Page 16 of The Curse Between Us

Zephyr strolled through the grand halls of the palace, the sound of Bianca's paws softly padding against the marble floors echoing in the quiet corridors. The fox trotted closely at his heels, her bright, curious eyes watching everything around them. Every so often, she nipped playfully at his heels, and Zephyr laughed, leaning down to stroke her pointed ears. Her fur was cold to the touch, the coolness of it sending a shiver up his spine as she pushed her small, eager nose into his palm. He chuckled softly, pulling his hand away. Bianca had become his constant companion in the months since Wilfred had suggested they raise the abandoned fox kits discovered at the gates one cold morning. Bianca had barely left Zephyr's side ever since, and her lively presence provided a welcome distraction in a life that often felt weighed down by responsibility.

As he continued down the hallway, Zephyr couldn't help but wonder how Edric would react to Bianca. He had mentioned her in his letters, of course, but they had yet to meet in person. It had been three weeks since Zephyr had left Rafria, and he was beginning to miss Edric more with each passing day. Edric was scheduled to visit Eskarven soon, and though they had established a schedule that allowed them to attend to their royal duties while spending as much time together as possible, it was still never enough. The weeks apart felt long and far too empty.

Zephyr paused at the grand staircase, looking down at the bustling palace below, wondering whether to venture outside for a stroll or simply curl up in front of the fire in his chambers with a book. The idea of spending a peaceful, solitary moment seemed tempting, but the sun was shining brightly outside, and the cold air would be invigorating. Bianca, however, had no interest in leaving the comfort of the palace. She had already trotted up a few steps, looking back over her shoulder at Zephyr with an imperious yip, as though urging him to follow. Smiling to himself, Zephyr made his way toward the stairs, but the sound of approaching footsteps caused him to pause.

“Your Majesty.”

Hael, one of the palace attendants, appeared at the bottom of the staircase, her face slightly flushed from the hurried pace. She paused when she reached Zephyr, offering a quick curtsy. “The messenger from Rafria has returned and requests your presence.”

A frown tugged at Zephyr’s brow. Ollie, the messenger, usually preferred to pass on any information and retire quietly until his next trip across the mountains. It was unusual for him to request a personal meeting. Zephyr glanced down at Bianca, who let out a small, discontented noise, her ears drooping. He bent down to scoop her up into his arms, comforting her with a gentle stroke of her fur. “Lead the way,” he told Hael, his voice soft with reassurance.

She led him to one of the small rooms near the main gate, where Ollie was waiting. As the door swung open, Ollie looked up and met Zephyr’s gaze, his expression serious. “I’ll remain here if you require me,” Hael murmured, offering another curtsy before retreating down the hall. Zephyr nodded absently, then stepped inside the room, his eyes immediately locking with Ollie’s.

“We have a problem,” Ollie said without preamble, his tone gruff.

Zephyr tensed, his heart lurching. Still holding Bianca to his chest, he let out a sharp breath, a sudden thought flashing through his mind. “Edric—the king—is he…?”

“No, no, Your Majesty,” Ollie interrupted quickly. “Your Edric is fine.” He scratched his head, looking slightly embarrassed. “See for yourself.” He gestured toward the table, where a stack of letters sat neatly arranged. “But first—” Ollie leaned against the edge of the table, his brow furrowed in thought. “Something is happening in the mountains.”

Relief flooded Zephyr’s body in a wave, though confusion followed quickly on its heels. He placed Bianca on the ground, watching her dart around the room for a few moments before turning back to Ollie. “What do you mean?” Zephyr asked, his voice laced with curiosity and concern.

Ollie drew out another chair and sank into it, folding his arms across his chest. “I’ve been crossing those mountains longer than you’ve been alive,” he began, looking directly at Zephyr, his voice taking on a serious tone. “This will sound absurd, I know, but you must trust me.”

Zephyr nodded firmly. “I do. I have every confidence in you.”

Ollie sighed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “There’s a new path through the mountains.”

