I gently pushed open the door leading to the castle laundry room, my heart still pounding in my chest. I had run all the kilometers from Dartveyn to Silyra, the land where the fortress was situated. Just before my departure, the shocked lady had been taken to the infirmary, where they would check her mental state. After her alarming words, she had started screaming, got up, and looked each of us in the eyes before beginning to mutter words in a language none of us knew. Panicked, many villagers had rushed out of their homes to find out the reasons for these screams... The whole village was gripped by a dreadful shiver upon realizing the extent of the situation. No one knew what to do, no one knew if the dead nature could pose a real danger to the villagers. How far would the phenomenon go? And above all, who had caused it?

Perhaps my father would have some answers. We realized I was the only one that could try and get something out of him. That was precisely why Draven, Love, and I had split up, since they couldn’t come with me. If my father saw them… I couldn’t even imagine what he would have said.

I made my way through the different corridors that would lead me to my room when I came to a halt, noticing my father pacing in his office. One of his messengers stood straight in front of him, and from his posture, I could sense the bad news. He knew. The Harpies had been faster than me... Of course.

“How is this even possible? No one saw anything.”

The messenger took a deep breath. “Dreid has no answers. She rushed here to announce what she had witnessed, but she has not communicated with the others yet. Maybe they'll have some answers in a few days...”

Dreid. The Royal Harpy. I grimaced and shook my head slowly. If anyone could know more about the situation, it was her. She was the eyes of the kingdom, and she was willing to do anything to satisfy the king's slightest desires. It was not common for a Harpy to become attached to humans, but Dreid had been faithful to my father since the moment they had met for the very first time.

If the conditions that had taken my mother had been unknown, the Harpy would have been the first one I would have suspected for her disappearance. However, Queen Rosalind's death had been caused by another type of winged creature.

“Tell her we don't have a few days. I need to know what's going on... I need to know how this is possible! Rosalind... Rosalind was sick. This can't happen.”

I strained to listen more closely, catching snippets of my father's muttered words and those of his messenger, when a hand gently landed on my shoulder. I jumped and clamped my hand over my mouth to avoid signaling my presence. My gaze met Daenella's mismatched eyes, and she observed me with her stoic expression, raising an eyebrow slightly.

“Miss. It is still very early. How come you are not in your bed?” She lowered her eyes a few centimeters to inspect the apron I had put back on, just in case. A shadow of a smile appeared at the corners of her lips, and she offered me her arm to lead me to my room. “The guards took leave as soon as the reception ended, miss. So you will not be bothered by any of them, which is, I suppose, the only reason why you would dress yourself as a servant, isn't it?"

She gave me a knowing look that signaled she knew exactly what I had done. Yet, she said nothing. With a reluctant sigh, I furrowed my brows and forced her to look at me again. “What were they talking about?”

“I am sure your father will tell you everything you need to know if, well, there is the need to, Princess.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, tilting my head to one side. Daenella was my governess, yes. However, she was also particularly perceptive, and she was the eyes and ears of this castle. It was as if the walls whispered secrets to her that should never be revealed... Yet, she kept each one of them and would take them to her grave. This one, however, I needed. My father wouldn't tell me anything, I knew it.

“You know me,” I said, taking her hand in mine. “if you don’t tell me, I’ll find my answers another way… No matter how.”

Daenella shook her head with a little smile, a smile that only I could see. She never revealed it to anyone else. She was always so serious and professional with the King, but with me… she was the mother I lost, even if she could never have replaced her.

She kept one of my hands in hers and led me through corridors of the castle that did not lead to my room. Some even contained rooms where I had hardly ever set foot... The only one I recognized was a small room at the end of a hallway. My mother's workshop. She crafted a thousand and one things there... jewelry, sculptures, stuffed animals that she distributed in the villages. After her death, I spent several days curled up there, staring at projects she would never finish.

Daenella led me in the opposite direction and used a key to enter a room that one would have to know about to notice. It was dark, but she quickly grabbed a candle from the small table at the entrance and lit it before giving me a glance. Sensing my curiosity, she sighed, “Your father never wanted anyone to come back here after the Queen's death... I did a little cleaning up, but nothing excused the replacement of a lamp..." My heart skipped a beat. So, this was a room that belonged to my mother? She moved slowly through the room, setting down the candle and lighting a few more. It was a very small room, filled with old books and ancient objects whose purpose I couldn't guess.

With my fingertips, I touched a very old letter, whose worn corners curved and whose ink had partially smudged. I didn't have time to read the content, since Daenella drew my attention to a canvas hanging on the wall. It depicted four men and two women, who seemed very close. Three of the men and one of the women had their arms around each other's shoulders, and the fourth stood behind the second woman, his hands on her waist. They all wore clothes I had never seen before. Long black cloaks touching the ground, with golden buttons as closures on which were engraved a symbol... A symbol I recognized as being the same as the one stamped on the letter.

“There's a legend. A legend from thousands of years, which everyone believes to be extinct. It's no longer told because it was said to be a bad omen, and that one day, he would return.”

I furrowed my brows. “Who would return?”

Her mysterious gaze locked onto mine. She seemed to disappear into a completely different world from the one we lived in and opened her mouth again. "The sixth sorcerer."

