Chapter 12: Whispers in the Flame

The aura in Eldrath had shifted.

It wasn't something I could point to. No sudden outburst or announcement but rather a quiet, creeping change. Ever since the Festival of Moons, the way people looked at me felt different. Warier.

At first, I told myself I was imagining things. That the sideways glances in the halls, the hushed voices just out of earshot, were remnants of my nerves from standing too close to Prince Eryndor for too long. But then I noticed the servants who used to smile now offered stiff nods. Courtiers stopped their conversations the moment I approached.

It was subtle, but it was there. I clutched the folded linens against my chest as I walked toward the courtyard garden, the weight of them grounding me. The soft clatter of a fountain filled the morning air, and the scent of dew-damp stone mingled with the faint trace of incense from the upper corridors.

As I passed the eastern arcade, I caught a pair of nobles speaking in hushed tones near a carved pillar. They didn't see me at first.

"…said the moonlight flickered when he stepped into the ring," one whispered. "It's not natural."

"Some say he brought it with him. A harbinger cloaked in foreign skin."

The speaker's companion, a taller man with silver-threaded robes, glanced around and noticed me. His lips curled into something between a smirk and a sneer. I held his gaze only for a second before walking on.

I found a bench near the old fountain and sat down, hands tightening around the fabric. The moonlight flickering… I hadn't noticed anything strange that night. But then again, I'd been too busy trying not to make a fool of myself in front of an entire royal court and a prince whose gaze could slice through steel.

A shadow passed over me.

"I thought I might find you brooding," Aiven said lightly.

I glanced up as she settled beside me, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. She was in her less formal garb today. Dark teal with slate-grey embroidery at the cuffs but still unmistakably poised, even while lounging on a weathered stone bench.

"I'm not brooding," I muttered.

"You're radiating existential dread. That counts." She tilted her head. "I heard about the rumors." I sighed. "You too?"

"They're spreading faster than morning gossip in the servant halls. And the nobles are eating it up."

"What exactly are they saying?"

She hesitated. "That the moonlight flickered the moment you stepped into the lantern circle. Some are calling it an omen others think it's sorcery. Either way, your name's on more lips than the prince's."

I let my head fall back against the stone. "I didn't do anything."

"That doesn't matter. In a court like this, what people believe matters more than what's true." Her tone softened. "You stand out, Minjae. That's enough to make some of them afraid."

"Then what am I supposed to do? Disappear? I'll gladly do that if I can go back to my world."

"No," she said firmly. "But you can lie low. Stay near the palace workers you trust. Don't wander into noble territory alone."

"I wasn't planning on visiting the royal wine cellar any time soon." She snorted. "Good. Because word is, one of the high ministers is already pushing to restrict your movement."

"What?"

"Quietly. No official decree yet. But the pressure is mounting. You should know who your enemies are."

The weight in my chest settled heavier. I didn't ask to be here. I didn't ask for visions, or sacred texts, or… whatever it was that flickered in the air during the festival. I just wanted answers. To find a way home.

Or, if that wasn't possible… to survive.

"Thanks, Aiven," I said quietly. She nodded and rose. "Watch your back."

—

Later that evening, I found myself drifting toward the archives again. The flickering torches cast long shadows across the vaulted hallway, and each step echoed with the soft hush of stone on stone. I told myself I wasn't going there out of defiance, more like necessity. I needed to understand why the whispers were growing. Why the visions in my sleep were growing more vivid. Why Elarin's warnings still rang in my ears days later.

The moment I stepped into the archives, a wave of quiet settled over me. Rows of scrolls and bound texts lined the curved walls like ancient sentinels. The scent of aged parchment, wax, and faint traces of incense curled around me like an embrace.

I passed the table where I first sat with Elarin. It was empty now, the flicker of lanternlight dancing across the polished wood. A sliver of curiosity pulled me deeper, past the charted stars and prophecy scrolls, toward the more heavily guarded volumes at the back. That's when I heard him.

"What exactly are you looking for?"

My heart lurched.

Prince Eryndor stood by the shadowed archway, arms crossed, the embroidered silver trim of his robe catching the lanternlight. His gaze was unreadable neither angry nor curious. Just watchful. Like a falcon before a dive.

I straightened. "Nothing dangerous, if that's what you're asking."

"Forgive me if I find that difficult to believe. You have a knack for appearing where whispers begin."

I flinched. "So you've heard the rumors."

"They're everywhere," he said coldly. "And not entirely baseless."

I looked at him sharply. "Do you believe them?"

He was silent for a moment, his gaze steady. "I believe Elyndra is balanced on thin ice. And I believe unknown variables are dangerous."

"Then I must terrify you."

A flicker of something, surprise? amusement ghosted across his face, but it was gone in an instant. "You're not the first outsider to find themselves caught in prophecy. But most are either pawns or sacrifices."

I took a step forward. "And which do you think I am?"

His eyes narrowed. "That depends on you."

There was a weight to his words that settled deep in my chest. We stood there, the air between us charged with unsaid things. He didn't trust me and maybe he shouldn't. But somewhere in the tension was a thread of recognition. As if we were both caught in a storm neither of us summoned.

Before he could speak again, a page arrived at the door and bowed low. "Your Highness. The council session is ready."

Eryndor's attitude changed back to his cold demeanor. He nodded once, then turned without another word, his cloak trailing behind him like smoke. And I stood there alone in the quiet, staring at the place where he had stood, heart pounding like war drums.

—

The echoes of Eryndor's footsteps faded down the corridor, leaving me alone with the dust motes drifting in the flickering torchlight. My chest tightened, the silence pressing in. Why had he come here? The crown prince, with his cold gaze and sharp words, was unlike anyone I'd met and yet, there was something about him that unsettled me more than the nobles' whispers ever could.

I turned back to the shelves, hands trembling slightly as I reached for the ancient tome Elarin had shown me. The leather was cracked with age, but the golden emblem embossed on its spine still shimmered faintly, an intricate symbol I recognized from the Festival of Moons. The one that had sparked those strange flickers of light.

Opening the book, I found myself drawn into a labyrinth of prophecies, histories, and cryptic poems. The pages revealed secrets of Aurenholt's past: wars fought in shadows, rulers bound by blood and magic, and a prophecy of a foreigner entwined with the fate of the crown prince.

My fingers traced the faded text, heart pounding as fragmented visions flashed behind my eyelids, flames dancing under a crescent moon, a silver-haired figure cloaked in mist, and a voice that called my name from beyond time.

I swallowed hard. This was no ordinary book. This was a key, one that might unlock why I'd been ripped from my world, why the crown prince's cold eyes haunted my dreams, and why the kingdom trembled beneath the weight of silent threats.

The door creaked behind me, and I spun around, breath hitching. Eryndor stood there again, closer this time, his dark hair falling slightly over his brow, eyes burning with unspoken questions.

"Why do you persist in these secrets?" His voice was low, edged with something between suspicion and something I couldn't yet name.

I met his gaze. "Because the truth matters. Because if I don't understand… I won't survive here."

He stepped forward, closing the distance between us, and for a moment, the cold armor of his courtly demeanor faltered, revealing a flicker of vulnerability.

"Survival is a dangerous game, Minjae."

A shiver ran down my spine not from fear, but from the magnetic pull of his presence. I wanted to ask him what he truly thought of me. If, beneath the icy exterior, there was a sliver of hope or just another shadow. But the moment shattered as footsteps echoed once more, pulling him back to duty.

He paused, voice cold. "Stay out of trouble."

And with that, he was gone leaving me with the weight of unanswered questions, the flickering flame of prophecy, and a kingdom that whispered secrets in the dark.