Zephyr blinked, the words taking a moment to register. “A new path?”

Ollie nodded tightly. “Yes. Right at the top of the pass, just before the descent into Rafria. I noticed it. A trail leading eastwards, descending gradually.”

Zephyr’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Did you follow it?”

“Only for a few minutes,” Ollie admitted. “I didn’t think it wise to go too far alone, and I thought you should hear about this as soon as possible.”

Zephyr leaned back in his chair, his mind racing. If anyone else had brought him this news, he might have written it off as a mistaken observation or a newly uncovered old trail, but Ollie had been traveling these mountains for decades. He knew the routes better than anyone else. If Ollie said it was new, then Zephyr had no reason to doubt it. The very idea that there could be another path through the mountains was both exciting and unsettling.

“The geography of our land has always been simple,” Zephyr said slowly, more to himself than to Ollie. “Rafria to the south, Eskarven to the north, and the mountains in between. There’s nothing else.” He shook his head, trying to absorb the implications of what Ollie was telling him. “There’s only the one pass. Nothing else can be navigated.”

Ollie’s gaze remained steady. “That’s what I thought too, until I saw the new path.”

Zephyr’s thoughts swirled with the possibilities. If there truly was another way through the mountains, it would change everything. The region had been so isolated for so long, and the one pass had always been the only link between the two kingdoms. Could there be something beyond that pass? A hidden land or an unexpected discovery?

“When can you be ready to depart again?” Zephyr asked abruptly, standing up from his chair, his thoughts already forming into action. Bianca, sensing the shift in energy, perked up, her tail twitching.

“Tomorrow?” Ollie shrugged. “There’s no sense in attempting to leave now. Should I assemble a squadron to accompany me?”

“No.” Zephyr shook his head. “This is not just about us. I want you to draw up a map with the exact location of this new path clearly marked. Then, I want you to return to Rafria and tell King Edric everything you’ve told me. We’ll meet at this place in three days’ time, and we’ll venture east together.”

Ollie raised an eyebrow, a slight frown forming on his face. “You mean to accompany us?”

Zephyr nodded firmly. “Yes. I’ll join you, and I’ll request the High Priestess’ company as well. It may be nothing—a trail revealed by shifting rocks. Or it may be something of greater significance. Either way, it’s worth investigating.”

Ollie studied him for a moment before nodding. “Very well. I’ll get that map to you as soon as possible, and I’ll depart first thing in the morning.”

“Thank you.” Zephyr gave a polite nod. Just as Ollie reached the door, Zephyr called after him. “And please—don’t mention this to anyone else. Not yet, not until we have a better understanding of what’s going on.”

Ollie smirked. “I wasn’t born yesterday, Your Majesty. I can keep a secret.”

With that, Ollie left the room, leaving Zephyr to ponder what he had just learned. The truth was that there had always been certain truths that defined life in Eskarven. They had lived in a land of ice and cold, and they had been at war with Rafria for as long as anyone could remember. The mountains had always stood between them—impossible to cross, a physical barrier that separated their two kingdoms. Now, however, those truths were beginning to crumble.

Zephyr sank into the chair once more, his mind racing. He had helped bring about the peace between Rafria and Eskarven, and in doing so, he had dismantled the war that had defined his life for so long. It stood to reason, then, that other things—things he had long believed to be permanent—might now be subject to change. But the very thought of shifting the boundaries of the land, of finding something new where once there had been only ice and stone, was overwhelming.

Bianca nudged her head against his ankle, startling him out of his thoughts. He bent down and picked her up, holding her close to his chest as she licked his cheek affectionately. Despite the turbulence of his thoughts, he smiled at the comfort her presence brought him. There was no sense dwelling on what might be until they had more answers.

In three days, he would know more. And in three days, he would see Edric again.

