Rubin thought about what the elder had said, covering his dagger with a cloth. It marked him as the Prince of Drakos, but so did his wings. No amount of concealment could change that. Beside him, Elara hesitated for a moment before adjusting the flowing fabric of her dress—a garment woven from seafoam and iridescent scales, shimmering like water under moonlight. A siren’s dress. It felt strange on land, but in Elarion, where magic was as common as breath, it wasn’t entirely out of place.

They had finally arrived in Elarion.

“Welcome to Elarion, the city of elves,” Kaelen announced, though his earlier enthusiasm had faded. His usual warm smile was gone, replaced by a distant expression.

Aeloria took a deep breath, her pale blue eyes scanning the familiar white-stone spires and luminescent trees that lined the streets. “It’s been a while since I was last here,” she murmured. Then, with a determined nod, she turned to the trio. “Come on, let’s get you to my parents.”

As they walked through the streets, elves clad in silver and deep green cloaks turned to stare. Whispers followed them, eyes lingering on Rubin’s folded wings and Elara’s strange attire. The dress clung to her like mist, the fabric rippling unnaturally as if responding to an unseen current. Some elves looked at her with curiosity, others with suspicion.

“I don’t think they like us much,” Elara muttered under her breath.

Kaelen exhaled softly. “They’re wary of outsiders. And a Drakos prince walking through Elarion? That’s bound to stir some rumors.”

Rubin kept his head high but felt the weight of their stares. He had grown used to being seen as a threat—Drakos and Elarion had never been allies. The fact that an elven noble was escorting him through the city was likely scandalous enough to fuel a week’s worth of gossip.

Aeloria led them through winding paths lined with shimmering vines and stone bridges arching over clear streams. At last, they reached a grand estate carved into the side of a massive tree, its silverwood doors adorned with intricate carvings of moon phases and blooming flowers.

She turned to them with a smirk, though there was something unreadable in her expression. “Well, here we are. Let’s hope my parents are in a welcoming mood.”

Rubin wasn’t sure whether that was meant to reassure them or warn them. Either way, there was no turning back now.

Aeloria pushed open the doors.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of elder blossoms and magic. The walls pulsed faintly, as if the tree itself was alive and listening. Two figures stood at the far end of the grand hall—a woman with flowing silver hair and sharp, assessing eyes, and a man with deep blue markings spiraling across his arms, a sign of immense power.

Aeloria took a step forward and bowed her head. “Mother. Father. I’ve returned.”

Her parents’ gazes flickered over Rubin and Elara, pausing at Elara’s dress. The woman’s lips parted slightly, recognition flashing in her eyes.

“A siren’s weave,” she murmured, stepping closer. “That is no ordinary dress, child. Where did you find such a thing?”

Elara swallowed hard, suddenly feeling as though the dress was a second skin she could never remove.

Rubin stiffened as Aeloria’s mother, Queen Sylwen, approached Elara, her sharp gaze fixed on the siren’s dress. The silver-haired elf barely spared Rubin a glance, though he could feel the weight of her magic pressing against him, assessing him in silence.

“That is no ordinary dress, child,” Sylwen murmured, brushing her fingers along the fabric, which shimmered under her touch. “Where did you find such a thing?”

Elara swallowed, the dress clinging to her skin like it had a mind of its own. “It was… given to me,” she answered carefully, avoiding details.

Sylwen’s piercing gaze lingered on her before shifting to the others. “I see. You bring strange company home, Aeloria.”

Aeloria sighed. “Mother, Father,” she turned to address both her parents, standing tall despite their scrutiny. “We need your help. We’re traveling to the Veil of Stars.”

The hall fell into an uneasy silence. Aeloria’s father, King Vaelen, finally spoke, his voice deep and measured. “The Veil is forbidden. No one who enters returns unchanged—if they return at all.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Rubin interjected, his wings shifting slightly as he stepped forward. “Himu is in danger. His father means to kill him, and if we don’t reach him in time, he won’t have a chance to escape.”

Vaelen’s gaze darkened. “And why should we allow you to pass through our lands? A Drakos prince, a human wearing a siren’s weave, and our wayward daughter—your presence alone disrupts the balance here.”

Kaelen cleared his throat. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, they mean no harm.”

Sylwen exhaled through her nose, considering them. “The Veil of Stars is a cursed place. If the angel prince is there, he is already lost.”

Elara’s fists clenched at her sides. “He’s not lost yet.”

Rubin met the queen’s gaze with unwavering resolve. “We understand the risks. But we won’t abandon him.”

The queen exchanged a look with the king. Finally, Vaelen nodded. “Then go. But do not expect Elarion to offer sanctuary should you return bearing misfortune.”

Aeloria clenched her jaw but gave a slight bow. “Thank you, Father.”

No more words were exchanged as the trio left the estate, stepping into the cool night air. The streets were quieter now, but Rubin still felt the weight of unseen eyes tracking their every move.

They had barely made it past the outskirts of the city when Rubin felt a sharp impact at the back of his head. His vision blurred, the world tilting sideways as he stumbled forward.

“Elara—” was all he managed before darkness swallowed him whole.