As the fire warmed the room, I started to look around more. Once I began to look past all the dark colors and eerie shadows cast by the flickering flames, I noticed intricate details in the furniture and decorations. The dark wooden panels on the walls, which initially seemed foreboding, now revealed a subtle beauty in their rich grain and intricate carvings.

I felt like I was discovering hidden secrets within this room, as if it were a character in its own right, waiting to be understood. I was drawn to a large antique mirror hanging above the fireplace. Its frame was ornate, with intricate patterns that seemed to dance in the firelight. As I gazed into its reflective surface, I felt a strange sense of detachment, as if I were looking into another world.

The mirror seemed to hold a thousand stories, each reflected in its glass depths. I wondered about the people who had stood where I was standing, the moments they had shared, and the secrets they had kept within these walls.

As I stood there, transfixed by the mirror, the sunlight from the window to my left caught my eye. Streaming through the cracks in the drapes, it started to illuminate the room with an early morning golden glow, transforming the space.

I opened the drapes, and the sun's rays danced across the wooden panels, bringing them to life. I could almost imagine the wood breathing, each panel expanding and contracting with a life of its own. The carvings, once hidden in shadow, now revealed their true beauty. Delicate patterns, perhaps the work of a master craftsman, emerged, telling a story of their own.

I looked out the window, and the view took my breath away. The "Dark Realm" lay before me, but it was not what I had expected. The sun had risen, casting a soft light over the landscape, revealing a place that mirrored the everyday world. Trees, their branches reaching towards the sky, stood tall and proud, their leaves a vibrant green. A gentle breeze stirred, causing the grass to sway, creating a soothing ripple effect across the land. Birds sang, their melodies filling the air with a sense of peace and tranquility. Yet, as I gazed upon this familiar scene, I knew that this place was different.

It held a mysterious energy, an aura that set it apart from the ordinary. The longer I looked, the more I noticed subtle differences. The shadows here seemed deeper, as if they had lives of their own. Though warm and inviting, the sunlight had a quality that made it seem as if it were shining through a veil, a hint of otherworldliness lingering in its rays. I felt a sense of wonder and intrigue as I stood there, taking in this unexpected sight.

I looked beyond the tree line towards the sea, and my breath caught in my throat. In the distance, I could make out the tallest tower of my home. I realized that the mountains that had been a constant presence in my daily life were not what they seemed. A carefully crafted and maintained glamour spell had hidden this place from prying eyes. The Dark Realm had been concealed right before my eyes with all its secrets and mysteries.

I felt a mix of emotions while standing there, transfixed by this revelation. Surely Allyster or Rune knew that the dark fae home was so close? It wouldn't be hard for the dark fae to kidnap our people if they could hide an entire kingdom from sight.

A dark cloud puffed on the bed and disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared, but it was enough to grab my attention away from the window. I turned back to the bed, my heart racing as I spotted a black shimmer dress lying on it.

Accompanying the dress was a note. I approached the bed with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation, wondering what this dress and note could signify. The dress itself was a work of art, the fabric shimmering with a subtle darkness that seemed to absorb the light. It was as if the very essence of the Dark Realm had been woven into its creation, a tangible representation of the mysterious energy I felt emanating from this place. I reached out and gently touched the dress, half-expecting it to disappear like the cloud of smoke that had brought it here. But it felt real, the fabric soft and supple beneath my fingers.

"Breakfast soon."

No signature, no time frame, just a basic note as if I'm a commoner? I sat on the edge of the bed, examining the dress that had been left for me. It had a high neckline and fitted bodice that flowed out in a long skirt. It was far from my usual color of various bright shades, but I didn't exactly pack a travel bag when I left Crescent City.

The dress fit perfectly and felt as if it was specifically tailored just for me. The contrast between the dress and my appearance struck me. My fair skin and light hair, which usually seemed so ordinary, now seemed almost ethereal compared to the dark, shimmering fabric. It was as if the dress had been created specifically to accentuate my unique features. I couldn't resist spinning around in front of the mirror, marveling at my appearance.

I would never be allowed to wear something this dark-colored, or this accentuated back at home.

A knock sounded from the door, and the same woman from last night reappeared. Her smile revealed sharp teeth, and just that fast, I quickly remembered why I had been scared to be here.

She smiled wider and said, "Apologies for not introducing myself earlier. I am Sylvain. I will be your escort while you are here."

"Thank you, Sylvain. Will I be eating in here?" Back in the palace, I always had my meals in my room. Rune always said it was for the best that I'm not seen too much.

"Oh, gods no, you are a guest. This time, we walk through." She motioned for the door, inviting me to go with her.

She led me through the long hallways, and I noticed that the intricate designs that were in my room were also in the halls. Not even my palace has this much life on the walls.

As we rounded the last corner, I realized that the sheer size of the dining hall was nothing compared to what I had expected. It was adorned with lavish furnishings and intricate tapestries that told stories of long-forgotten battles. The long dining table was made of dark, polished wood, its surface reflecting the flickering light from a chandelier that looked suspiciously like it was made from bones. A massive spread of food lay before us, but it was… peculiar.

The dark lord, the imposing and ever-intimidating lord of this shadowy domain, sat at the head of the table, a regal and unreadable expression on his face as he carved into what looked like a charred, spiky fruit. He lounged casually in his chair, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he twirled a dagger between bites of something that wriggled.

