand the demands of the oldest and most intense memories, and the use of this ability requires careful and mindful application.
VII. Transfer of Memories to Other People
Masterful Losniws can make their memories accessible to others by directly transferring them into a person or object. This allows others to experience the memory as vividly as if they had been there themselves. This technique is used in historical studies and investigations but could also lead to the creation of strong, unforgettable connections between those involved.
VIII. The Weaving of Memories as Art and Ritual
The ability to weave memories holds a profound cultural significance in Elindros. In ceremonies and rituals, Losniws could artfully weave significant events to preserve and pass on history. They become “guardians of memory,” carrying the knowledge of past times vibrantly into the present – a role that is viewed with great respect and dignity in society.
The Losniws – manipulators through and through! All these clues lead to only one conclusion: there is no other explanation! That the king would forgive Velris Entium, after everything she has done? Obviously, one of them must have manipulated her memories! But such power is only attributed to the most talented Losniws. Did Velris ever possess this potential? Probably not. But how many Losniws would it take to entangle all of Elindros in this lie? What could drive the king to pardon the murderer of Keldor Entium? After all, the kingdom lost one of its most powerful protectors with him. There must be a deeper reason, something that remains hidden from me. And yet – can I trust Zyar’s words?
For centuries, the Losniws have held the Sonatius Mortaeda. And thanks to my mother, I now bear this burden. But where is the ancient being now? Is it still kept in a vessel in Losnat? Or is it wandering freely in Elindros, just waiting to encounter me?
My thoughts circle without a clear outcome. But one thing is certain: the truth lies in the past—and it rests in the hands of Eldralith. If I only strengthen my powers enough, I could weave the memories of the past and reach them! How fitting that Zyar wants to train with me. Although his motivations don’t entirely align with mine, I will find a way.
Determined, I lie down in my bed, the pillow soft under my head, the blanket protective over me. In the human world, it is summer, but here the icy cold of the approaching winter already reigns.
Before falling asleep, I once again sink into my thoughts. About the man I once called father, and who now has to live with my disappearance. About Isilyn, my mother, who left me to this fate, and my biological father, whom I never had the chance to meet. Does he still live somewhere in Elindros? Why did my mother flee with me to the human world? And has she ever returned? Since my arrival in Elindros, there has been no trace of the mysterious voice that once guided me. Its guidance was the reason I arrived in the Nexari. But since then, it has never appeared again.
The silence of the night finally lulls me to sleep. The next morning, I am awoken by the soft sound of the Kairon. A new day has dawned. Zyar has planned to work with me on my powers today. Surely he wants to test just how powerful the future queen of Elindros truly is.
Without wasting any time, I prepare myself and hurry to the lowest floor. But no one is there. They are probably already in the garden. Suddenly, I hear a sharp whistle and turn around, startled.
“Would you like something to eat before you start your training?” Sylas asks, a smile on his lips. “I tried one of the human dishes. I got some delicious strawberry jam in D?mmerhain. I heard you spread that on your bread.”
“What were you doing in D?mmerhain?” I ask, astonished, as I take a piece of bread with jam. “That’s all the way at the other end of Velarion!”
D?mmerhain, a city in the north of Velarion, is known for its legendary D?mmerhain Guardians, who are famous for their exceptional archery skills. But the city is also known for its delicious jam, which had been a secret indulgence for me in the human world. However, I had always kept this joy carefully hidden, afraid that the queen might take even that small comfort away from me.
Sylas sips from his drink, which suspiciously resembles coffee. But here, in Elindros, it could be anything...
“My father and I had to search for you for a long time,” Sylas admits, a hint of exhaustion in his voice. “In Elindros, no one knew that Isilyn Entium’s daughter had become the princess of the human world.”
“How did you even know who to look for?” I ask, curious.