◆◆◆

The red and gold banners fluttered in the wind as they reached the top of the mountain pass, vivid against the backdrop of the clear blue sky. Zephyr pressed his heels into his horse’s sides, urging the steed forward, a wide grin spreading across his face. The sight before him, the familiar land of Rafria meeting him on the horizon, filled him with joy that he could not suppress. No matter the circumstances, no matter the complexities of their lives, he could not help but feel a surge of happiness when he saw Edric’s face appear on the rise. His husband was there, his smile as broad as Zephyr’s, lighting up the mountainside.

“Well met,” Edric called out, his voice carrying easily across the wind as he trotted forward.

“Well met indeed,” Zephyr replied, his voice warm with affection, though he knew their greeting would be watched by others. He offered his gloved hand to Edric, who clasped it firmly between his own. The exchange was deliberate, restrained—one of the only safe ways they could demonstrate even a hint of their affection in public. Zephyr longed to pull Edric off his horse, to gather him into a tight embrace, to kiss him as he truly wanted to, audience be damned. But that was not their reality. Not yet.

They had slipped up only once during their months of marriage—during a reunion much like this, when the excitement of seeing each other again had momentarily overwhelmed their caution. Edric had reached out for Zephyr’s hand to help him down from his horse, and Zephyr had not pulled away fast enough. The moment their hands touched, the familiar flare of pain shot through Zephyr’s body. It had been brief, barely a second, but it left them both gasping for breath, the agony of their inability to touch making itself known once again. Since then, they had been even more cautious—perhaps overly so.

Zephyr reluctantly pulled his gaze away from the warmth of Edric’s eyes and looked around at the others accompanying them. Along with Edric and Ollie, he saw Alec, Hadley, Eileen, and Victor, all watching them with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. A faint blush crept up Zephyr’s neck, and he cleared his throat to break the silence. “Thank you all for coming,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

“There was no way we would consent to being left behind,” Hadley replied with a dry tone, raising an eyebrow at the two of them. She looked over Zephyr’s shoulder and gave Clara a slight nod. “I’m pleased to see you again, my lady.”

Clara, who had been quietly observing from the side, allowed a rare smile to break across her face. “And I you.” She nudged her horse closer to Hadley’s, and they fell into a quiet, murmured conversation while the rest of the group exchanged pleasantries. Zephyr found himself caught in the swirl of their greetings, his attention divided between Edric and the others.

After a moment, Edric raised his hand, his voice cutting through the chatter. “I believe we ought to proceed,” he said, directing his gaze toward Ollie. “Would you care to lead the way, Sergeant?”

“That would be wise,” Ollie replied, his tone serious. He turned his horse and raised one hand, pointing to the east. “There. You see?”

Zephyr leaned forward in his saddle, following the direction Ollie’s finger indicated. His breath caught in his throat when he noticed the gap in the rocks just ahead, barely wide enough for a single horse to pass through. The trail was subtle, easily overlooked, but Zephyr’s heart skipped a beat as he realized the significance. He had never seen this path before.

“I see,” Zephyr said, his voice low and thoughtful. He turned to Ollie, his respect evident in the half-bow he gave. “We’ll follow after you.”

Ollie nodded and guided his horse forward without hesitation, but the group hesitated for a moment, unsure who should follow next. The tension was brief before Alec, ever the practical one, pushed his hair out of his eyes and moved to follow Ollie. Eileen followed, then Edric, and with a sudden surge of anxiety, Zephyr urged his horse forward, unwilling to allow anyone to come between him and Edric. His pulse quickened as he closed the gap between them, and for a moment, the rest of the world seemed to fade away.

They fell into a quiet procession as they navigated the narrow, rocky path. The ground beneath them was uneven, winding around jagged boulders and sharp turns, the gravel crunching beneath their horses’ hooves. The pace was slow, deliberate, as no one was willing to rush into unfamiliar territory. After ten minutes of cautious travel, Ollie held up one hand, signaling for them to stop.

“This is as far as I came,” Ollie said in a low voice, turning his head slightly to look over his shoulder. Zephyr could see the trail winding around a cluster of large stones, but he couldn’t yet see what lay ahead. “Do we proceed?”

