CHAPTER 5

[TIES OF PROPHECY]

Elvera was practicing at noon, channeling the soft stream of water flowing from her palms into a swirling orb above her head. With her eyes closed, she whispered ancient Noredian words, first turning the orb into shimmering ice, then melting it into steaming mist. She was getting better more precise. The power flowed through her, responding to her emotions.

Suddenly

"Shoooooo...!"

Startled, she lost focus. The orb collapsed into a gush of water, splashing violently to the stone ground around her, soaking her boots. She gasped and turned, only to find her brother standing with his arms crossed, a mischievous grin spread across his face.

"Erevan!" she scolded, brushing her damp hair away from her face. "You scared me."

"You need to be prepared for distractions, sister," he said with a chuckle. "What if you're in battle? One loud noise and you flood the castle?"

Elvera rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling. Erevan was older by Five years and never missed a chance to tease her. But she knew he watched over her like a hawk especially since their father, King Eren, had gone to the Council of Eldoria.

"What do you want?" she asked, conjuring a small wisp of mist between her fingers, letting it dance around Erevan's head playfully.

He batted it away. "What do you think? Who among the five rulers will be choose as an Emperor?"

Elvera tilted her head, watching the fading mist curl into the air like breath on a cold morning. "I don't know," she said softly. "They're all powerful... proud. I can't imagine any of them kneeling to another."

Erevan nodded. "Exactly. That's what worries me. The Council might have planted a seed of unity, but it could just as easily grow into war."

Elvera's eyes narrowed as she recalled the stories her father used to tell of ancient conflicts between realms, of blood spilled over thrones and titles. "Do you think Father... wants the crown?"

Erevan looked away for a moment, his expression unreadable. "He's wise enough for it. Just. Fair. But he's also tired. I don't know if he would want it... or if he'd take it for Noreda's sake."

Elvera bent down, her fingers skimming the surface of the water pooled at her feet. It shimmered and rose into a delicate spiral, freezing into a perfect crystalline bloom. "What if they choose someone else? Someone who doesn't care for balance?"

Erevan's jaw clenched. "Then we're all in danger."

They stood in silence for a beat, the weight of unspoken futures thick between them.

Then Elvera looked up, her voice steadier. "Then we'll make sure balance remains. One way or another."

Erevan sighed. "You become too gloomy, that's why I hate discussing things."

Elvera retorted, crossing her arms. "Nah, I'm not gloomy. You're just too dramatic. Always acting like you're carrying the weight of Noreda on your back. But the way you handle things are reckless."

Erevan scoffed, flopping back onto the bed beside her. "Excuse me for being responsible. Not all of us can spend our days swinging swords and pretending we're warriors in a fairy tale."

Elvera rolled her eyes and nudged him with her elbow. "Please. I could knock you flat in three moves."

"Only if I let you," he said smugly, shooting her a sideways grin. "Besides, I've seen you trip over your own sword."

"That was once and the ground was uneven!"

"Mm-hmm," Erevan said, stretching his arms behind his head. "And the time you kicked your own foot during a spin?"

"I was improvising!" she said, laughing now. "Unlike you, who vanishes for days and shows up like a mysterious hero with zero explanation."

Erevan shrugged. "It adds to my charm."

"You mean it adds to your list of ways to drive Father mad."

He chuckled, looking up at the ceiling. "Yeah... but I missed this."

Elvera softened, leaning over to rest her head briefly on his shoulder. "I did too."

"Even the part where I steal your snacks?"

"You did what?" she gasped, sitting up straight with mock betrayal. "That was you who took the honey tarts?"

Erevan grinned, unrepentant. "You snooze, you lose."

"You menace."

"You love me."

Elvera groaned dramatically, channeling the water in her palms as she held them out in front of her. The air around her shimmered with the cool mist of the magic she was manipulating, swirling like a gentle breeze before a storm.

"You really think you can just take the last of the honey tarts and get away with it?" she asked, her voice low, teasing, but with an edge of mock seriousness. A stream of water began to dance between her fingers, rising into a thin, twisting column of liquid that shimmered in the dim light of the room.

Erevan blinked, suddenly aware of the danger. "You're not really going to-"

Before he could finish, she sent the water spiraling in his direction, catching him off guard. Erevan yelped, ducking, but it was too late. The water splashed against his shoulder, and a small puddle formed on the floor.

