"So, you gonna head there to get them?" Selyndra asked, finally breaking the silence.
Eiden didn't answer at first.
He stared down at his lap, the letter still resting loosely in his hand.
"…Yes," he said softly.
Selyndra pushed herself off the window sill in one smooth motion and walked toward the door. She placed a hand on the wall beside it before stepping out.
"I'll speak with Zanders. I'll ask him to arrange a heavily guarded carriage to escort us to the Whitecrest Clan's village."
Her boots echoed down the hallway as she left.
Dyuke sat quietly for a moment, then stood, closing his grimoire and clipping it back to his waist.
"I'll be going now. That's all I needed."
"Wait."
A commanding voice cut through the room.
Zanders entered with Selyndra beside him, stopping just inside the doorway.
"Selyndra asked me to have my knights escort you," Zanders said, "but I'm afraid they wouldn't be strong enough to handle even a black ogre. So, Dyuke—I'd prefer if you escorted him instead. Bring fifty of your mages. And I ask you three—Selyndra, Iris, Vaelus—to go with him."
Dyuke nodded.
"Got it. I'll have my mages here by tomorrow morning."
"Good. Come on, I'll escort you out," Zanders said.
Dyuke approached him, and the two walked past Selyndra and out into the hall.
The room fell quiet again.
Selyndra stepped away from the door and walked back to Eiden, sitting on the table beside him. She crossed her legs, adjusting her hair with practiced elegance.
"So… I guess we'll be leaving soon. On the road to the Whitecrest Clan's village," Iris murmured.
Vaelus glanced out the window.
He watched Zanders wave goodbye to a carriage rolling down the stone trail toward the town—away from the isolated castle perched on its small island, surrounded by water. Beyond the bridge, the town buzzed with life: tall buildings, homes, lanterns, movement.
"Very well, then," Iris said, standing. She picked up her empty teacup. "I'm going to chill in the springs in the backyard."
She left, her footsteps echoing down the hall.
"Hm. That's not a bad idea…" Selyndra thought aloud.
She hopped off the table and hurried after Iris.
"I'm going to the library. I'd love to read a grimoire," Eiden said as he stood.
"Off to read a grimoire you've already read a thousand times?" Vaelus snickered.
"Yup…" Eiden replied, walking out.
Vaelus remained alone in the quiet room, staring out the window at the distant town.
That night.
The springs behind the castle glowed softly, their surface shimmering with faint blue light that danced across the rising steam. Cool night air drifted through the enclosed stone courtyard, carrying the scent of wet rock and distant pine. A tray of fresh blueberries and strawberries rested on a low stone ledge, dew forming on their skins.
Iris rested deep in the water, submerged up to her nose. Her black hair floated around her like dark silk, drifting with the gentle currents. Her red eyes were closed, her expression peaceful as the warmth melted away the day's tension.
Two white towels lay neatly folded on a small wooden table beside the springs.
Selyndra sat on the stone edge, her light brown skin glowing under the moonlight. Her long blond hair swayed with the night breeze, strands catching the light like threads of gold. Her legs were crossed, feet dipped in the warm water. Her hands rested behind her, supporting her weight with effortless elegance. Her golden eyes were half‑lidded as she gazed at the stars.
"It's nice tonight," Selyndra murmured, voice soft and airy.
"This wind is very relaxing."
Iris let out a long, content exhale.
"Yeah… it is."
A small smile curved her lips.
Silence settled again, warm and comfortable, until Selyndra spoke.
"You know, Iris… I've got a question for you."
Iris lifted her head, the water now at her neck.
"Yeah? What is it?"
Selyndra's voice turned smooth, almost melodic.
"What do you think of Eiden?"
Iris blinked.
"What do you mean?"
Selyndra rolled her eyes.
"Jeez, you're so dumb… I mean what do you think of him as in… relationship. Would you date him?"
Iris's cheeks flushed instantly.
Her red eyes widened.
She bolted upright, standing fully in the water, droplets cascading down her body. Her breasts bounced heavily with the sudden movement.
"Absolutely NOT!" she yelped, fists clenched at her waist.
Selyndra smirked.
"Hmph. And why not? I think you and him would make a nice couple."
Iris scoffed.
"Eugh, no. He's too violent. Too dangerous."
She stepped out of the water, her wet footsteps making soft splats on the stone floor. She grabbed a towel and closed her eyes as she dried her black hair, pulling the cloth from her scalp all the way down to her long lengths.
Selyndra watched her quietly.
Iris tossed the towel over her shoulder.
"In my opinion, you two would make a great couple. You basically grew up together. And you have more chemistry than anyone else in the Great Sages."