Edric turned to Zephyr, his eyes wide with concern. Zephyr met his gaze, then shrugged, keeping his tone as calm as he could manage. “We’ve come this far already. We may as well proceed, but cautiously.”

There was a faint rasp as Alec drew his sword, holding it loosely in his hand, his posture alert. Zephyr’s own hand instinctively moved to the knife at his belt, reassuring himself that it was still there, secure and ready. After a moment, they continued forward, their movements quiet but purposeful.

As they made their descent down the increasingly narrow trail, Zephyr couldn’t shake the feeling that something was shifting in the air. The cool mountain winds had begun to subside, and he noticed the temperature gradually rising. He glanced around, trying to make sense of it. It wasn’t much warmer, but it was noticeable.

“Do you feel that?” he asked, his voice low as he turned to Edric, who was riding just ahead of him. “It’s getting—”

“Warmer,” Edric finished, glancing back at him. “But gently.”

Zephyr nodded, his mind racing. The gradual warmth was nothing like the overwhelming heat of Rafria, but it was strange. He tugged his cloak free of his shoulders and draped it across the saddle in front of himself, enjoying the rare feeling of bare arms exposed to the cool air. He glanced up and caught Edric’s eyes lingering on the exposed skin of his forearms, and despite the situation, Zephyr couldn’t help but feel a jolt of desire—quick and sharp—coursing through him. But they both knew it wasn’t the time for such impulses, not here, not now. The months of their marriage had taught them how to suppress their desires, to take solace in the small moments they could share, but this was neither the time nor the place to act on such feelings.

For now, they had more pressing matters ahead of them.

Zephyr reached down and grabbed the flask of water that hung from his saddle. He drank deeply, savoring the cool relief that it brought. When he finished, he tossed the flask to Edric, who caught it effortlessly. “Thank you, husband,” Edric said with a mock solemnity, pressing the flask to his chest. “You always take such excellent care of me.”

Zephyr chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through him despite the distance that still lingered between them. “I am only following your example,” he replied, his voice light, teasing.

“Powers,” Eileen called out, glancing back at them with an amused smirk. “Are you always so ridiculous when newly reunited?”

“Yes.” Edric didn’t hesitate, his voice rich with amusement. “And proud of it. Your envy is showing, Eileen.”

She scoffed, but the flush of pink in her cheeks betrayed that Edric had clearly struck a nerve. Zephyr couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped him, amused by Eileen’s feigned indifference as she launched into yet another tale of her pursuit of the enigmatic Dorothy, one of the other guards. The story was as playful as Eileen herself, full of exaggerated details and theatrical flourishes, but Zephyr was content to let the warmth of her voice—and the increasingly gentle heat of the day—wash over him. It was a peaceful moment, one that felt like a small break from the ever-present tension of their journey.

But no sooner had Zephyr sunk into a state of relaxation than it was shattered by a sharp whistle from Ollie. His horse pranced nervously under him, and Zephyr instinctively soothed the animal with a gentle hand on its neck. He could see Edric’s hand reaching for the sword at his waist, and Zephyr’s own hand drifted to the knife at his belt as his senses sharpened. The air around them felt suddenly heavy, and his eyes darted across the jagged rocks, searching for signs of movement. The atmosphere had shifted—an ominous quiet settled in, as though the valley itself was holding its breath.

“Skies above,” Ollie’s voice rang out, sounding more awed than afraid. “Forward, all of you.”

The tension ebbed away as quickly as it had arrived, replaced by a more cautious curiosity. Zephyr relaxed his grip on his knife and nudged his horse forward, the steady clip-clop of hooves on gravel the only sound now. A few steps ahead, the path widened enough for Zephyr to draw up beside Edric. Together, they rounded the corner of the rocky outcrop, both of them taking in the sight that lay before them.

