Island of Aeloria ( part 2 )

Her elder sister stepped forward and bowed softly. She looked no older than twelve —slender, with two neat ponytails swaying behind her.

“Thank you, miss, for helping my brother,” she said politely, her voice light but firm.

 “My name is Daisy. These people really know how to annoy the poor.”

She paused for a moment, then smiled shyly.

“If you don’t mind… you can come to our place. You both look like foreigners, so you can stay with us. It’s a big place.”

Ninsula turned to glance at the Guardian, who stood just behind her — arms folded, his tall frame hidden beneath his dark robe. His gaze was narrow and sharp as ever, fixed on the siblings before them, and even in silence, his presence alone made the children shiver faintly.

Sensing the tension, Then Ninsula chuckled softly, breaking the tension like sunlight through mist. Her laughter was light as a breeze.then turning back to the girl. 

“Alright,” she said cheerfully before the Guardian could object. “We’ll go.”
The Guardian’s jaw tensed beneath the hood, but she ignored the look she knew he was giving her.

She was always quick to agree when the chance to wander somewhere new appeared.

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They followed the two children out of the bustling market, leaving behind the calls of merchants and the briny sea breeze.The path rose gently between rocky hills. The air grew cooler—fresh with the scent of damp stone and wild herbs. Sunlight filtered through drifting clouds, painting the slopes in soft gold.

The crunch of pebbles and the chirping of hidden birds filled the silence. Wildflowers leaned over the trail, their colors bright against gray stone. Then, a sudden gust of wind carried the faint scent of woodsmoke.
The boy pointed eagerly ahead.

“There! That’s our town!”

Beyond the rise, nestled between two mountain folds, lay a cluster of wooden houses. Their rooftops glowed golden in the light, with thin threads of smoke curling from chimneys. A stream shimmered alongside the path, winding past lilac-colored trees.

The serenity of the place felt almost unreal—quiet, but alive. The wind whispered through leaves, birds called, and somewhere far away, a bell rang softly.

Ninsula’s hair fluttered in the wind, catching the fading sunlight.

“Wow… it’s beautiful,” she breathed.

---
They stopped before a tall wooden gate carved with graceful letters:
 Orphanage.

Ninsula blinked. “This is an orphanage? So that means—”

“Yes,” Daisy said quickly, smiling.

 “We’re orphans. But don’t worry, our head won’t be angry that we brought guests. She’s kind—been here since she was young. People say she never even married.”

They stepped into the orphanage — a wide, welcoming building with tall walls enclosing a large open yard. Laughter filled the air. Children ran everywhere, chasing one another across the courtyard, their joy echoing off the stone walls like little bells. Several caretakers moved among them, guiding and helping where needed, their smiles soft and patient.
Daisy, still holding her younger brother’s hand, hurried ahead toward one of the side chambers.

“Just wait here for a moment,” she said breathlessly. “We’ll come right back!”

As Daisy disappeared up the stairs, Ninsula’s eyes wandered across the courtyard. The children were all so lively — and yet some stopped their games to look at her curiously, whispering and giggling among themselves. Soon, a few children peeked at her shyly from behind pillars—then gathered the courage to come close.Their shy glances made her smile.

She crouched down, trying to speak to a few of them. At first, they hid behind one another, bashful… but Ninsula was patient, her laughter soft and kind. It didn’t take long before the shy ones began to smile back, inching closer, drawn in by her warmth.

Behind her, the Guardian stood silently, his robe casting a shadow that trailed her every step. His sharp eyes never left her — always vigilant, always protective. To him, this was a strange, almost surreal sight: the princess of a great kingdom laughing freely among children in an orphanage courtyard.

He had never seen her like this before.And she looked… radiant.
Just then, an old voice broke through the laughter — calm and steady, carrying a tone of gentle authority.

“Looks like my children have taken quite a liking to our guest.”

When Ninsula looked up, she saw a woman standing on the steps — older, with gentle lines around her eyes and a soft smile that carried both kindness and fatigue. For a moment, Ninsula felt a strange tug in her chest.

Those deep blue eyes… she had seen them somewhere before.

Beside the woman, Daisy was clinging to her hand, her small face glowing with affection.

The moment the other children noticed her, they all ran toward the woman, laughing and calling out,

“Aunt Elara! Aunt Elara!”

The woman chuckled softly, patting their heads as they crowded around her long dress.

“Good children,” she said kindly. “Now go and play.”

One of the caretakers ushered the children away, and soon the yard grew quiet again. Aunt Elara’s gaze then turned to Ninsula.

Ninsula stepped forward gracefully and bowed slightly.

“Hello,” she said warmly.

 “My name is Ninsula, and this is my fiancé. We’re traveling from the Lorian Kingdom to Naran. The conditions in our homeland… were unbearable.”

The word fiancé hit the Guardian like a thunderbolt.

