The island of Aeloria

Their journey after that night went smoothly. Sometimes, Ninsula came out of the storage room at night to take in the sea’s cool air. There was no problem with food now; her moods changed like tides ,sometimes sad, sometimes happy, and sometimes mischievous, her true self peeking through the quiet.

A month passed before they finally neared the island of Aeloria  ,a place where they were to stay for a week.

“Master, we’ll reach Aeloria by morning,” the Guardian said respectfully.

Ninsula paced between the crates, doing light exercise after dinner. Just as she turned, her foot bumped into a box.

Thud.

It fell, spilling its contents, and she froze instantly, a small gasp escaping as she clapped a hand over her mouth. They were not supposed to make noise.

Her eyes flicked toward the Guardian, wide and guilty, looking just like a child caught doing something wrong.

“Aaah… I—I was just doing… some exercise…” she murmured softly.

He scanned the surroundings silent. No one had heard. Moving forward, he knelt down in the dim lantern light, carefully putting things back into the box. His hands paused as his eyes caught a fine powder inside. He touched it slightly, recognizing it.

“Hair dye…” he muttered.

Then he stood and placed a hand across his chest, eyes closed, as always calm.Bowed a little. 

“Master, we still have a long journey ahead, and among normal people, your appearance stands out too much. I suggest we dye your hair—from white to brown. It will help us blend in. I can do it for you.”

She hesitated a moment, then smiled warmly. “Alright. That would be best.”

---

By the next morning, the ship reached the shores of Aeloria. On the upper deck, shouts of merchants filled the air . 

“Carry that box!” 
“Watch your step!” 

 the salty scent of island soil mixing with the noise of busy trade.

The captain ordered two crewmen to open the storage room door. They nodded and went below, unlocking it. But moments later, a heavy thud echoed, an elbow struck, and one of the men collapsed with a muffled groan. The other froze, panic rising.
“Who’s there?!”

The faint light from above barely cut through the darkness. A shadow moved behind him —

 thud. 
Silence.

The figure came out of shadows who struck these both men.there is darkness in the storage room except the light rays coming from the door and cracks.The Guardian stepped forward as both men slumped to the floor. 

“Master, let’s wear these clothes quickly. We need to move out before they notice.”

From the shadows, Princess Ninsula stepped forward into the thin sunlight pouring down from the open hatch above. But she was not the same as the night before.

Her once-white hair now shimmered with soft light-brown hues dyed by the Guardian only hours ago. The change made her look less ethereal, more human… yet no less beautiful. Her blue eyes still glimmered beneath the golden light as she gave a small nod.
Moments later, two men left the storage room… but they were not the same who had entered earlier. 

They blended seamlessly with the crowd of deckhands and travelers, moving among crates and barrels as if they belonged there. No one paid them any mind.

The Guardian glanced back over his shoulder, signaling her to follow. Ninsula obeyed quietly, keeping close behind him. After a while, they stepped down the gangplank and onto the busy shores of Aeloria.

The dock was alive with chaos — sailors shouting, merchants haggling, carts creaking under heavy loads. The crowd flowed like a restless tide, people coming and going without pause.

He halted for a moment, turning slightly to look back at the ship now shrinking in the distance.

“They’ll realize soon enough,” he murmured, “that someone’s been hiding in their storage room.”

Ninsula tilted her head toward him, bending at the waist, her robe slipping from her head to her shoulders so that her long, newly brown hair spilled to one side. Looking up at him with playful curiosity, she asked softly,
“Do you think they’ll be mad that we used their dye? I heard it’s expensive.”

He looked down at her, his eyes cool as ever but then a faint smirk curved his lips, one meant more for the distant captain than for her.

“Master,” he said lightly, 

“they’ll likely be confused… and perhaps even grateful, that the thieves who snuck aboard were kind enough to steal only a box of hair dye and nothing more.”

Ninsula stifled a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand as they disappeared into the crowd once more.

In truth, staying on the ship would have been dangerous. The luggage had to be transported off, and waiting for the next voyage to Naran Kingdom could take days.

Now, walking through the bustling port, Ninsula’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. She tugged on his sleeve, smiling brightly under the morning sun.

“I want to explore the marketplace! Please, can we go? I’m sure they can’t find me now.”

He hesitated, then nodded once.

—-------

She looked around with wide, sparkling eyes the flush of excitement draping over her cheeks. Everywhere she turned, colors danced before her: bright garments swaying in the breeze, jewelry glinting like captured sunlight, and merchants shouting to sell their goods over the hum of the crowd.

Children darted between stalls, laughing as they played, while grand figures nobles or merchants of high standing walked proudly with attendants trailing behind. The air was thick with the scent of spices, roasted fruits, and sea salt.