The rocky trail suddenly gave way to a low, expansive valley, its soft green grass rippling in the breeze. Clusters of colorful wildflowers dotted the landscape, their hues vivid against the soft green of the earth. To their right, a burbling stream wound its way through the valley, its gentle gurgle adding an almost melodic quality to the silence. Low shrubs and blossoming trees offered shade from the sun, the air thick with their sweet fragrance. It was serene, peaceful—completely unexpected.

Zephyr’s breath caught in his throat as he looked around. It was beautiful, undeniably so. And it was utterly foreign. He had never seen anything like this in Eskarven, nor had he imagined it could exist just beyond the mountains. His gaze flickered to Edric, whose expression mirrored his own: a mix of awe and wonder. Neither of them had words for it.

“What is this place?” Eileen asked, her voice soft as she trotted forward and swung down from her horse. She crouched, her fingers brushing the delicate grass, as though she were trying to make sense of it through touch alone. “This is—”

“This is new,” Clara’s voice interrupted, quiet yet carrying an unmistakable undercurrent of concern. There was something in her tone Zephyr hadn’t heard before—something unfamiliar. “Lady Hadley, have you ever—”

“Never,” Hadley answered before Clara could finish. She dismounted as well, her long white robe billowing behind her as she walked swiftly toward the stream. She knelt down, cupping the cool water in her hand, then poured it back into the stream, her brow furrowed. “Never have I heard mention of this place.”

“I told you it was new,” Ollie said gruffly, remaining on his horse. He looked at the others, but his eyes kept darting back to the valley as though he was eager to return to familiar ground. “But what is it?”

No one had an answer. The air felt thick with uncertainty, the silence that followed oppressive. Alec, ever the pragmatist, surveyed the area with an experienced eye. He dropped to the ground, his posture shifting into the stance of a general. “Spread out and investigate,” he ordered, his voice calm but firm. “Stay within sight, and stay with a partner.”

Zephyr’s heart tightened as he turned toward Edric, who offered him an expectant glance. “Shall we?”

Walking through the valley with Edric by his side felt surreal—like the most impossibly beautiful dream that Zephyr had stumbled into by accident. As they walked, their steps measured but steady, Zephyr marveled at how the land around them seemed to breathe with life, something wholly new, untouched by the war that had once defined both of their lands. The soft breeze caressed their faces, and the sun, though warm, felt gentle rather than oppressive.

As they remained within sight of the others, it felt as though the two of them were the only ones in the world. The sky above them was wide and clear, free of the usual clouds that hung like a weight over Eskarven. Zephyr closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the sun on his skin mixed with the coolness of the breeze. It was a sensation he could not remember ever experiencing before. The contrast between Eskarven’s constant cold and Rafria’s overwhelming heat was too stark. But this? This was different—balanced, serene.

“How is this real?” Zephyr whispered aloud, as if asking the valley itself. “How could we not have known about this place’s existence?”

Edric, looking back over his shoulder at the sound of his voice, shook his head slowly, his eyes wide with wonder. “If anyone has answers,” he said quietly, “it will be them.” He glanced over at Clara and Hadley, who had walked closer to the stream, absorbed in a quiet discussion. Edric shrugged lightly, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “As for me,” he said with a playful gleam in his eyes, “I’m too amazed to ask questions quite yet.”

Bending down, Edric plucked a small golden flower from the earth and held it up to Zephyr with a crooked grin. “I hope I won’t be punished for doing that,” he said, teasing. “But I wanted you to have this.”

Zephyr’s heart leaped as he accepted the flower from Edric’s hand, careful not to let their fingers brush. The warmth of Edric’s smile sent a wave of longing through him, but he fought the urge to pull him closer. Instead, he tucked the flower behind his ear, its soft petals brushing against his skin. For a brief moment, Edric’s smile slipped, and something raw and intense flickered across his face—an expression that made Zephyr’s chest tighten with desire. But just as quickly, Edric dropped his gaze, lifting his hand to his hair. “Zephyr—”

Before he could finish, Alec’s shout cut through the moment. Edric’s shoulders straightened, and he turned toward his brother with purpose. Zephyr stood frozen for a moment, watching Edric stride away, his heart aching with the sudden distance between them. After a pause, he followed, trying to shove aside the longing that still gripped him.