Selyndra stood, walking to the table. She took a towel and wrapped it around her chest, tying it securely. Her blond hair draped over her shoulders like a golden waterfall.
"Is that so…?" she whispered, eyes drifting to the glowing water.
"You think me and him would be a great couple…"
She crossed her arms over her chest, thinking aloud.
"I guess I could see that. He's not a bad guy. He cares for others… even his enemies. And he is strong…"
She began walking toward the back door of the castle, towel tight around her body.
Iris followed, wrapping her own towel around her chest.
Selyndra continued, voice softer now.
"He's very… tough though. Over the years, traveling through kingdoms and villages, I've seen how he reacts when women flirt with him. Even the pretty ones. He doesn't care. He doesn't get flustered. He doesn't get lustful like most men. He doesn't even flirt back."
She paused mid‑step.
"If I tried the same thing right now… I wouldn't even have a chance—"
She stopped walking, inhaling sharply as the realization hit her.
Iris smirked.
"Hmph. You thought about seducing him, didn't you?"
Selyndra shot her a glare, cheeks flushed pink.
"I don't have time for this foolishness."
She sped up toward the door. A female servant opened it for her.
"Just a reminder, your shared bedroom is to the left, down the hall—"
"Shut up," Selyndra snapped coldly as she walked past.
Iris hurried after her.
"Selyndra, calm down, would you?"
Selyndra ignored her, storming down the hall until they reached the closed bedroom door. She grabbed the knob—
But Iris caught her hand.
"Hey. Look at me."
Selyndra took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and lifted her head to meet Iris's red eyes.
"What is it?" she asked flatly.
Iris sighed.
"It's not a bad thing you thought about it. It's fine. If you ever want to approach him, just do it. He's not a bad person. He won't be rude like he is to other women. He might talk with you about it. He might even ask you on a date. You don't know."
Selyndra's expression softened, her golden eyes losing their sharpness.
"So if you consider it," Iris finished, "don't be afraid."
Selyndra let out a shaky breath.
"Hmph… you're right. I shouldn't be afraid of considering it. Sorry. I was mad at myself because… if I'm being honest… as pretty as I am, I've never been in a relationship. So it worried me."
"And that's fine," Iris said gently. "I'm sure he has his own ways of caring."
Selyndra nodded.
"Yeah… you're right. Thanks."
Iris smiled warmly.
Selyndra turned the knob and pushed the door open.
"But now that I've said all that," she added with a teasing smirk, "what kind of guy would you date—"
Iris froze.
Selyndra stopped too, turning fully toward her.
"Hm? What is it?"
Iris's voice dropped to a whisper.
"Behind you…"
Selyndra raised an eyebrow and slowly turned around.
Her golden eyes widened.
Eiden sat on the ottoman beside the large white bed, reading his grimoire.
His black robe and cloak draped around him, his sheathed blade resting at his waist, nearly touching the floor.
Iris's red cloak and robe lay neatly folded on the left side of the bed.
Selyndra's white dress lay folded on the right, her slender sheathed sword beside it.
The room was silent.
Eiden calmly closed his grimoire and placed it in his lap.
"Oh," he said casually, "you two got back sooner than I thought. I folded your clothes and freshened them for you."
He stood, clipping his grimoire to his waist.
"Sorry for staying here so long. I'll be going."
He walked past them, his steps quiet, disappearing down the hall without another word.
Silence swallowed the hallway.
Selyndra and Iris stood frozen, towels wrapped around their bodies, both staring at the empty doorway where Eiden had just disappeared.
Selyndra's golden eyes were wide, her cheeks burning.
Iris's red eyes blinked rapidly, trying to process what just happened.
Then—
"…Did he hear us?" Iris whispered.
Selyndra slowly turned her head toward her, expression blank with shock.
"He folded our clothes," she said quietly.
"That means he was in there for a while."
Iris's face twisted.
"Oh gods…"
Selyndra covered her face with both hands.
"Oh gods," she echoed, voice muffled.
"He definitely heard us."
A beat of silence.
Then Iris snorted.
Selyndra glared.
"Don't you dare laugh."
Iris tried to hold it in.
She failed.
A small laugh escaped her, then another, until she was giggling uncontrollably.
Selyndra groaned loudly, dragging her hands down her face.
"This is humiliating."
Iris wiped a tear from her eye.
"Hey, at least he didn't say anything about it."
Selyndra huffed.
"He didn't have to. His silence was worse."
Iris smirked.
"Maybe he thought you were talking about someone else."
Selyndra shot her a deadpan look.
