Aethelindria's Legacy - Prologue (4)

Breathing was almost impossible, and his vision blurred as he struggled to stay conscious. Each heartbeat felt like it could be his last, and the cold from the ground slowly seeped into his bones, promising him an eternal rest.

But just when everything seemed lost, a warm, soft light broke into his field of vision, as if dawn had decided to illuminate his dark reality. An ethereal figure appeared before him, wrapped in a golden glow that drove away the darkness and pain, bringing with it a sense of peace he hadn't felt in years.

"Who... are you?" he murmured.

She smiled, and though he couldn’t understand it at that moment, that smile marked the beginning of something destined to change his life forever.

"I am Eva," she replied, her voice smooth and calm "You will live and learn. You will be my student, and you will show me the world you come from."

She extended her hand toward him, gently caressing his cheek. The warmth that radiated from her touch was immediate, penetrating through the cold and the despair that had accompanied him for so long. For a moment, he felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. It was a strange warmth, yet comforting, like a mother embracing her child for the first time.

"Now, tell me your name," she said, leaning slightly toward him.

He blinked, trying to focus his tear-filled eyes. His mind was confused, but there was something about that question, about her voice, that sparked a flicker of life within him.

"Edarian."

Slowly, Edarian regained consciousness, emerging from a deep sleep that still felt real. His eyes remained closed, but he could already feel the weight of the physical world upon him: the soft purring of the little dog asleep near his feet and the faint echo of his own breathing in the silent room.

However, something pulled him completely out of his thoughts—an insistent noise coming from another room. It was just a creak at first, but then it transformed into a subtle knock that resonated through the stillness of the house. Edarian opened his eyes, wondering if it had been a product of his imagination or if someone—or something—was really out there.

It was then that the sound grew clearer, pulling him fully out of the refuge of his dreams. Intrigued, he got up cautiously, each movement measured and silent. The puppy followed close behind, its small paws making soft echoes on the floor as they both moved toward the source of the sound. Edarian grabbed a bat leaning against the corner, preparing himself for whatever he might find. His heart pounded forcefully, marking a steady rhythm that seemed to blend with the faint dripping of the kitchen sink.

The house, though modest, wasn’t tiny. It had a small main living area doubling as a dining room and living room, separated by a worn curtain from the makeshift kitchen. At the back, two doors led to the bedrooms: one used by Edarian and another that usually stayed closed, almost forgotten amidst the gray, routine-filled days.

When he finally reached the slightly ajar door of the closet, Edarian took a deep breath and pushed it open carefully. The wood creaked softly as it swung open, revealing what lay inside. To his surprise, there was a girl, deeply asleep. She seemed to have taken refuge in this forgotten corner with no intention of being discovered, curled up among shadows and cobwebs as if the outside world had ceased to exist for her.

The light spilling in from the hallway reached her face, waking her slowly. With a long, sleepy yawn, she began to sit up, rubbing her eyes with her hands. But when their gazes met, the girl’s expression changed dramatically. She brought a hand to her mouth, stifling a gasp of surprise upon finding herself face-to-face with Edarian, who watched her with curiosity and a hint of distrust.

"Who are you?" asked Edarian, holding the bat firmly, though his tone was more curious than threatening.

The girl didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she quickly glanced around, and after sighing, realizing she had no escape, she swiftly stood up.

At that moment, the puppy that had been following Edarian approached her, wagging its tail enthusiastically, as if sensing the unique energy emanating from her. The girl smiled instantly, a warm and genuine expression that completely transformed her previous look of surprise. Without hesitation, she knelt beside the dog and began petting it gently, scratching behind its ears while it barked softly, delighted by the attention.

As Edarian watched her laugh and play with the animal, his eyes caught unusual details about her appearance. She wore peculiar attire, as if she had stepped straight out of an ancient tale: a long, flowing dark-toned dress edged with faintly glowing silver embroidery. A fitted belt adorned with small pockets hung at her waist, and a short cape fluttered behind her with every agile movement, giving her an almost magical, ethereal air. It was clear she wasn’t an ordinary person; everything about her exuded an otherworldly quality, as if she belonged to another realm.

But what truly caught Edarian’s attention were two striking details. First, he noticed her left arm was wrapped in clean but visibly improvised bandages, as if she had recently suffered a wound. The bandages were lightly stained in some spots, indicating she hadn’t fully healed yet. Yet, she moved without any discomfort, acting as if she didn’t even notice the injury.

The second detail was even more surprising. When she leaned over to pet the dog, her hair slid back, revealing pointed ears peeking out slightly beneath her mane. They were delicate yet unmistakable—ears similar to Eva’s. There was no doubt this girl had some connection to the magical world.

Acting on instinct, Edarian quickly reached out and grabbed one of her ears, inspecting it in astonishment. His gesture was impulsive, almost childlike, as if trying to confirm what his eyes had already seen.

"Hey!" she protested, pulling away sharply with a frown. "What do you think you’re doing?"