The Guardian walked steadily ahead, his long robe concealing most of his body and face. Ninsula stayed close, clutching his arm tightly; the crowd was too thick, too alive; she knew how easily she could get lost in it.

Her gaze caught on the fluttering banners strung across the street, painted in deep blues and golds.

 “There must be villages here too,” she said, her voice bright with wonder. 

“I studied about this island in my lessons. Aeloria is famous for its rare herbs and poisons. Many of the fruits here can’t be eaten freely they can be deadly. The people live simple lives and still follow old traditions… and they worship the Sea God.” 

She paused, looking around at the decorations and the music drifting through the air. 

“I think today must be one of their festivals!”

He listened silently, the hood of his robe shadowing his calm expression, though his eyes never stopped moving watchful, alert, trained by instinct to notice every small threat.
Before he could answer, she was already dragging him toward a line of stalls bursting with colors and laughter.

“Come on! Try to smile a little or people will think you’re a statue. Let’s enjoy just a bit!”

She dragged him through the crowd, laughing softly, until her gaze fell on a small stall glimmering with jewelry.

Among the trinkets, a band shimmered faintly not silver, not gold, but dark purple colour with veins of silver . She couldn’t take her eyes off it.

The merchant girl noticed and smiled. Lifting the ring between her fingers, she let the faint light play on its surface.

“Ah, you’ve got an eye for rare things,” she teased. 

“That’s Viorite,a metal born where moonlight meets volcanic fire. See how dull it looks now?” She turned it, and it caught the light but didn’t glow.

“But when a man touches it…” her voice dropped, “…it shimmers softly, like it’s breathing. Some say it only shines for the one it chooses.”

Ninsula’s eyes widened, fascinated.But suddenly she remembered in all the ordeal of their escape from kingdom she had no money just some precious belongings. 

The Guardian stepped forward quietly. 

“Master, I have enough money. You can buy it.” Though his position brought him a handsome salary, he had no reason ,and no one , to spend it on.

She blinked, surprised then grinned mischievously. Folding her arms with mock authority, she announced, 

“Then your money is mine. As your master, I am confiscating your wealth!”

The merchant giggled. Ninsula then pointed to the ring. “I want this band.” She slipped it onto her finger and pouted. “It doesn’t fit properly. Help me.”

Without hesitation, he took her hand gently and slid the ring into place. He got confused thinking 

 Why did she ask me to put it on her? It is already loose enough. 

It fit perfectly and in that instant, the band shimmered with a soft violet glow.

The merchant gasped.“Oh my—did anyone see that?!”

Ninsula’s lips curved into a mischievous grin, and she burst into laughter — the sound like bells in the market’s hum.

He sighed, realizing he was shaking his head with a hand to his face.

“Master… that legend may not be about a chosen soul, but simply any man who touches it. There are many such charms here.”

But she didn’t seem to care, still giggling as they moved on through the lively market.

___________________

A sudden shout tore through the noise of the market — a boy’s frightened cry.

Ninsula turned sharply.
Not far away, a soldier in ornate island armor had seized a small boy by the arm, yanking him forward until the child nearly fell against his chest. The man’s face twisted in fury.

“You little devil!” he roared. “I know you stole my money! Give it back, or I’ll kill you right here!”

The boy’s sister rushed in front of him, her small frame trembling but defiant. She wrapped her arms protectively around her brother as he hid his face against her.

“He said he didn’t steal anything!” she shouted, glaring up at the soldier. “How can you accuse whoever you want just because you wear armor?”
The soldier sneered, raising his whip high — the leather slicing the air.

Snap—

But before it could fall, a gloved hand caught the whip midair. The soldier froze, eyes widening as he looked up into a pair of cold, unyielding eyes.

The Guardian stood there — tall, motionless, the edge of his robe stirring faintly in the sea breeze. His grip on the whip was iron, unmoving. The soldier tugged, but it didn’t even shift. Sweat beaded at his temple. That gaze… it felt like death itself was staring back at him.

With one sharp pull, the Guardian yanked the whip from his grasp, forcing the man to stumble forward. His voice came low and calm — yet it carried like thunder.“If you have no proof,” he said, “then back off.”
The soldier hesitated, swallowing hard. Then, muttering a curse, he turned away and stormed off.

Ninsula knelt before the children, her tone soft. “Are you alright?”

The little boy looked up, clutching her hand. “Thank you, miss… and… uncle,” he whispered shyly.

The Guardian blinked, startled. Ninsula bit her lip, fighting a laugh.
“Uncle suits you,” she teased softly.