His head snapped up slightly, eyes widening beneath his hood. What?! For a split second, his calm composure cracked — but he said nothing. Calling himself her “guardian” here would only cause confusion or suspicion, so he stayed silent, his jaw tightening faintly.

Aunt Elara nodded slowly. Her gaze lowered, and a faint sadness flickered across her aged face — a sorrow that looked old and familiar.

“Yes… I’ve heard about Lorian,” she murmured. “Such tragedy… such loss.”
She exhaled softly, then lifted her eyes again, her smile gentle despite the weight in her tone.

“You’re welcome to stay here for a few days, my dear. You’ve done a great kindness saving my children from those soldiers— for that, I owe you my deepest gratitude. I know you’ll continue your journey soon, but until then, this place is your home. In a few days, we’ll hold the Sea Festival — I’d be delighted if you joined us.”

Ninsula’s smile softened. “Thank you, Aunt Elara,” she said sincerely. “We’re truly grateful.”

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The stars blanketed the sky, glittering like scattered diamonds.Out here, in the middle of the sea, the night always looked as if the stars had descended upon the waves themselves — dancing over the dark water in silent grace.

The orphanage was quiet now. All the children were asleep in their small rooms; only a few lanterns flickered softly against the old wooden walls, their glow swaying with the ocean breeze.

After so many restless nights, Princess Ninsula finally lay under a real blanket — warm and soft — her breathing steady, almost drifting into sleep.

Her guardian gently pulled the blanket higher over her shoulders, a faint smile touching his lips before he turned and stepped outside her room.
The corridor opened to a small balcony on the second floor. He leaned against the railing, folding his arms over it as he looked up at the sky. His dark purple eyes shimmered faintly in the moonlight, strands of hair brushing his cheekbones and falling to the collar of his robe. A quiet sigh escaped his lips, mist curling into the cold air.

Then — footsteps. Slow, steady.
He turned.There stood the old woman — Aunt Elara — a wooden stick in one hand, her silver hair glowing pale under the lantern light.

She smiled gently.“Would you care to talk for a while? Let’s walk here.”
He hesitated, glancing back at the room. He was about to decline politely when Aunt Elara spoke again — her voice soft but heavy with meaning.

“Don’t worry. She’ll be safe.”

A pause. Then her eyes, faintly glimmering, lifted toward him.

“How could I ever let harm come to my own brother’s child?”

His eyes widened — the cold air seeming to freeze around him.Brother’s… child?


—------------

A little later, they were walking slowly across the lawn below. The night air was cool and smelled faintly of salt. The orphanage, quiet behind them, glowed softly with scattered lights.

The guardian’s gaze, however, kept drifting upward — toward the balcony where Ninsula slept, her room faintly lit by a single lamp. Even from here, he couldn’t help glancing again and again, making sure she was safe.
After a moment, his voice broke the silence — calm but edged with suspicion.

“Would you like to explain what you said earlier? If she’s your relative… why doesn’t she recognize you?”

Aunt Elara smiled faintly, her eyes lifting toward the moonlit sky. In their depths shimmered years of buried memories.

“I am King Owan’s cousin,” she said softly. “But because of life’s choices, I ended up here. It’s been many years since I left that world. She doesn’t know me — “ 

A pause, 

“ her father never allowed his daughter to meet me. He was such… a cruel man.”she said in an accusing smile. 

She sighed, then chuckled lightly.
“Child, I know who you are too. I was quite surprised when she called you her fiancé. She must have been in quite a situation.”Her laugh carried a warmth that echoed faintly across the empty yard.

The guardian’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes followed her carefully.

“Then… shouldn’t you meet her now?” he asked quietly.

The woman looked up at the moon. For a moment, her face seemed both young and tired—softened by the pale light.

“The moon still rises the same way,” she murmured. 

“Back then, he said its light looked like spilled wine over the sea.”

The night breeze carried her words away. Her hair swayed; her eyes gleamed with something tender and distant.

“Sometimes,” she whispered, “we grow so tired of life that all we want is peace. Freedom, even if it means being forgotten.”

Her staff clicked against the stone as she walked away, her shadow stretching long under the moonlight—like a memory returning to silence.
The guardian stood there for a long while, eyes lifted to the starry sky. The night breeze brushed against his face, cool and steady. His lips parted, voice barely louder than a whisper carried by the wind.

“Freedom…” he murmured, eyes blinking slowly. “What is the meaning of freedom? I never learnt it.”

The words dissolved into the night air, mingling with the rustle of leaves and the distant murmur of waves. Then he closed his eyes, letting the silence answer for him.

(Hey my dear readers! 💕 If you’re enjoying the story, please let me know with a like or a comment—it truly makes me so happy and keeps me motivated! 

The next chapter will be a special one, but since I have my papers coming up, I’ll be taking a short break. The next update will be out next Friday. Thank you so much for your patience and support! 💙)