The sky had turned a dull gray, and clouds, heavy with promises, slowly gathered above the village. My steps, once confident, had become slower, more hesitant. My boots, stained with dirt and moisture, clung to my raw heels. Every movement caused a grimace to form on my face.

 I had left Thatchford at the first light of dawn, hoping to reach a neighboring village before nightfall. According to the innkeeper, a cartographer lived there—one mad enough to keep ancient maps and sell his secrets to those who still believed in forgotten roads. I had latched onto this lead like a drowning woman clinging to a plank.

 After several hours of climbing rocky hills, crossing thorn-choked paths, and plunging into a damp thicket, I was no closer to my goal. The sun was shining. My lips were cracked, my throat so dry it felt as if even my saliva had abandoned me.

 The silence was suffocating. The birds had fallen silent, as if the forest were holding its breath. I leaned against the twisted trunk of an ancient oak, wiping the sweat from my brow with the sleeve of my cloak. The leather scraped against my burning skin.

 I closed my eyes for a moment, silently praying that my legs would carry me just a little further. The ground seemed to sway beneath my feet. Dizziness took hold, and I had to kneel to avoid collapsing. I had walked for miles without sighting a single Vigortias, which I desperately needed at that moment.

 “You can’t stop now…” I murmured to myself, the bitter taste of frustration rising in my mouth.

 But what was the point? My strength was fading. My thoughts were muddled. If I didn’t find water or some way to move faster soon…

 I was about to continue my journey, driven by pure survival instinct, when a sound reached my ears, as if the sky had read my thoughts. It was faint at first, then grew louder: the rumble of wheels over a stony path. The creak of iron.

 I straightened slowly, my heart racing, gathering all my strength to run toward the edge of the forest where the sound was coming from. I dashed into the road just as a cart, pulled by two frantic horses, thundered toward me, their nostrils steaming and hooves pounding the ground in fury. I barely saw the driver’s arms flailing as he yanked the reins, shouting a warning.

 I jumped back at the last moment, my foot slipping on the earth as the hooves brushed against the hem of my cloak. A curse rang out from the front of the cart as it came to a sudden halt, sending a cloud of dust into the air.

 I coughed, my heart in my throat, as a figure opened the carriage door and stepped out with swift steps.

 “By the gods, are you completely reckless?!” roared a deep, commanding voice.

 I looked up, breathless, my heart hammering in my chest.

 The man standing before me looked every bit the noble: fine leather boots, a coat embroidered with silver, and that upright posture reserved for those taught from childhood to rule. His dark hair was pulled back, and his chiseled features reflected both nobility and arrogance.

 “You could’ve been killed,” he continued, stepping closer, his eyes locked on me. “Or my horses could’ve been injured. Do you think the roads are a playground?”

 I straightened up, adjusting my cloak to hide my face, and gave a slight bow, more to conceal my discomfort than out of respect.

 “I’m sorry. I… got distracted.”

 I looked away, feeling panic crawl down my neck. He couldn’t recognize me. That was absurd. He had never seen me before. And yet… each second under his gaze made it feel as though my identity was written on my forehead.

 “Distracted? Peasants are rarely distracted enough to throw themselves under a cart,” he said with an acid tone, adjusting his coat aggressively. “Or perhaps you’ve been taught a special kind of caution down south?”

 His tone was biting, condescending. He watched me as one would observe a curious creature running without its head. A cold anger flared within me, burning through the panic. I clenched my teeth, refusing to reply. His voice was assured but cutting, as if he deliberately sought to unbalance me. I forced myself to keep my head down, not letting him read more than necessary on my face.

 He squinted at me. His gaze lingered longer this time. Something shifted. His expression, once tight, became more attentive, almost… intrigued.

 He tilted his head slightly, as if to study me better.

 “Do you have a name? Or should I simply refer to you as the one who charged at me, screaming like a possessed woman?”

 I narrowed my eyes.

 “Screaming? I barely even breathed hard.”

 “You startled my horses.”

 “Poor horses,” I muttered. “Maybe I should apologize to them personally. Ask if they need a silk handkerchief and a warm bath to recover.”

 His gaze froze on me, surprised.

 “I beg your pardon?”

 “You heard me.”

 He didn’t respond immediately, eyeing me as though trying to crack my cover.

 “Reckless and thoughtless,” he remarked. “A charming mix.”

 “And you, arrogant and completely dispensable,” I muttered with a false smile. “The world already overflows with your kind.”

 He raised an eyebrow, and for the first time, his gaze seemed to lose some of its hardness. A crack in his mask. Not a smile, no—he was too proud for that. But a slight softening. Something indefinable.

 “Elysia,” I finally said.

 He seemed to taste the name for a moment, his lips barely pinching, as though evaluating its texture.

 “Elysia… A pretty lie.”

 I furrowed my brow. Without adding anything. He didn’t press further, but my heart tightened. He didn’t know. He couldn’t know. I was just a girl in a cloak, covered in dust. Not the princess he’d never seen.

 “Prince Lorran of Aetheris,” he said casually, as if revealing that he owned a collection of precious stones.

 “I suppose I should curtsy,” I said, pretending to be solemn. “Or kiss your boots. Do you have a preference?”

 He burst out laughing, surprised, and I was caught off guard. I hadn’t planned on making him laugh. Yet… he seemed less terrifying like this, his mask gone, arrogance melted into amusement. His name sparked a memory. The one I’d heard from the king when he’d spoken of my marriage… This prince likely came from Ethria.

 “You’re a terrible diplomat, Elysia,” he said, wiping a lingering smile. “You seem lost. Where are you going?”

 I turned my gaze away, but my lips stretched despite myself.

 “Vaelmoor.”

 “Get in,” he said, motioning toward the cart. “I’ll take you there.”