Her reaction was immediate—a mix of indignation and surprise. Then, the girl began examining him more closely. She noticed his pajamas, his defensive posture, and most notably, his size. Edarian was small, and though she wasn’t particularly tall, he was even shorter. She looked him up and down, assessing him curiously.

With a teasing smile, she extended her hand and ruffled his hair condescendingly. "Relax, kid," she said in a tone mixing lightness and arrogance. "I won’t hurt you."

Edarian felt anger surge within him like an uncontrollable torrent. "I’m not a kid!" he retorted firmly, trying to push her hand away with all his strength. But to his surprise, she possessed superhuman strength, as if her arms were made of something stronger than steel.

Before he could say anything else, her attention shifted elsewhere in the room. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity as they fixed on a hanging clock decorating one of the walls.

"Ahhh!" she exclaimed, letting out a mix of awe and fascination.

Without a second thought, she rushed toward it, as if the object exerted an irresistible pull. The clock, though simple at first glance, emitted a special aura. Its hands didn’t follow a conventional rhythm; instead of numbers, tiny fairies danced in circles, moving to the beat of an invisible wind. It was a unique creation, a gift Eva had made for Edarian years ago when he was just beginning to understand the magical world.

Suddenly, the figures on the clock came to life: tiny fairies emerged from their niches, dancing and floating in the air as if celebrating her arrival. Their movements were graceful and ethereal, filling the room with a soft glow that seemed to transform the entire atmosphere. The scene was magical, almost surreal, and the girl couldn’t help but laugh softly, a laugh filled with wonder and delight.

"What’s so funny?" Edarian asked.

The girl didn’t respond right away. Instead, she extended a hand toward the fairies, which fluttered around her fingers like playful fireflies. One of them delicately landed on her palm, and she observed it with amazement, almost as if seeing something she’d missed for a long time.

Finally, the girl lifted her gaze to meet his. "They're beautiful, aren't they? I've always loved fairies."

It was only when their eyes met that Edarian noticed something else. For the first time since he’d seen her, he truly saw her. Her golden hair shimmered faintly under the dim light, as if capturing glimmers of a hidden sun behind the clouds. Her large, expressive eyes reflected a unique blend of innocence and ancient wisdom that left him momentarily speechless. A soft blush tinged her cheeks as she tried to hide the obvious: the girl was... stunning.

"It’s... interesting," Edarian murmured finally, trying to regain control of the situation. But his curiosity could no longer be contained. He frowned, crossing his arms to appear more intimidating, though his voice betrayed his confusion. "But that doesn’t answer my question! Who are you?"

A mischievous smile began to form on her lips. With a swift, theatrical gesture, she placed a hand atop her head, and to Edarian’s astonished gaze, a hat appeared as if summoned from thin air. It was a black hat so deep, it seemed to swallow all the light around it, giving her an almost supernatural air. Its conical shape rose majestically, crowned by an elegant, finely crafted tip, while the wide brim cast a shadow that partially concealed her face, adding a touch of mystery.

With an exaggerated motion, she tipped the hat slightly, bowing to one side as if performing a theatrical bow before an invisible audience. Then, with a mischievous glint in her eyes and a confident voice, she added:

"I'm Hilara."

Meanwhile, Eva stood face-to-face with the creature. Observing it more closely, she noticed every strange detail in its appearance: its eyes glowed with an inhuman hue, and its smile remained fixed, as if sewn onto its face. Everything about it radiated a chilling unnaturalness, as though it were a grotesque mockery of the natural world.

"Pip!"

Eva's voice, sharp and clear, cut through the tense silence: "Pip!"

"Yes!" responded the diminutive figure, fluttering quickly toward Eva and diving into the safety of her hat. It was a pointed hat, similar to the one Hilara wore—dark and mysterious—but now it served as a shelter for the frightened companion.

"Tell me, what did that being steal?" Eva asked urgently, leaning slightly to speak directly to her companion.

The fairy timidly emerged from the shadow of the hat, adjusting her round glasses while trying to read a small magical scroll that floated before her. Her expression shifted from confusion to astonishment as she finally deciphered the words written there.

"Box... Box... Pandora's Box!" the fairy exclaimed, her voice a fragile thread of terror.

Instantly, Eva's body tensed. Her eyes widened in horror as she grasped the implications of what she had just heard. Before she could fully react, the creature let out a guttural laugh and lunged toward her at a dizzying speed.

Eva reacted instinctively, stepping back just in time to avoid the attack. Beads of sweat trickled down her forehead as she struggled to stay alert. The tiny fairy screamed in panic, retreating once again into Eva’s hat, leaving only her tail peeking out over the brim.

Finally, Eva managed to put some distance between herself and the creature. However, as she did so, she noticed something troubling: her right arm had begun to drip blood. She had been injured during her evasion, though she had barely felt the impact amidst the chaos. Frowning, she closed her eyes momentarily before reopening them with renewed determination.