Twelve hundred years ago, six friends embarked on a quest filled with danger... Four men and two women, from six lines of powerful sorcerers who had watched over the kingdom in an atmosphere of peace and love for generations. They were young and eager for adventure. They had heard of a treasure... An invaluable treasure, whose location and contents were unknown, but offered immense power and a new source of magic unknown to all.

The six friends set out to find it, and after numerous equally dangerous obstacles and years and years of searching, they found it. Aldarion's Treasure, they called it. It contained six precious stones, each with properties that revealed the true intentions of the heart. It took several days to understand the essence of this treasure... The first sorcerer, the eldest, was the first to solve the treasure's riddle. He managed to harness the powers of the green stone, for The Balance, and then it was the turn of the four others, the blue for The Wisdom, the pink for The Passion, the red for The Strength, and the white for The Purity.

The sixth sorcerer refused his stone. The black stone, the stone of The Shadow. He expressed the desire to give it to his adopted little sister, who would no longer have to face the injustices she experienced as an elf again.

Upon their return to the village, victorious, he rushed to present his gift to his sister. But the stone rejected her, deeming her heart too pure for the black stone, and her heart withered. The sixth sorcerer flew into a rage and grabed the stone with the intention of using its powers to bring her back. The stone, accepting his grieving heart, consumed him, and darkness seized him. His emotions were controlled by evil, and he set out to kill the five sorcerers in order to capture their stones and reunite them... thus creating the real Aldarion's Treasure, the power to bring back the dead and never have to face loss again. They went to war, and the losses were heavy. Four of the other five sorcerers died, and the fifth surviving bearer was forced to separate the stones and hide them... across all the kingdoms, dreading the return of the sixth sorcerer.

I swallowed, captivated and frightened. I blinked several times, unable to assimilate Daenella's words.

“And... is this... is this real? All of this, did it really happen?”

She straightened up, a small smile playing on her lips.“I have no idea. That's what legends are, my angel. You can choose to believe it or not.”

She turned her head gently to look at the painting, and gently slipped a book into my hands. “However,” she whispered, “your mother believed in it.”

My breath caught. I examined the binding of the ancient book in my hands... "The Legend of the Mythic Stones of Aldarion." I furrowed my brows, sliding my fingers over the pages, and opened the first one. A painting similar to the one hanging on the wall covered it.

I shook my head. “But if it's the truth... If the sixth sorcerer has returned. What does it mean for us?”

“It all depends on his intentions. Twelve hundred years have passed... Perhaps he's ready to make peace."

I held my breath. “And if he is not?”

She gently took my arm to cover it with hers.

“Then I suppose we'll have to find those lost stones and defeat him... for good this time.”

I swallowed. My eyes scanned the room again, as if seeing it for the first time, with new knowledge... Everything here gathered elements of that legend. Sculptures, books, relics... My mother was passionate about this legend. Or was she... afraid of it?

“And... if one had to find them, where could they start?”

The glint of mischief in her eyes arrived as quickly as it disappeared, but I had time to see it. She turned away from me, took a few steps, and picked up what looked like an old letter addressed to the King with her fingertips. When she handed it to me, I noticed it was addressed to King Galen, who was my mother's father. So this dated from before my parents' coronation, over twenty years ago.

Daenella put a reassuring hand on my shoulder and moved away from me. “If I were a brave warrior capable of finding these stones and saving the kingdom... I would start with this.”

She started walking again, as if to conclude this discussion and erase the shining glint in her eyes. She disappeared into the castle corridors, leaving me behind with as many questions as answers...

~

When I returned to my apartments a few hours later, Gwendolyn, who was gently brushing her long brown hair with my hairbrush, froze upon spotting my reflection in the large mirror. Panicked, she hastily put down the brush and knocked over a box containing my hairpins, which fell to the floor with a crash.

“Oh! I'm... I'm sorry, Your Highness! I...” She hurried to gather the items scattered on the floor, put them back in place, and lowered her head to make a curtsey, wearing my lace nightgown that I had asked her to put on the night before. She continued, embarrassed. “I thought... I shouldn't have-”

I gently took her wrists in my hands and looked into her eyes to implore her to stop humiliating herself. She quickly closed her mouth and swallowed, her wide eyes fixed on my face. I smiled gently at her and turned her to face the mirror, to contemplate our two similar faces. I ran my fingers through her soft hair carefully and asked her to sit back down, which she did with a brief hesitation.

“Darling, never apologize for giving in to something that tempted you. You may be my servant, but if you look in this mirror, do you really see a difference between you and me?” I gently took my hairbrush and pushed back her brown strands to brush them. After a few seconds, I poured some oil into the palm of my hand and carefully applied it to her lengths. “How could I judge you when I have done nothing more than you to get where I am now? Moreover...”

I gently turned her face between my hands and tucked a strand behind her ear, analyzing the similarities of our faces.

“How about... wearing these nightgowns and living in these apartments a little longer?”

She questioned me with her blue eyes reflecting mine.

I glanced quickly at Daenella, who had just appeared in the doorway with a confident smile. She expected this monologue. She knew exactly what she was doing, telling me this legend. Talking to me about these hidden stones. Maybe I had kept my desires to join the Black Dragons from everyone around me... but once again, Daenella knew my secrets, like everyone else's. Silent and discreet, she observed and was forgotten, but she knew. And she was the last person who would try to stop me. I knew that. And I had made my decision.

I would find those freaking stones.