“There are no signs of habitation,” Alec said, his voice clear as they gathered around him. “I heard some birdsong, but I couldn’t identify the birds themselves.”

Zephyr reached up to brush his fingers over the golden flower tucked behind his ear. “The flowers are unknown to me as well,” he murmured, his voice almost lost in the quiet of the valley.

Alec’s eyes flicked to the flower, then down to Zephyr’s face. For a moment, something warm sparked in his eyes, but then his usual briskness returned. “As the path to this valley was first discovered by Sergeant Ollie”—he turned and nodded toward Ollie—“it falls under the control of Eskarven.”

“No,” Zephyr immediately interjected, his voice firm. He shook his head. “No, we will not lay claim to it. Let it be neutral territory. After all”—he glanced over at Edric, smiling softly—“our lands are meant to be joined now. Let this valley belong to all of us.”

“It already does,” Clara’s voice interrupted, low but clear, drawing the attention of everyone in the group. She looked up from the stream, her face serious. “Lady Hadley and I have been discussing the strangeness of this place. We believe—” She sighed, her gaze flickering toward Hadley, who nodded in quiet agreement. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. If we are to explain this properly, we may be here for some time.”

A cold chill of foreboding crept up Zephyr’s spine, but he nodded, sitting down on the soft grass as they unpacked the provisions they had brought with them. Despite the tension that lingered, the valley’s beauty almost made it impossible to stay fully on edge. He found himself settling closer to Edric, seeking comfort in his proximity. Edric gave him a small, reassuring smile, though Zephyr could see the unease in his eyes, mirroring his own feelings.

Once they were seated, Clara cleared her throat, folding her hands in her lap. “You are all familiar with the tale of Being and its division, the resulting war between Plenty and Abyss?”

Zephyr glanced around at the others. They nodded, each of them listening intently.

“What you may not be as familiar with,” Clara continued, her voice calm yet filled with gravity, “is the prophecy that this war has not yet ended.”

Eileen let out a small noise of surprise, her eyes wide. “A prophecy?” she echoed, clearly unsettled.

“Yes,” Hadley answered, exchanging an unreadable glance with Clara. “It has long been foretold that when Plenty cast Abyss down below these very mountains, it was not a decisive victory, but only a temporary triumph. Abyss has been imprisoned, yes. But not entirely defeated.”

“Neither can be defeated, can they?” Alec’s voice was soft, contemplative, as he leaned forward. “If either triumphs entirely over the other—the balance is disturbed.”

Hadley smiled at him, a brief, approving nod. “Yes. You are correct, my prince. Your time studying with us has not been wasted, I see.”

Zephyr turned to Edric and raised an inquisitive eyebrow. He had never heard of Alec studying with the High Priestess, but Edric shook his head slightly, signaling that the topic would have to wait.

“It is exactly that kind of disturbance we fear,” Clara continued, picking up where Hadley left off. “For as long as we have known, Plenty has held the advantage. Our very lands are a testament to Plenty’s influence—the extremes of our climates and the stark differences between them.”

In a sudden flash of realization, Zephyr understood. "And this is quite literally middle ground," he said, his voice reverberating with the awe of his discovery. He waved a hand across the valley, as if trying to capture the entirety of the scene. "Between our two lands, both in geography and in temperament, so to speak."

"Yes," Hadley said, nodding slowly, her bright hair glistening in the sunlight. She seemed lost in thought for a moment before she continued, her voice tinged with something deeper. "When you and King Edric married, you forged a bond between what were once two opposing elements. Rafria and Eskarven, once distinct, now begin to blur. The mountains that have long separated you both are, in some way, beginning to change."

Zephyr’s eyes darted to Edric, who stood beside him, his expression unreadable. But there was a flicker of something in his eyes—surprise, disbelief perhaps, or even something more profound. Zephyr couldn't help but marvel at the implication of Hadley's words. Could their union truly have had such a far-reaching effect on the land? He shook his head slightly, still trying to process it all.