Eva kept her gaze locked on the creature, not allowing herself to blink even once. Her mind raced, piecing together fragments of information as she tried to comprehend the magnitude of what was happening.

"The Box of Pandora... The one my mother protected for centuries. Not just any being could have stolen it."

Her thoughts rushed forward, one after another, like waves crashing against rocks.

"Moreover, the box can only be opened by its creator—or by Hilara and me. That means whoever did this knew exactly what it was and how to carry it out. But who? Who would have access to that kind of knowledge?"

The creature continued to smile, unmoving, as if it knew exactly what was going through her mind. Eva clenched her teeth, fighting the urge to lunge forward and demand answers. But she had to remain calm. One wrong move, and everything could unravel.

Elsewhere, Aethelindria approached the shattered bridge that separated the outer world from the ruined city, dispatching dark shadows that surged from all directions to attack her. Her gaze wasn't drawn to the raging river, but to the shimmering barrier floating beyond, nearly imperceptible to the untrained eye.

Aethelindria stopped before the barrier, her eyes narrowing as she assessed its nature. It wasn’t something that could be broken; she knew this instinctively. It was woven with threads of ancient magic. However, she also knew she could cross it. The barrier wouldn’t reject her—but that didn’t mean it would be easy. There was a price for passing, a cost she didn’t know but could feel vibrating in the air.

"Prima," she said finally.

The tiny fairy floated to her side, her trembling light reflecting the tension of the moment. Aethelindria could sense how Prima struggled to stay calm in the face of the unknown, but she also knew her companion would never leave, no matter the danger.

"Do you think you can cross?" Prima asked.

Aethelindria nodded slowly, her gaze fixed on the barrier. "Yes, I can do it. But I don’t know what awaits me on the other side... or what the cost of passing will be."

Prima drew closer, her diminutive figure glowing with determination. "Then I’ll go with you. Whatever the price."

Aethelindria shook her head slowly, her gaze firm, a serenity that quelled all argument. "You will stay here," she said softly but unyieldingly. "What lies beyond is dangerous even for me, and I cannot risk anything happening to you."

Prima opened her mouth to protest, her wings trembling slightly as she searched for arguments to persuade her. However, when her eyes met Aethelindria’s, something in her serene yet resolute expression choked the words in her throat. Reflected in that gaze was everything Aethelindria represented: a powerful figure, yes, but also protective and burdened with responsibility. It was clear this decision did not stem from recklessness, but from a deep understanding of the risks involved in crossing the barrier.

Aethelindria extended her hands to her sides, and suddenly, a pair of ethereal wings emerged from her back. They were majestic, made of pure energy that shimmered with golden hues, as if woven from fragments of stars. Without hesitation, she rose from the ground with an almost supernatural grace, beginning to fly toward the shattered bridge. Her movements were fluid and elegant, defying gravity with an ease that seemed born of legend.

Upon reaching the barrier, she paused briefly, hovering in the air as she evaluated its nature. The barrier seemed to vibrate at her presence, emitting a faint and fluctuating glow that contrasted with the powerful radiance of her figure. Despite its apparent fragility, it exuded an unbreakable strength, as if it knew exactly who—or what—was attempting to cross it.

There was no turning back. With renewed determination, she extended a hand toward the translucent surface of the barrier. As she touched it, a surge of energy coursed through her body, thousands of invisible threads pulling at her essence. The barrier wasn’t just assessing her power—it was testing her will, her purpose, her sacrifice. Slowly, she began to cross, each step resonating within her being like a deep echo.

As she moved forward, her body began to change. Her imposing figure, once enveloped in the majesty of her wings and supernatural energy, began to dwindle. Her silvery hair, which had once shone like the full moon, darkened to a dull brown. Her sharp features, marked by centuries of wisdom and responsibility, softened, adopting a younger and more delicate appearance. Her proud posture, which had always radiated power and authority, became smaller and more fragile, as if the barrier itself had stripped away the mantle of greatness surrounding her.

In a matter of seconds, she was no longer the mighty world-shaper. Now, Aethelindria found herself in the form of a child, dressed in simple, worn garments, her eyes, large and holding an innocence that belied the ancient wisdom within. Though her appearance had changed drastically, her gaze remained the same: firm, determined, yet tinged with a melancholy that spoke of countless sacrifices made.

Aethelindria, now in her new form, lowered her eyes to her small, delicate hands, turning them slowly as if trying to recognize them. She had never imagined something like this would happen. She knew the barrier would demand a sacrifice, but she hadn’t expected it to be so profound, so radical. Her power, her essence itself, seemed to have been left behind, trapped on the other side of the barrier. Yet, within her still flickered a spark of resolve, a flame no barrier could extinguish. She understood this transformation wasn't punishment, but necessity. What awaited her on the other side required more than brute strength or infinite magic: it required vulnerability, understanding, and, above all, humanity.