"Yeah. Because there are so many blond, light‑brown‑skinned, golden‑eyed women in this castle who grew up with him."
Iris shrugged.
Selyndra groaned again.
They stepped into the room, closing the door behind them.
The bedroom was warm and softly lit by two crystal lamps on either side of the large white bed. The folded clothes lay neatly where Eiden had placed them. The air smelled faintly of lavender — he must have used a cleansing spell.
Selyndra walked to her side of the bed, picking up her white dress and sword.
Iris gathered her red cloak and robe. They both placed it on the nightstands on either side of the bed.
They dressed in their nightwear — simple, soft garments provided by the castle servants.
As they climbed into the bed, the mattress sinking comfortably beneath them, Iris spoke first.
"What do you think tomorrow will be like?"
Selyndra lay on her back, staring at the ceiling.
"Chaotic," she said honestly.
"Fifty mages, a carriage, Zanders watching, Dyuke leading… and Eiden going home for the first time in over a century."
Iris nodded slowly.
"And Civilar," she whispered.
Selyndra's golden eyes softened.
"…Yeah. Civilar."
A quiet moment passed.
Iris turned on her side, facing Selyndra.
"Do you think everything will go smoothly?"
Selyndra exhaled.
"Probably not. But if it doesn't, we'll handle it."
Iris smiled faintly.
"Yeah… we will."
Their eyes grew heavy.
The room dimmed.
The soft sound of water outside lulled them.
Within minutes, both were asleep.
The Next Morning.
Dawn broke over the island, casting warm gold across the castle's stone walls. The water surrounding the island shimmered like liquid glass, reflecting the rising sun.
In the courtyard, the four Great Sages stood beside King Zanders.
Eiden stood calm and unreadable, the morning breeze tugging at the edges of his black cloak. The fabric rippled behind him like a shadow given life, brushing against the stone beneath his boots. His robe, layered and dark, shifted with each subtle movement. At his waist hung his sheathed blade — simple in design, yet radiating a quiet, dangerous weight. His posture was steady, controlled, as if no wind, no sound, no presence could disturb the stillness he carried within him. His expression revealed nothing, his eyes unreadable, giving him the aura of someone who had seen too much and survived even more.
Selyndra's golden eyes were sharp, reflecting the sunlight like polished metal. Her long blond hair flowed freely behind her, catching the wind in soft waves that shimmered like strands of molten gold. Her light brown skin glowed warmly under the morning sun, contrasting beautifully with the pure white dress that flowed around her legs. The fabric fluttered with each breeze, giving her an almost ethereal presence. Strapped securely to her thigh was her slender sword, its silver sheath gleaming faintly. She stood tall, poised, every movement graceful — a warrior with the presence of a goddess.
Iris's black hair flowed freely down her back, long and untamed, swaying sharply with each gust of wind. The sunlight caught the strands, giving them a glossy sheen as they moved. Her red eyes were bright beneath the morning light — sharp, alert, and full of quiet fire.
The contrast between her dark hair and crimson gaze made her stand out instantly, a striking figure among the group. Her posture was relaxed but ready, shoulders squared, expression focused. Even in stillness, she radiated a subtle intensity — like a blade sheathed but never truly at rest.
Vaelus stood with the others, hands tucked casually into his pockets, a familiar smirk tugging at his lips. His reddish hair caught the morning light, messy yet somehow intentional, framing his sharp, fox‑like features. His green robe shifted in the breeze, the glowing symbols etched across it pulsing with a soft emerald radiance — ancient markings that seemed alive, breathing with his aura. At his waist hung his curved sword, the worn handle hinting at countless battles fought and survived. When he smirked, his sharp teeth peeked through, a subtle reminder that beneath his laid‑back posture was something far more dangerous, unpredictable, and deadly.
Zanders stood tall in his royal attire, cape swaying behind him.
The sound of hooves echoed across the stone bridge that connected the island to the town.
Fifty horses approached in formation, their riders clad in blue cloaks that rippled like waves. The mages sat tall and disciplined, their auras faint but unmistakably powerful.
At the front rode two leading mages, guiding a reinforced carriage with silver‑lined wheels and protective runes glowing faintly along its frame.
The horses' hooves clattered rhythmically as they crossed the bridge, entering the courtyard in perfect synchronization.
Zanders nodded approvingly.
Dyuke stepped forward from the front of the formation, cloak fluttering.
"Eiden," he called, "your escort has arrived."
The fifty mages dismounted in unison, forming two perfect lines on either side of the carriage.
The air hummed with magic.
The journey to the Whitecrest Clan's village was about to begin.