 I looked at him for a moment, hesitant. Too risky. Too close. And yet…

 I nodded and climbed up beside him. I boarded without a word, deliberately ignoring his outstretched hand. He didn’t immediately retract it, as if expecting me to give in, but I sat on my own, adjusting the cloak over my knees. He raised an eyebrow, then shut the door without a word. The driver cracked the reins, and the cart started moving again, slower this time.

 Silence settled in. Inside, everything was muffled: the seats covered in charcoal velvet, the walls embroidered with a golden pattern. Even the bumps of the road seemed softened by the comfort.

 He was watching me. Not openly—he had the elegance of doing it out of the corner of his eye—but I felt it. That sustained attention, almost clinical.

 “Are you going to stare at me the entire trip?” I asked bluntly, my eyes still fixed on the window.

 “I was just wondering if you would finally explain what you were doing in the middle of the road. Or if the mystery is part of your charm." he said, giving me some water.

 I slowly turned my head toward him, accepting it while trying to hide how much I needed it.

 “I was planning to cut through the hills. It was… poorly planned.”

 “That’s the least we can say. What did you have left, half a day before running into a pack?”

 “Or a prince,” I said with a smirk. “It seems danger takes many forms.”

 He let out a small laugh.

 “Do you prefer packs?”

 “They bite, but at least they don’t talk.”

 He tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable.

 “Tell me… are you always like this, or is it the shock?”

 I shrugged.

 “It seems that proximity to nobility makes me a bit… bitter.”

 He smiled but didn’t answer. The silence returned, more relaxed this time, and I felt the tension ease, ever so slightly. We rode for a while like this, rocked by the rhythm of the wheels and the rustling of the forest.

 “And you… where are you from, traveling at this speed on the peaceful roads of a village that didn’t ask for you?”

 He chuckled softly and fixed his piercing gaze on mine.

 “A few days ago, I was expected at a reception in the kingdom of Ethria. An important diplomatic event. They had announced the princess’s arrival, but it didn’t happen, despite my time spent there.”

 I raised an eyebrow, feigning interest.

 “And she had the good taste not to come?”

 “Indeed. A noticeable absence.”

 “You seem to be suffering terribly from it,” I said, resting my chin in my palm.

 He gave me an amused look.

 “I’m mostly irritated by the lack of entertainment. Official receptions are a disguised punishment for me. And I have little patience for crowns made of golden cardboard.”

 “That doesn’t paint a very flattering picture of the kingdom,” I murmured, impressed that he too had noticed the fake crown on my father’s head.

 “Aetheris has its flaws as well.”

 I held his gaze a second too long.

 “Tell me, Elysia, what exactly are you looking for in Vaelmoor?”

 His question, delivered in a measured tone, wasn’t meant to be intrusive, but I knew he expected an answer—and probably more than a vague justification.

 I turned my head slightly, thoughtful, my fingers brushing the fabric of my cloak.

 “Information,” I replied simply, without looking at him.

 He waited a moment, studying my face as if hoping I would say more, but I remained silent. The quiet settled again, disturbed only by the sound of the carriage rolling down the road.

 “Information about what?” he asked, his tone more insistent now, though still calm.

 I bit the inside of my lip. My mouth stayed closed for a moment before I chose to answer—without revealing too much, but without lying either.

 “The past,” I said at last, lowering my eyes slightly.

 He seemed to consider this, as though weighing his words. Then, without warning, he turned toward me, his posture more relaxed but still full of that natural authority that defined him.

 “The kingdom of Aetheris holds archives far more complete than those of Vaelmoor. If what you’re seeking concerns ancient events, you might find more answers there than in a small village like that.”

 I turned to him, his words hanging in the air like a tempting offer. But I knew it wasn’t wise—and it would lengthen my journey by several territories.

 “No, thank you,” I replied, my tone firm but polite. “Vaelmoor will be enough.”

 He raised an eyebrow, intrigued, but didn’t press further.

 The landscape drifted slowly past the window. To the left, open fields gave way to dense forests that stretched endlessly. The soft morning light struck the trees, casting long, peaceful shadows across the ground. We were now crossing a wooden bridge, and the water below flowed gently, reflecting the light of the rising day.

 I could feel time passing—slowly, but steadily—as if each second aboard the carriage were somehow suspended. The journey continued, the road winding between hills, through sleepy hamlets and quiet woods. We rode in silence, each lost in our thoughts. Time seemed to stretch as the carriage moved without hurry. The ride was long, yet pleasant. Nature drew closer, enveloping the outside world.

 Then, in the distance, the rooftops of Vaelmoor appeared on the horizon, their silhouette standing stark against the blue sky. We were nearing our destination.

 The carriage slowed at the city’s entrance, and the sound of the wheels gradually faded. It came to a stop before Vaelmoor’s borders, whose stone walls seemed to stretch wide, as if to welcome our arrival.

 I prepared to leave the carriage. It was time.

 I cast one last glance at Lorran. He remained silent for a moment, observing the city unfolding before us. Then, he slowly turned his eyes to me.

 “Well, I suppose this is where our paths part,” he said, a faint smile brushing his lips.

 I looked at him.

 “So it seems,” I replied, rising from my seat.

 I wasn’t sure what he expected, but I felt a tension in the air. He wanted to say something, but didn’t. I paused a moment before placing my hand on the carriage door handle. His eyes followed me, and in the silence, I heard one last sentence, almost whispered.

 “Perhaps one day you’ll come to Aetheris. If you ever seek more answers… you know where to find me.”

 I let out a quiet sigh. I turned one last time to meet his gaze. Then, without another word, I walked away, heading toward Vaelmoor’s gates, an odd mix of curiosity and uncertainty stirring inside me.