Chapter 3
Dressed in a simple, deep-green gown that complemented her chestnut hair, Selene walked toward the town square. She clutched a small satchel filled with vials of her best tinctures and salves, hoping to make a modest profit. Yet her thoughts were far from her work. The visions of the golden throne room and the man in shadow lingered, their presence as vivid as the scent of lavender that clung to her fingertips.
As she reached her stall, a familiar voice pulled her from her reverie. "Selene! You look lovely today."
Turning, she saw Calum, the blacksmith's apprentice. His boyish grin and unruly blond curls had charmed half the young women in Eldhaven. Selene offered him a polite smile. "Good morning, Calum. Are you enjoying the festival?"
"Trying to," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "But it's hard to focus on anything when you're around."
Selene's cheeks warmed, but before she could respond, a sharp, icy breeze swept through the square. It was unnatural, cutting through the warm spring air like a blade. The crowd quieted, and all eyes turned toward the town's entrance.
A group of riders entered Eldhaven, their cloaks as dark as midnight. At their forefront was a man with piercing gray eyes and an aura that demanded attention. He dismounted with a fluid grace, his boots crunching against the cobblestones. The emblem of Solvara—a golden sun encircled by a crescent moon—gleamed on his chest plate.
Whispers rippled through the crowd. "Solvaran soldiers?" "What are they doing here?" "Do you think they're here for the festival?"
Selene's heart raced. The emblem was achingly familiar, stirring memories she didn't know she possessed. She clenched the edge of her stall, her knuckles whitening. The man's gaze swept over the crowd, and for a fleeting moment, it landed on her. His eyes narrowed slightly, but then he turned away.
"Citizens of Eldhaven!" he called, his voice commanding and clear. "I am Captain Darius of Solvara. We seek no harm but come bearing urgent news. A fugitive of great importance has been spotted near your borders. Anyone with information is urged to come forward."
The crowd murmured, uneasy. Eldhaven was a quiet town, far removed from the political machinations of kingdoms. The idea of harboring a fugitive seemed absurd.
Selene's pulse thundered in her ears. She couldn't explain why, but she felt exposed, as though Captain Darius's words were meant for her and her alone. She forced herself to breathe evenly, to appear calm. The last thing she needed was to draw attention.
That evening, the festival reached its peak. Fireworks painted the sky in bursts of gold and crimson, their brilliance reflected in the river that wound through the town. Musicians played lively tunes, and the square became a dance floor. Yet Selene couldn't shake the unease that clung to her like a second skin.
She wandered to the outskirts of the square, seeking solace in the shadows. The dreams had left her feeling unmoored, and the arrival of the Solvaran soldiers only deepened her sense of foreboding.
"Selene," a voice said softly behind her.
She turned to see Old Maren, her face illuminated by the warm glow of a nearby lantern. "You've been quiet today," Maren observed. "Is something troubling you?"
Selene hesitated. She trusted Maren, but the truth felt too vast, too strange to share. "Just tired," she said finally.
Maren's gaze lingered on her, sharp and discerning. "Be careful, child," she said at last. "The past has a way of catching up with us, even when we don't remember it."
Before Selene could respond, Maren disappeared into the crowd. Her words left a chill in their wake, an echo of the unease that had plagued Selene for weeks.
Later that night, as the festival wound down, Selene returned to her shop. The streets were quiet now, the lanterns flickering softly in the cool night air. She locked the door behind her and leaned against it, exhaling slowly.
The dreams. The soldiers. Maren's cryptic warning. It was too much.
She made her way to her worktable, intending to distract herself with her tinctures. But as she reached for a jar of chamomile, a sharp pain lanced through her head. She gasped, clutching her temples as images flooded her mind.
She saw herself—no, Lysandra—standing in the golden throne room. The man in shadow was before her, his face now clear. It was Darius, though his eyes were softer, filled with something she couldn't quite name.
"You betrayed me," she heard herself say, her voice trembling with anger and sorrow.
"Lysandra, I had no choice," he replied, his tone pleading. "You must understand…"
The vision shifted. She felt the blade again, the cold steel piercing her back. And then she saw flames, consuming everything she had ever known. The pain was unbearable, a searing agony that tore through her very soul.
Selene collapsed to her knees, gasping for air. The vision faded, leaving her trembling and drenched in sweat.
"Who am I?" she whispered again, her voice breaking.
In the silence that followed, a single thought emerged, clear and undeniable: She needed answers. And she would find them, no matter the cost.
The next morning, Selene packed a small bag with essentials. She couldn't stay in Eldhaven, not with the visions growing stronger and the Solvaran soldiers lingering in town. She needed to uncover the truth about her past, about Lysandra, and about the betrayal that had shattered her life.
As she stepped out of her shop, the sun just beginning to rise, she found herself face-to-face with Captain Darius.
"Leaving so soon?" he asked, his tone neutral but his eyes sharp.
Selene's heart skipped a beat. "I have business in the next town," she lied, keeping her voice steady.
Darius studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Safe travels, Miss Selene."
She nodded in return, forcing herself to walk calmly past him. But as she left Eldhaven behind, she couldn't shake the feeling that Darius knew more than he was letting on.
And so, with the weight of two lives on her shoulders, Selene set out on a journey that would unravel the threads of her past and shape the destiny of her future.