"Elvera!" he protested, his hand trying to brush the water away.

She smirked, the water still swirling in her palms as she leaned back on the bed, satisfied with her small victory. "Next time, don't steal my tarts."

Erevan wasn't going to tolerate it, obviously. His magic was strong, protective, and unyielding. He had spent years perfecting his control over it, shaping it into a solid wall that could withstand nearly anything, but that is only a trick. And right now, it was the perfect solution to Elvera's water splashes.

With a sharp gesture, Erevan raised his hands, and a translucent, shimmering barrier appeared between them, just in time to catch the next splash of water she sent his way.

Elvera's eyes widened in surprise as the water bounced harmlessly off the shimmering force field completely drenching her, She blinked, her teasing smile faltering for a moment. "Really?"

Erevan stood there, smirking, his barrier solid and unwavering. "Oh, you didn't think I'd just let you win, did you?" He stepped forward, a gleam of mischief in his eyes. "Next time, you might want to check whether I've got my defenses up before you try anything."

Elvera narrowed her eyes, grinning despite herself. "You're such a show-off."

"Hey, a little defensive magic never hurt anyone." Erevan lowered his hands, letting the barrier dissipate with a subtle shimmer. "Though I have to admit, it's hard to keep up with your tricks. You're getting better with your water."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Elvera said, crossing her arms. "But just so you know, next time, I'm aiming for something bigger."

Erevan chuckled. "Good luck with that. But be warned, the more you challenge me, the more I'm going to enjoy watching you try."

Elvera rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress her grin. "It's on, then. But you better be ready for my next move."

They stood there for a moment, the playful tension between them palpable. No matter how much they bickered, they always had each other's backs. It was something neither of them would ever change.

ZION [THE VAMPIRE REALM]

Dear Cecilia,

I hope this letter finds you well. I am currently enduring the tediousness of my stay at the Council Palace, and to be perfectly honest, I find it quite boring here. In light of this, I have decided to visit Zion for a change of scenery.

By the time you receive this letter, I will likely be near the Zion borders. I kindly ask that you prepare the necessary arrangements for my stay. I look forward to your prompt preparations.

Yours truly,

Fate Stark

The narrator's voice faded as the final words of the letter echoed in the chamber. Cecilia placed the parchment down with careful fingers, her expression unreadable.

She never liked Fate Stark.

There was something about his presence that unsettled her not fear, exactly, but a constant sense of being watched by someone. His authority wasn't loud or aggressive, but it was absolute. And that, more than anything, disturbed her.

Cecilia had fought long and hard for her place her crown, her control, her command of Zion. To have someone like Fate, who seemed to answer only to prophecy and instinct, waltz in with his cryptic smiles and maddening foresight? It felt like a disruption she hadn't planned for.

And yet, here he was writing letters like an old friend and claiming boredom as the reason for his visit.

Boredom.

Cecilia scoffed quietly. No, she didn't believe that for a second. Fate Stark didn't move without reason. His actions always had layers, like riddles wrapped in silk. If he was coming to Zion, it wasn't because he needed a change of scenery.

Still, she had no choice.

She wasn't just receiving a guest-she was preparing to host the Creation of Destiny. He was more than a council leader. He was the thread that ran through every future vision, every ancient prophecy. Whether she liked him or not, his presence meant something. And she, as Queen, would have to play her part.

That didn't mean she would enjoy it.

With a sharp breath, Cecilia stood, her posture tall and commanding even in solitude. "So be it," she muttered, reaching for the bell that summoned her attendants. "If he wants a welcome, I'll give him one worthy of Zion."

She draped the halls in silver silk, prepare the rarest of vintages, and gather her most trusted minds. Not because she cared for his comfort but because power recognized power.

And if Fate Stark had come to Zion with more than boredom in his heart?

Cecilia would be ready for that too.

Cecilia rose from her seat and left the courtroom, her mind already racing with the necessary preparations. There was one thing she had to do before anything else inform Xyran.

As the Crown Prince of Zion, he had a duty to be present for the arrival of the Council's Head. And with Fate Stark involved, appearances mattered more than ever.

Cecilia quickened her pace. Xyran needed to be ready.