“My father only looked for your mother’s reflection, hoping you would resemble her,” he replies, shrugging. “We were first in Lyndorn, then at Frostfels, on to Eisenfurt, and finally in D?mmerhain. When we decided to search for you within the kingdom itself, my father recognized you immediately. He sensed the same vibrations he once felt from your mother.”
“The same... vibrations?” I repeat, still confused.
Before Sylas can explain more, our conversation is abruptly interrupted. A loud clearing of the throat breaks the silence. Zyar stands in the doorframe of the terrace door, his gaze serious and determined.
“Your focus should be on the future, not the past,” he says calmly, motioning with his thumb over his shoulder. “It’s time to begin your training.”
“Oh, excuse me if I’m taking a little of your precious time,” I say sarcastically, walking towards him. “I’ve barely been here for a few hours and I’m supposed to give myself to the Sonatius Mortaeda as a vessel to claim the throne of Elindros. Don’t you think I deserve a few answers?”
“No,” Zyar answers coldly, without hesitation. “I understand that everything is new and overwhelming for you, but we don’t have time for doubts.”
“Zyar, what’s your real goal?” I ask quietly, but with the sharpness of a sword. “Why do you want to overthrow the king?”
“It is not my desire to cause anyone harm, Vespera,” he says calmly, but I can sense the insincerity in his voice. “The prophecy shows another path for Elindros.”
“What prophecy?” I press, my impatience now evident.
“The one that is meant to restore balance to Elindros,” he replies, but his answer remains vague and closed off.
“Elindros is balanced!” I contradict, my voice rising slightly with confusion. “The Kairon and Aetherion ensure stability! Why must I sacrifice myself and become the vessel, when order has already been secured?”
Zyar gives me a scrutinizing look. “Do you really believe this state is suitable for Elindros?” he challenges. “The very fact that we know so little about the Nexari brings us to the edge of ignorance. The problem starts there.”
Confused, I stare at him. What is he trying to say? The fact that we don’t know everything is only natural! That’s what makes life... lively. Doesn’t he understand that he can never create a world of perfect peace?
“How do you plan to convince all the Elindine who are loyal to King Valron Feroy of this prophecy?” I ask, my words almost a whisper as I try to grasp his intention.
Zyar claps his hands once, as if to scatter the doubts with a single strike. “Once the Sonatius Mortaeda grants you its power, all of Elindros will follow the new queen.”
A sick feeling pulls through my stomach. “That feels... wrong,” I admit, my words barely more than a quiet confession. “Should I force the Elindine into obedience?”
Zyar seems not to notice my concerns. He gives me a brief, assessing glance, then abruptly turns and steps out into the garden. With a quick gesture over his shoulder, he motions for me to follow.
“This is your destiny, Vespera,” Sylas says quietly behind me. I turn around and look at him with disappointment—he, my protector, who swore loyalty to me. “I know that much feels wrong, but the current situation in Elindros can only be improved by you.”
As I silently follow Zyar, Sylas’ words swirl endlessly in my mind. The Astralis is in my possession. Just the thought of it opens up a web of escape routes: I could travel back to the human world or escape to another dimension, live a life far from the burden of this prophecy, far from Elindros. A life without weight. But then I remember my decision to nearly take Lord Louweris’ life—and the feeling grips me that there will be no peace for me, here or in any other world. I could escape myself, yet... what if I face a new fate there, one that costs me my life? No. The only way forward is here, in Elindros, until I discover more about my true origins. The truth is the only thing left to me.
“Stand here,” Zyar commands sharply, pointing to a mark in the grass. His gaze leaves no room for dissent. “Your training will occur in several stages. The next few days will demand everything from you. I’ve learned much from the teachings of the Losniws, and I will push you to your limits. Failure – I will not accept it.”
Failure. The word echoes in me, thudding like a blow against my pride. I am meant to be the future queen of Elindros, and yet he dares to speak to me in such a tone, showing so little respect? I look down at the spot on the grass, feeling doubt spread through me like a dark cloud. How much can I really trust Zyar?
