The dressing room was a disaster.
Not because it was messy. No. The elves kept everything immaculate, each garment folded with precision, each robe hanging like a whisper of silk against the polished wood. The disaster was Sera, who stood in the middle of the room, tangled in what appeared to be three different layers of fabric, her face redder than a smith's forge.
"I swear to every god that's ever ignored me," she snarled, yanking at a sleeve that had somehow twisted around her elbow, "if this stupid robe doesn't—"
The fabric ripped.
Ares, perched atop a nearby wardrobe, let out a sound that was suspiciously close to a snicker.
Sera's head snapped up.
"You." She pointed a finger at the dragon, her eyes were blazing. "I will pluck you like a chicken!"
Ares puffed smoke in her face.
Eryk, meanwhile, had already dressed himself in the attire laid out for him—a deep green tunic edged with silver thread, soft trousers, and boots that fit suspiciously well. He glanced at his reflection in the polished mirror and barely recognized himself. The clothes were fine, elegant even. They felt like a costume. Like he was playing at being something he wasn't.
"You look like an elf," Sera grumbled, finally wrestling herself into a dark blue robe that clung to her frame like it had been tailored for someone twice her size.
"You look like you're drowning," Eryk shot back.
Sera flipped him off.
Yavanna, who had been watching the entire spectacle with undisguised amusement, finally stepped in.
"Here." She adjusted the sash around Sera's waist, cinching it tighter. "Better?"
Sera scowled but didn't argue. "I hate this."
"You hate everything," Eryk pointed out.
"I especially hate you."
Ares chirped in agreement.
Yavanna sighed. "I'll be in the garden when you're ready. Try not to kill each other before then!"
With that, she slipped out, leaving them in the quiet of the dressing room.
Sera tugged at her collar, grimacing. "I feel like I'm wearing a curtain!"
Eryk smirked. "A very fancy curtain."
She kicked him in the shin.
Ares, now thoroughly entertained by their suffering, fluttered down to perch on Eryk's shoulder.
"Humans are ridiculous."
Eryk scratched under the dragon's chin. "And yet you stick around."
"I have poor judgment."
"Why are you talking to that overgrown lizard like you can understand each other?"Sera rolled her eyes. "Can we go? The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can burn these clothes!"
Eryk exhaled, the brief levity fading. The queen's summons loomed over them, heavy and uncertain. What did she want? More questions? More demands? Or just another reminder that they were guests here—tolerated, not welcomed.
He adjusted the cuff of his sleeve, his fingers brushing against the faint scar on his wrist.
"Let's get this over with."
~○~
The function hall was nothing short of breathtaking.
High ceilings arched like the ribs of some great beast, the wood alive with glowing veins of silver. The air hummed with magic, thick and sweet, carrying the scent of night-bells and something earthier. At the far end of the hall, seated upon a throne of woven vines and living blossoms, was the queen.
She watched them approach, her amber eyes unreadable.
Eryk bowed. Sera, after a pointed glare from one of the dames, did the same—though hers was more of a stiff nod. Ares, ever the mimic, dipped his head in a way that suggested he was mocking the entire concept of royalty.
The queen stood, her silver robes cascading around her like liquid moonlight. In her hands, she held a scroll, its edges gilded, its surface etched with runes that pulsed faintly.
"Eryk Thorn. Sera Elvida of Veldros." Her voice was cool and measured. "You have been granted sanctuary in the Silver Grove. But sanctuary is not without its conditions."
She unfurled the scroll.
Eryk's pulse quickened.
"You may stay," she began, "for as long as your presence does not bring harm to our people. Should you betray our trust, your stay will end—forcibly, if necessary."
Sera's jaw tightened, but she said nothing.
The queen continued. "In exchange for our aid, you will lend your strength to the Grove. The ogres gather at our borders. When they come, you will stand with us."
Eryk's stomach twisted. Not again. Not another war. Not another fight that wasn't his to wage.
But before he could speak, the queen added, "Eldrin will train you, Eryk. Your power as a Spellbreaker is raw and untamed. He will teach you control it."
Eryk's breath caught. Control. That was all he'd ever wanted. Well, apart from taking out the Null Grimoire in him.
