Chapter 6

Somewhere beyond the border of a neighbouring kingdom, where the city’s reach thins into wild, green, she moves leisurely.

The forest itself is alive with quiet glory.

The birds sing their song like a welcome gift, leaves dance in the soft breeze, and the light touches her skin, curious as she glides through.

Ahead, a narrow stream cuts through the trees, and water clear as glass flows smoothly. Beneath, tiny bright colored creatures flicker, darting about as they play.

She rests at the bank.

“Such a wonderful day, don’t you think?” Comes the voice of her companion.

She doesn’t turn, mesmerized by the tiny creatures.

“Wonderful things rarely last.” She finally says, a quiet thickness settling in the air.

The water seems to still, her reflection stares back at her.

‘Would she look like me?’ She wonders.

Her bright sky-blue eyes shimmer, complemented by long, full lashes and her soft, plump lips.

Then, a new reflection joins hers. “You’ve awfully been quiet again.”

“Have I?” She replies, seemingly deep in thought.

He steps closer, lowering himself beside her, “You only go quiet when you’re thinking.” His hand comes to rest on her shoulder.

She hums in response but doesn’t deny it.

“I worry for you, Thaea.”

A ghost of a smile frames her lips, “You always worry for me, Rion.”

Her hand dips into the stream, and the water welcomes her instantly as it flows like soft silk between her fingers.

There's a flicker.

And then, one of the little creatures surfaces, drawn to her. Another follows, then several more, circling her hand as they dance in a form of greeting.

Altharion watches, “They always come to you.

”They remember,” Althaea says.

“We all do,” he exhales softly. ‘She died, and you almost never made it.’ He adds in his mind.

Staring ahead, “How can we forget?” He adds.

Pausing, she takes out her hand.

A few drops linger on her skin before dropping into the current. She stands. Altharion mirrors the motion.

Dusting her gown, “It’s been 20 years. I’m better now.” She answers half-heartedly.

He watches her, longer than necessary. “Yes, you are. But I’ll never stop worrying.”

She halts momentarily. For a second, the air shifts around her like a silent message only meant for her.

‘I’m sorry, my heart.’

Shutting her eyes, she takes a deep breath in, then out and continues like nothing’s wrong. Altharion notices but says nothing.

They move deeper along the bank, the trees growing older, taller and wider. Sunlight thins into soft golden strands as the leaves form a cover atop their heads.

Altharion nudges a low-hanging branch aside, “You dragged me all this way for a walk?”

She smiles, 'At least you came.’

Clearly pleased with herself, she fires back. “Would you have come if I told you why?”

“Well……..” She glances back at him, one brow raising, her look saying it all.

He sighs. “Alright, fine. But you owe me a slice of Mom’s cake.”

She groans.

He laughs.

The path narrows, curling into a familiar clearing where the light falls softer, it’s quieter, more peaceful. She slows to a stop.

Spreading her arms wide, “Here we are.” She smiles.

A cluster of pale white flowers blooms at the far corner. They too, move like they are drawn to her. Their intoxicating scent locates her.

“Awwwwww, they’ve bloomed again,” she mutters, crouching down and inhaling it, sweet and comforting. A dreamy look taking over her expression.

“Of course. I should’ve known.” Altharion joins her. “Gardenia jasminoides have always been your favourite.”

He is met with silence.

He looks to Althaea.

She’s as still as a statue, her eyes glazed and unfocused as they glow faintly.

Something’s wrong.

“…..Thaea?” He calls softly.

No answer.

“Thaea!” He reaches for her. .

She flinches. ‘What’s happeni—‘ he’s cut off mid-thought, as her spine straightens sharply, her posture going rigid as her hands clench into tight fists at her side.

A sharp inhale.

And then, it hits.

A pressure slams into her chest, sudden, crushing, like something reaching to her rather than into her. It bleeds into the air around them, subtly calling to Altharion.

It pulls.

A broken sound leaves her throat small and unnatural. She falls backward, eyes rolling to the back of her skull.

Altharion catches her just before she hits the ground. “Thaea…Thaea!” He calls, slightly shaking her. “Stay with me.”

No answer, her head rolls back, body limp in his arms. She remains deathly still.

‘Fuck’

The forest around them goes quiet instantly. The critters watch from above and below.

He swears under his breath, sharp and loud enough for anyone close by to hear.

“This isn’t….” He thinks, then moves.

“Okay, Thaea.…hold on. I’m going to get us out of here.” He slides an arm below her knees, another supporting her neck and back.

Once he’s certain she’s tucked in properly, he doesn’t dither. Nor does he look back. He takes one step, and the world bends as distance folds to his will.

Breaking into an unnatural sprint, the forest collapses into streaks of green and gold. Air doesn’t fight him as the forest sounds blend into the background.

Panic threatens to overtake him. Veins growing visible along his arms.

‘Come on, come on!’

The stone structure rises, stone cutting into the horizon as the palace finally comes into view. But he doesn’t slow down.

“MAKE WAY!” Comes his thundering voice.

People scatter.

Guards snap into action, opening the great doors a second before he reaches them.

“HEALERS!”

It echoes throughout the halls, loud and commanding, drawing attention from those within.

He moves through the palace like a force. Every second stretches too long for his liking.

‘I can’t bear another risk of losing her. I need to get her looked at. NOW!’

He pushes into the chambers, laying her down as softly as his panicked limbs can manage.

Just as she touches the sheets, her lips move “…she’s alive…” Althaea whispers. Altharion catches it. Freezing momentarily.

“Your highness,” comes the soothing voice of Lirael, a healer. “May I request some space as we…..”

“Space!” Altharion booms, bloodshot eyes pinned on Lirael. “I will not…”

“Prince Altharion!” The voice cuts through to him. .

Firm. Unyielding.

He turns.

Eryndelith, an elder skilled in healing, stands there, gaze steady.

“You very well know we cannot work with your death grip on her.”

At first, he doesn’t move. Then, slowly he lets go of her. “You’re right Eryn.”

“Indeed she is. Now, step aside son. Tell us what happened.” His father, King Vaeltharion, speaks, voice deep and tone meaningful.

Looking back at the entrance, his mother, Queen Lunethra, is also present.

“Altharion, darling,” she says softly. “She’s in good hands. Come, tell us.”

The prince reluctantly leaves her side. Shoulders sagging as he walks over to his parents, finally recounting what happened.