"Please," Edric interjected, holding up a hand in a gesture of disbelief. He shook his head slowly, his expression a mixture of confusion and skepticism. "You are saying that somehow, our marriage affected the very landscape? That we created this place?" He glanced at Zephyr, his eyes searching for some confirmation. "Forgive me, my lady, but as meaningful as our partnership has proven, both politically and personally, I have difficulty crediting this."

Hadley’s gaze softened as she turned to look at him. "That is because you only see yourself as a man. As a king, but no more." She held Edric’s eyes for a moment before turning her attention to Zephyr. There was something deeply compassionate in her gaze, and it set Zephyr’s heart racing with a mixture of frustration and understanding. "The prophecy we spoke of..." Her voice trailed off for a moment, then she spoke with quiet resolve. "It tells of the war between Plenty and Abyss only ending when what once was sundered is made whole."

Zephyr closed his eyes, his mind trying to process the weight of her words. When he opened them again, the intensity of his gaze locked with hers. The tension in his chest tightened as he felt his voice crack the silence. "You knew this," he whispered, the accusation in his tone unmistakable. "You knew of this prophecy, and yet you said nothing when we married. Surely, in all your wisdom, you must have seen how it might apply to us."

He could not bring himself to look at Edric, knowing how this revelation might hit him. The knowledge that their union—one forged for peace—was not merely political, but perhaps even fated, felt like a betrayal in some ways. The weight of it set Zephyr’s blood boiling, and for a moment, he was consumed by the turmoil of it.

"I had my suspicions, yes," Hadley replied quietly, unflinching under his accusation. She did not back down or look away. "But it was not my idea. For that, we must credit another."

Both Zephyr and Edric turned to look at Alec, who had gone pale, his lips parted in stunned silence. "I did not know," Alec murmured, his voice barely audible. "I admit, I desperately wished for your union. But not because of this."

Zephyr’s heart sank, and his eyes locked onto Alec’s. There was no malice in his voice, only a depth of regret that made Zephyr feel as though the ground beneath him had shifted. The weight of this new knowledge was pressing on all of them, and Zephyr realized that everything they had been working toward—their marriage, their peace, their futures—had been more complicated than he had ever imagined.

“What’s done cannot be undone,” Clara said, her voice cool as ever, though there was a subtle sorrow in her eyes. She gazed out across the valley, her posture unyielding but with a quiet sadness. "What we have set in motion, we cannot halt now. This,"—she spread her arms wide to encompass the valley around them—"is only the beginning. Something is changing, and we cannot control it."

"Change can be good," Edric said quietly, his voice softer than Zephyr had ever heard it. He stood straighter, looking only at Clara, his shoulders tense.

"Yes," Clara agreed, her tone equally subdued, but her eyes darkened with unspoken concern. "But not always."

“Speak plainly,” Ollie growled, breaking the silence that had settled over them. He crossed his arms and glared at Clara, his stance challenging. “Before we all grow old here.”

Clara turned her calm, piercing gaze on Ollie, but there was no hostility in her eyes. She merely waited for him to finish his challenge, then sighed, a faint look of resignation on her face. “If this is indeed the prophecy coming to fruition, there is much to be wary of. Deep below us, the rumblings of these mountains will have shaken the bars of Abyss’s prison. Though captive, it is not without power. It has rallied in the past, meddling in Plenty’s affairs.” She hesitated for a moment, then cast a sorrowful glance at Alec and Edric, before continuing. “The storm that came down from the mountains and took your mother’s life was one such instance.”

At her words, Edric’s body stiffened, and a startled breath escaped him. Zephyr’s heart lurched in his chest, the weight of Clara’s revelation hitting him like a punch. The implications of her words were staggering. If Abyss had been responsible for the storm that killed Edric’s mother, then everything they thought they knew about their histories—about their enemies—was shattered. Zephyr wanted to reach out, to comfort Edric, to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, but the depth of the realization held him frozen.