Then the queen turned to Sera. "And you."
Sera stiffened. "I don't need training."
The queen's lips curled, just slightly. "No? Then you do not wish to reclaim your earth core?"
Sera's fingers twitched.
Eryk saw it—the flicker of longing in her eyes. The earth core had been her dream, her ticket out of the Ashen District. And now it dangled before her like a prize.
Besides, Eryk accidentally took the earth core inside of him.
The queen pressed on.
"Eldrin can restore it to you. But only if you agree."
Sera's nostrils flared. "I don't take orders."
"It's not an order," Eryk cut in quietly. "It's a chance."
Sera turned on him, her eyes blazing. "A chance for what? To die fighting someone else's war?"
"A chance to go back stronger," Eryk said, his voice low. "To walk into the academy and prove them all wrong."
The words hung between them, heavy with meaning.
Sera's throat worked. For a moment, Eryk thought she might refuse. Might spit in the queen's face and storm out.
Then, with a sound like a wounded animal, she relented.
"Fine."
The queen nodded, satisfied. "Then it is settled."
Ares, who had been unusually quiet throughout the exchange, suddenly piped up.
"And what about me?"
The queen arched a brow. "You may roam the Grove freely. So long as you do not set anything on fire."
Ares considered this. "Define 'anything.'"
The queen's expression didn't change. "Anything."
Ares sighed.
"Boring."
With that, the audience was over. The queen dismissed them with a wave of her hand, and Eryk, Sera, and Ares fled the hall before anyone could change their mind.
The moment they were out of earshot, Sera exploded.
"I hate this place!" She kicked a pebble, sending it skittering across the polished floor. "I hate the robes, I hate the rules, I hate the queen—"
"You hate everything," Eryk reminded her.
"I especially hate you!"
Ares chirped.
"This is entertaining."
Sera whirled on the dragon. "I will end you."
Ares blew smoke in her face.
Eryk sighed, rubbing his temples. "We should find Yavanna. She said she'd be in the garden."
Sera crossed her arms. "You find her. I'm going back to my room."
"Sera—"
"What?" She rounded on him, her voice cracking. "You got what you wanted, didn't you? Training. Control. A way to fix your stupid cursed book problem. But I—" She broke off, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "I just wanted to go home."
The raw and aching words hung in the air between them.
Eryk didn't know what to say.
Sera turned on her heel and stalked away, her footsteps echoing down the empty hall.
Ares nudged Eryk's cheek.
"She is upset."
Eryk exhaled. "Yeah."
"You should follow her."
"She doesn't want me to."
"She never does," Ares pointed out. "But you do it anyway."
Eryk hesitated. Then, with a sigh, he turned in the opposite direction. "Let's find the garden."
~○~
The garden was a sanctuary of quiet beauty.
Flowers bloomed in impossible colors, their petals shimmering with dew. The air was thick with the scent of night-bells and something sweeter, like ripe fruit left in the sun. Vines curled around stone benches, and a small brook babbled nearby, its waters clear as glass.
But Eryk's attention wasn't on the flowers.
At the far edge of the garden, standing at the precipice of a balcony that overlooked the kingdom, was Eldrin.
The old elf stood motionless, his silver hair stirring in the breeze, his hands clasped behind his back. He didn't turn as Eryk approached, but he didn't need to.
"You feel it, don't you?" Eldrin's voice was soft, almost wistful.
Eryk frowned. "Feel what?"
"The wind." Eldrin tilted his head, as if listening to something only he could hear. "It carries warnings. Whispers of what's to come."
Eryk's skin prickled. "The ogres?"
Eldrin nodded. "And more."
Ares shifted on Eryk's shoulder, his tail flicking. "What does the wind say?"
Eldrin smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "That change is coming. And none of us are ready."
The words settled over Eryk like a weight.
For a long moment, no one spoke. The wind rustled the leaves, carrying with it the distant hum of the Grove's magic.
Then Eldrin turned, his gaze piercing.
"Tomorrow, we begin your training."
Eryk swallowed. "What will it involve?"
Eldrin's smile was sharp. "Pain."
And with that, he walked away, leaving Eryk standing alone in the garden, the weight of the future pressing down on him like a storm about to break.