Sylvain took me to a seat at the main table near the end, right next to the dark lord. Several other dark faes were already seated, and more were trickling every minute. Sylvain took the seat next to me. The sheer number of people in the room was intimidating. There were people from every group: kitchen staff, maids, and guards, clothing ranging from aprons to armor to silk. Everyone had a place at a table; everyone could see their leader.

Breakfast with the dark fae was not what I expected. Scratch that—I didn’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this.

Quill sat across from me, stoic as always, though I swore I saw a flicker of amusement cross his face every time I hesitated over a dish.

I, meanwhile, was trying very hard not to offend anyone—or gag.

“So,” I began, trying to sound casual as I poked at what could only be described as a purple gelatinous blob. “What exactly… is this?”

“That?” Sylvain grinned, leaning forward with far too much enthusiasm. “Ah, that’s shalvra. A delicacy! It’s best eaten raw.”

Raw? I swallowed hard, eyeing the blob suspiciously. “And what… exactly is it?”

Quill, ever helpful, finally spoke. “It’s the egg sac of a nocturnal shadow crawler.”

I froze, fork halfway to my mouth. “I’m sorry, a what?!”

Sylvain chuckled, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “Don’t worry. The venom is only potent before cooking—”

“Raw,” I interrupted, glaring at her. “You said it’s best eaten raw!”

“Details,” Sylvain waved dismissively, popping one into her mouth with a flourish.

Their lord cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “Sylvain,” he said, his tone dripping with authority, “stop frightening our guest.”

“Frightening?” Sylvain gasped, feigning innocence. “I’m educating her! Cultural exchange, you know.”

I glanced at Quill, desperate for some semblance of sanity in this chaos. “Do you eat… this?” I gestured to the table.

Quill’s lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smirk appearing. “I do. But not the salvia. I prefer the smoked duskfin.” He pointed to a platter of what looked like blackened fish, its scales shimmering faintly like starlight.

Encouraged, I reached for a piece, ignoring Sylvain’s dramatic gasp of disappointment.

“And what’s this drink?” I asked, gesturing to the dark, bubbling liquid in front of me.

“Nightroot brew,” Quill replied, his tone neutral.

“Let me guess,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “It’s made from some terrifying plant that only grows under the light of a blood moon?”

“Close,” Sylvain chimed in, her grin widening. “It’s fermented root from a tree that screams when you harvest it.”

My hand froze over the glass. “Screams?”

The dark lord sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sylvain, stop embellishing. The tree hums, not screams.”

“Oh, well, that’s so much better,” I muttered, rolling my eyes.

Sylvain leaned closer, her voice low enough that only I could hear. “Try the brew. It’s strong, but it’s good.”

I hesitated, then took a cautious sip. The liquid was bitter, smoky, and surprisingly pleasant, warming me from the inside out.

“Not bad,” I admitted.

Sylvain clapped her hands. “There! See? You’re already becoming one of us.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I said, setting the glass down and eyeing the table warily.

Their lord finally spoke again, his deep voice commanding. “Eat, Queen of Light. You’ll need your strength for what lies ahead.”

His words should have been ominous, but they were drowned out by Sylvain leaning over and whispering, “If you survive breakfast, you’ll survive anything.”

I wasn’t sure if they were joking or not. I set my fork down with deliberate care, trying to ignore the strange texture of the smoked duskfin that I was definitely pretending to enjoy. Next to me, their dark lord, was the picture of regal calm, effortlessly peeling what looked like a charred black fruit with claw-like precision.

“So,” I began, folding my hands in my lap and fixing him with what I hoped was a polite yet pointed look, “are introductions not a thing in the dark realm?”

The room fell silent, save for the faint, wet squelch of Sylvain biting into yet another wriggling shalvra egg. I shot her a glare, which she ignored entirely, her grin widening as if she lived for the awkward tension I’d just created.

The lord’s dark eyes lifted from his task, and he tilted his head slightly, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I assumed you knew who I was.”

“Ah, of course,” I said, voice dripping with mock understanding. “Silly me for not immediately recognizing the illustrious dark lord of… whatever terrifying fortress I’ve currently wandered into.”

Quill, seated beside me, coughed softly, though it sounded suspiciously like he was hiding a laugh.

The lord leaned back in his chair, his imposing frame exuding an air of amusement. “Drakaris,” he said finally, his voice as smooth as velvet. “Lord of Shadows, Keeper of the Obsidian Spire, and—”

“Oh, good grief,” I interrupted, holding up a hand. “I didn’t ask for your résumé. I just wanted your name.”

Sylvain burst out laughing, nearly choking on her food. “I like her,” she declared, pounding her chest theatrically.

Drakaris’s smirk widened, though his tone remained calm. “Ciara of the Light, do you make a habit of sassing those who could destroy you with a thought?”

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. “Only when they forget basic manners. Now, is it common for dark fae to skip introductions, or not?”

Quill muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “She’s going to get herself killed,” while Sylvain leaned back in her chair, thoroughly entertained.

Drakaris studied me for a long moment, his piercing gaze unreadable. Finally, he inclined his head slightly as though conceding some invisible battle.

“I suppose I did overlook that formality,” he admitted. “Consider it corrected.”

“Thank you,” I said primly, reaching for my glass of nightroot brew. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Sylvain burst out laughing so hard at this point that her chair nearly tipped over, and Quill shook his head, his lips twitching with the effort not to smile.