“If Abyss can do that,” Alec murmured, his voice shaky as he leaned forward, his eyes wide with shock. “What else might it do?”

Both Clara and Hadley shook their heads, the gravity of the situation sinking in. “I do not know,” Hadley murmured. “I know only this: we have ended one war, but another is about to begin.”

The words hung in the air like a heavy fog, settling over them all. Zephyr felt a chill crawl up his spine, but he held his silence, knowing there was nothing he could say that would ease the dread in his heart.

Pushing himself to his feet, Edric let out a muttered oath and strode off toward the far side of the valley. Alec called after him, but Edric didn’t turn back. The distance between them felt like miles, even though Edric was only a few dozen paces away. With a similar curse under his breath, Alec turned to Zephyr, his eyes pleading with an unspoken request.

“Excuse us,” Zephyr murmured, offering Alec a quick, apologetic glance before following after Edric. His heart pounded in his chest as he walked toward the lone figure standing beneath the drooping branches of a tree Zephyr didn’t recognize. Its soft white blossoms hung heavy in the air, releasing a sweet, intoxicating fragrance. Were it not for the clear tension in Edric’s posture, it would have been a perfect sight.

“Edric,” Zephyr called softly, his voice quiet as he approached, hesitant yet resolute. “I’m sorry.”

Edric turned to face him, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “What, precisely, are you sorry for? For the loss of my mother? Or for agreeing to marry me and setting in motion an ancient prophecy neither of us had any knowledge of?”

Zephyr’s chest tightened, but he shook his head firmly. “The former,” he said with a strength that surprised even him. “Never the latter.” He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving Edric’s. “Never.”

Edric’s anger seemed to dissipate in an instant. He shuddered and ran a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply as the tension left his body. “I do not enjoy being toyed with,” he said quietly, his voice softer now, more vulnerable than Zephyr had ever heard it. “I have no wish to be an agent of fate.”

“Nor do I,” Zephyr said firmly. He moved closer, feeling the space between them narrow with every step. “I am as angry as you are, believe me.”

Edric gave him a wry smile, but there was something bittersweet in it. “You do not show it,” he said. “Is it the Eskarven ice in your veins that keeps you so cool and collected, my lord?”

“Perhaps.” Zephyr allowed himself a small smile in return. “But here, in this place, I feel some of the warmth of rage as well.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled his gloves back on, then placed a hand on Edric’s shoulder, rubbing his thumb gently over the tense muscles. “We entered into this marriage to bring an end to the war,” Zephyr said quietly. “To stand poised on the brink of another—” He trailed off, the weight of the words pressing on him.

“And one between forces we cannot know or understand.” Edric sighed, bringing his gloved hand up to rest on Zephyr’s. He gave him a rueful smile before letting his hand fall back to his side. “What have we done, Zephyr? What have we set in motion? The end of our world, or its salvation?”

“I do not know,” Zephyr admitted softly. “We have done what we judged to be right. As for the rest…” He glanced up at the blossoms above them, their delicate petals swaying in the breeze. “We will face it together.”

“Together,” Edric echoed quietly. Their gazes locked for a long moment, an emotion passing between them that Zephyr couldn’t quite name. Then, with a glance toward the others gathered by the stream, Edric spoke again. “Not only you and I, though.”

Zephyr followed his gaze, a smile breaking across his face as he watched Eileen shove Ollie playfully, her laughter ringing out across the valley. Hadley and Clara were sitting by the stream, eyes closed in meditation as they tried to make sense of everything that had just been revealed.

Slowly, Zephyr removed his hand from Edric’s shoulder, the loss of contact sharp and sudden. Edric sighed, and a blossom from the tree, disturbed by his breath, drifted gently down to the grass at their feet. Zephyr’s throat tightened as he watched it fall, the delicate beauty of it haunting in its imperfection. He had to look away, the bittersweetness of the moment almost too much to bear.