12. Hall of Lanterns (1)

As the swirling portal continued to turn, Freya and Drax passed through it, heading to the other side of it.

It was instant as they appeared on the other side as soon as they entered the portal from outside.

After taking a step away from the portal, it closed up automatically, leaving behind a large demarcated portion of a wall that looked like a door.

Drax blinked, tilting his head slightly to the side as he couldn't fathom what was going on.

Most certainly, it was from magic but he was not exactly sure how that worked.

However, he didn't have to worry about it since the room they arrived in immediately stole his attention just like the colourful garden had done.

It was a room that shone with a reddish-orange hue.

The red part of it came from the many flowers that were kept in vases of different sizes and placed at different corners of the room.

The orangish light was from the many lanterns that floated in the air above them.

Now that Drax looked up, he could only see several lanterns and no ceiling.

The ceiling, instead, was an infinite dark space and the innumerable lanterns floated up there, like stars in the night sky but orange in colour.

He clutched the chest area of his mother's dress and swallowed as fear gripped him instantly.

"Oh? What is it, my dear?" Freya asked as she followed her baby's gaze, looking up at the dark space above them and chuckling.

"Oh, dear. Did it scare you?"

Drax bobbed his head.

He couldn't measure the extent of this dark space nor could he count the number of lanterns.

'This place is even much better than in the books,' Drax thought to himself.

It was like making a futile attempt to measure the sky and count the multiple stars that appear on it at night.

Freya pulled him in and stroked his hair gently to calm him down as she proceeded to the end of the room that faced them.

In front of them was a very small, flat table made of some fine polished wood and on top of this table was a parchment and a writing brush resting on its centre.

The scroll was empty and dry, looking both old and new at the same time, and next to the right corner of the table was a small defined pool of ink with a clear circumference.

This pool of ink was circular with a diameter that barely reached 8 centimetres.

Its circumference was very well mapped out against the floor, where a clear distinction could be made between the two.

However, the striking thing about this pool of ink was that it was not inside any container.

The pool of ink was simply on the floor, still fresh and wet without any signs of drying up anytime soon.

Everything about the Hall of Lanterns… in fact, since they climbed down the flight of stairs, everything so far left the little half-elf prince fascinated.

As much as he relished the magical view of this place, he couldn't help but look towards the floating lanterns more.

They were like floating, pumpkin-shaped, orange balloons and yet, Drax could tell that they were not ordinary.

…Nothing here was ordinary.

While he was still drawn in by the view of the lantern, he felt his body lower, and immediately, he shifted his attention to his body.

Freya smiled at him and then pointed to the parchment and the brush on top of it.

Drax looked at the items and then his mother, who encouraged him to go ahead and use them.

"Go on, sweetie. Write the name you want on the scroll," she said while giving him a thumbs-up. "Make sure it's cool."

Drax knew exactly what he was supposed to do with these items and had only allowed Freya the honour of instructing him just so she could feel happy and involved.

Noble elves like Freya and Drax have the fastest growth in the elven race, and the case was even more spectacular for Drax, who also inherited a second lineage that was strong as well — the dragon line.

As a baby, he showed remarkable development.

Drax started to understand Freya and Alucard before he was one month old and started expressing this to them at about the same time.

He carried out little instructions that they would dish out to him.

As time passed, he started to speak as well before six months and soon started to read when he was close to one year.

Before then, the Elf Queen made it a duty to always read stories to her baby but when Drax started to read, he wished to read on his own and at his chosen pace.

Freya obliged him sometimes as much she disliked missing out on such sessions.

She got him books upon books, which were basically all fictional until he was a year and six months old.

For the past six months, however, Drax had been learning real things about the world of Nethria.

Although this was a bit-by-bit process because Freya did not dump real-world literature on him like she did with the fictional ones, Drax was grateful.

He was happy that he was, at least, making meaningful progress and learning about things that will matter.

Drax toddled through the short distance and in a few steps, he reached the small table.

He looked at the parchment and it was empty, so he took the brush and dipped it inside the pool of black ink.

Freya tried to peep from where she was watching from behind him but she didn't understand the name the little boy had written.

'Huh…?'

Freya blinked and pouted her lips as she tried to figure out what that word was.

She could read it but had never heard it before.

Drax finished writing and as soon as he was done, the ink at the tip of his brush instantly dried up, leaving the brush as dry and unused as he met it.

The little boy expressed a little surprise at this but nothing here could shock him so much anymore.

Drax turned to his mother and spread his arms.

Freya walked over and lifted him.

"What did you write?" she asked cutely, rubbing her forehead against his.

Drax let out a tiny, tinkling laughter as he clapped his hands.

"Drax!"