The Core of the Universe

As the palace gates swung open with a ponderous groan, Zeoth's dust-caked boots echoed against the polished marble floor. He lifted his gaze, and the sight before him stole his breath. The ceiling shimmered like a star-strewn sky, adorned with rune-etched crystals that drifted languidly, casting a soft blue glow that bathed the hall in an ethereal chill. Along the walls, statues of Ruthgard's ancient rulers stood in solemn vigil, their eyes glinting as though alive, watching the newcomers with silent scrutiny. Zeoth's heart wavered between awe and unease, caught in the grandeur of a world so distant from the humble village he called home.

Beside him, Elizabeth walked with her silver hair cascading over her shoulders, but her eyes were distant, lost in thought. The ordeal in the forest, coupled with the guard's frantic cry of "Emergency!" had left its mark on her. Zeoth gently clasped her hand.

"Are you alright?" he whispered.

Elizabeth nodded faintly, her voice barely above a breath. "Yes, I just… haven't quite shaken off what happened."

At that moment, the weight of the guard's urgent summons lingered, and they followed the path to the throne room. Within, a long table stretched across the chamber, strewn with maps, sealed letters, and hastily scrawled notes. King Ruthgard stood by the window, his reflection a silent sentinel in the glass. As Zeoth and Elizabeth slipped inside, he turned, his expression grave, and spoke without preamble.

"Word has come from Vaeloria. Prince Aelar was slain last night in an assassination."

The room fell into a heavy silence. Zeoth swallowed hard. Vaeloria, Ruthgard's staunchest ally, was a kingdom woven into the tales of his childhood—stories of golden-armored knights and sorcerers who felled dragons. Yet now, the murder of its prince cast a dark shadow over those cherished legends.

A guard stepped forward, his voice trembling as he sought permission to speak. "Your Majesty, there's more. Last night, our scouts detected unnatural magical disturbances deep within the forest. A unit was sent to investigate, but… they have not returned."

The king's fist clenched tightly, his knuckles whitening. "Everything is converging at once," he muttered, his gaze flickering briefly to Zeoth before shifting to a servant. "Prepare a chamber for Zeoth. The children need rest after all they've endured today."

The servant approached Zeoth with a courteous nod. "Please follow me, sir. I'll escort you to your quarters."

Zeoth trailed the servant out of the room, his steps hesitant. Elizabeth followed suit, her presence a quiet comfort as they left the throne room behind.

Meanwhile, in the village, moonlight glinted off Lily's staff as she made her way toward Zeoth's family cottage. The silence of the night was broken only by the whisper of wind dragging across the earth. When she knocked, the door creaked open, revealing Lira, Zeoth's mother, her face etched with worry.

"Lily?" Lira's voice quavered. "Where's Zeoth? Why are you alone?"

Lily recounted the events—the journey to the palace, the king's decision, the dangers that had unfolded. Her words were measured, but her eyes betrayed a deeper turmoil.

Toren, Zeoth's father, approached from within, his pipe smoldering in his hand. "You said Zeoth can't use magic," he said, his tone skeptical. "How could he defeat a mid-tier swordsman? It doesn't add up."

"I spoke the truth," Lily replied, closing her eyes briefly. "The king tasked me with informing you of what happened. Zeoth is with him now. I'm sorry—I couldn't stop it."

Toren's expression softened, though his voice remained firm. "Don't apologize, Lily. Zeoth's been talking about Elizabeth for a while now. As hard as it is for me to say, perhaps this is what's best for him."

Zeoth's chamber was nothing short of enchanting. The walls were adorned with delicate runes that pulsed with a faint warmth beneath his touch. The ceiling gleamed with stones that mimicked the stars of a village night, their light both dazzling and serene. The bed, draped in silken sheets, felt like a cloud beneath him. From the window, the forest stretched into the distance, cloaked in darkness yet imbued with an eerie tranquility.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Zeoth's thoughts churned. The tension in his chest tightened, as though a voice within whispered that this was only the beginning. Something vast was stirring—something monumental. He lay back, pressing his head into the pillow. "Ugh, forget it," he muttered to himself. "The academy trials are coming soon. If I want to get in, I need to clear my mind. For now, I just want to sleep."

Sleep, however, proved elusive. Each time he closed his eyes, the image of the forest creature loomed in his mind. A faint creak from the door startled him, followed by a whisper.

"Zeoth?"

Elizabeth's voice carried a tremor of unease. She slipped inside, her silhouette framed by the dim light. "I can't sleep," she admitted, settling on the edge of his bed.

Zeoth sat up, his voice soft. "Me neither."

Elizabeth's gaze drifted to the floor. "My father… he was different today. I haven't seen him this tense in a long time."

Zeoth's tone grew serious. "I don't think any of this is a coincidence. The world… it's changing."

"And you?" Elizabeth asked, her eyes searching his. "Are you changing?"

Zeoth hesitated, his gaze shifting to the window. "I don't know. Sometimes, I feel like I'm not myself."

Elizabeth's hand found his shoulder, her touch gentle yet resolute. "During the fight… it was like something else took over. You weren't the Zeoth I know. Please, don't scare me like that again."

Zeoth bowed his head, the weight of her words settling over him. Elizabeth's touch, tender yet emboldening, spoke volumes beyond words. She rose, moving toward the door. "My father will likely summon us in the morning. Try to rest. And later, you're telling me what happened during that fight. I thought you couldn't use magic."

Zeoth let out a heavy sigh. "I thought so too. I don't fully remember what happened, but I'm certain it wasn't any magic we know."

The door closed with a soft click. Zeoth sank back onto the bed, his eyes drawn to the forest beyond the window. His eyelids grew heavy, drooping slowly until they sealed shut. Within moments, sleep claimed him.

In his dreams, a sudden chill brushed against his face, and a voice echoed in his mind.

"I'm sure you have many questions, Zeoth."