The Kingdom Beneath The Veil

Chapter Three: The Kingdom Beneath the Veil

The air was different here.

It was cooler, crisper, as if the very essence of time had been distilled into a single breath. Elara stood at the edge of a vast, silver plain, the grass shimmering like liquid metal under a twilight sky. The stars above were impossibly bright, their light casting an ethereal glow over the land. In the distance, the spires of a castle rose like jagged teeth, piercing the heavens.

Elyndor.

The name echoed in her mind, a whisper carried on the wind. She had found it. The lost kingdom. The place of legends.

But as she took her first step forward, a strange sensation washed over her—a feeling of being watched. She glanced around, but the plain was empty, save for the swaying grass and the distant silhouette of the castle. Still, the feeling persisted, a prickling at the back of her neck that she couldn't shake.

The walk to the castle was long, the silence unnerving. No birds sang, no insects chirped. The only sound was the soft rustle of the grass beneath her feet. As she drew closer, the castle loomed larger, its towering walls made of a strange, iridescent stone that seemed to shift colors in the starlight. The gates were open, their massive iron hinges rusted and crumbling.

Elara hesitated at the threshold. The castle was beautiful, but there was something… wrong. It was too still, too quiet. It felt less like a place of life and more like a tomb.

She stepped inside.

The interior was just as breathtaking as the exterior. Marble floors stretched out before her, their surfaces polished to a mirror-like sheen. Tapestries hung from the walls, their colors vibrant despite the centuries that had surely passed since they were woven. Chandeliers of crystal and gold hung from the ceiling, though no candles burned in their holders.

And then she saw them.

People. Dozens of them, frozen in place as if time itself had stopped. A woman knelt by a fountain, her hand outstretched to touch the water, which hung in midair like a glass sculpture. A man stood nearby, his mouth open in mid-laugh, his eyes crinkled with joy. Children played in the courtyard, their movements suspended in an eternal dance.

Elara's breath caught. They were alive, yet not alive. Trapped.

She moved through the castle, her footsteps echoing in the vast, empty halls. The further she went, the more she felt the weight of the curse that hung over the kingdom. It was in the air, in the walls, in the very stones beneath her feet.

At last, she reached the throne room.

It was a grand chamber, its ceiling so high it seemed to disappear into the shadows. The walls were lined with statues of kings and queens, their faces stern and regal. At the far end of the room, atop a dais of crystal and gold, sat the throne.

And on the throne sat the king.

He was clad in armor of silver and blue, his crown resting lightly on his brow. His head was bowed, his hands resting on the arms of the throne as if he had simply fallen asleep. But Elara knew better. He, like the others, was trapped.

She approached cautiously, her heart pounding. As she drew closer, she noticed the faint rise and fall of his chest. He was alive.

"Your Majesty," she said softly, her voice echoing in the vast chamber.

The king stirred. Slowly, he lifted his head, his eyes opening to reveal a gaze that was both ancient and weary. For a moment, he simply stared at her, as if trying to comprehend her presence.

"Who… are you?" he asked, his voice rough with disuse.

"My name is Elara," she replied. "I came to find Elyndor."

The king's eyes widened, and for the first time, she saw a flicker of hope. "You are… real?"

"I am," she said. "And I want to help you. Tell me what happened here."

The king rose from his throne, his movements slow and deliberate. He descended the dais, his armor clinking softly with each step. When he reached her, he placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch surprisingly gentle.

"Elyndor was once a kingdom of great beauty and power," he began, his voice heavy with sorrow. "But we were cursed by a sorcerer, a man who sought to claim our throne for himself. When we refused him, he cast a spell that froze our kingdom in time. Our people, our land, even the very air we breathe—all of it was trapped. Only an outsider, someone untainted by the curse, can break it."

Elara's heart raced. "How?"

The king's gaze was steady. "You must complete the Trial of Stars. It is a test of courage, wisdom, and heart. Only by passing the trial can you lift the curse and restore Elyndor."

Elara nodded, her resolve hardening. "I'll do it."

The king smiled, though it was tinged with sadness. "The trial is not without danger. Many have tried and failed. But if you succeed, you will not only save Elyndor—you will become a part of its story."

Elara took a deep breath. "Where do I begin?"

The king gestured to a door at the far end of the throne room. "Beyond that door lies the first trial. Be brave, Elara. The fate of Elyndor rests in your hands."

With a final nod, Elara turned and walked toward the door. As she reached for the handle, she glanced back at the king.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Alden," he replied. "King Alden of Elyndor."

Elara smiled. "I'll see you soon, King Alden."

And with that, she opened the door and stepped into the unknown.

The Trial of Stars had begun.