The words of Zyar are completely absurd! What reason could the Sonatius Mortaeda have to destroy a world in which he himself exists?

  “But the Sonatius Mortaeda is a part of Elindros!” I respond loudly, hoping that his answer will bring me clarity. “That makes no sense!”

  Zyar laughs quietly. His gaze is cold, almost pitying. “The Sonatius Mortaeda is not bound to any dimension. Not even to Elindros.”

  “If he is not bound to any place, why has he been in Elindros for centuries?” I ask, confused. My gaze drifts to the Kairon, who, just like Aetherion, seem to be doing the same thing all the time. Are they here willingly as well? “What keeps him here if he is free?”

  Zyar shrugs. His indifference is terrifying. He seems so different from the time when he opposed my marriage at the castle. Now, he doesn’t seem sympathetic at all. “The Sonatius Mortaeda possesses all the power and abilities that exist in all dimensions. His motives are incomprehensible to us Elindine. But I’m sure you’ll be able to ask him about it yourself—once you are his vessel.”

  A shiver runs through me. He knows that I do not want to accept this role, and yet he says something like that? It’s pointless to discuss this with him. He will not understand me.

  “That means... he cannot die,” I murmur, half to myself. An eternal life. What a lonely existence—just like Aetherion’s. At least the Kairon have each other.

  Zyar nods. For the first time, he gives me a clear answer. “An eternal life, indeed.”

  “That must be unbearably lonely.” The thought slips out before I can stop it. “Aetherion has been trapped in the Astralis for centuries. Lonely, without purpose. It’s not fair.”

  I look at Zyar thoughtfully. Can such a life truly bring joy, or is it, in reality, an eternal torment? His laughter pulls me out of my thoughts—a short, cold laugh.

  “Oh, how mistaken you are,” he says, shaking his head. “In his immortality, the Sonatius Mortaeda has met countless lives. We Elindine seem to be the most interesting beings to him. That is probably the reason for his long stay in Elindros. To him, playing with the lives of the Losniw is a pleasure. A cruel pleasure. Being the vessel of such a monster is a torment. The more the vessel suffers, the happier the Sonatius Mortaeda becomes. Think back to your time in the castle. Mayyira Valdyris was always pleased to see you on the ground. Don’t you think that’s exactly why she didn’t send you away, but kept you under control? Some beings—humans, Elindine, or primordial beings like the Sonatius Mortaeda—feed off the suffering of others. Do you understand that?”

  I swallow. His words are harsh, but they hit the truth. The queen treated me badly because she enjoyed it. Her heart was full of malice—malice that was directed only at me.

  “How is it decided who the burden is passed on to?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.

  Zyar crosses his arms and sighs. “Once a vessel becomes too old and weak to bear the powers of the Sonatius Mortaeda, the power is passed on to the next chosen one. An endless cycle.”

  A sharp pain strikes my heart. Can I live a peaceful life in old age if I cannot escape this fate? But how could I live with myself knowing that another Losniw will take on my burden? “So, when I’m old, I’ll be freed?”

  My gaze briefly falls on Sylas, who looks down, troubled. He leaves the talking to his father. Zyar shakes his head decisively. The coldness in his eyes is unyielding. “The passing of the Sonatius Mortaeda’s power means death for the vessel. Vespera, your life ends with the fulfillment of your task.”

  “Task? You call that a task?” I scream angrily. The rage overwhelms me, and I can no longer hold it back. “This is not a task, this is a burden! I am forced to be the vessel of a primordial being! Why did my mother impose this burden on me? What kind of mother does something like that? Was I not important enough to her? Zyar, answer me! You knew my mother. You must know!”

  “I cannot tell you why Isilyn made that decision,” says Zyar, but his eyes avoid mine. He is hiding something, I can clearly feel it. “When she came to me to hand over the Astralis, I had no idea that I wouldn’t see her again for the next 18 years. And now you’re here... Vespera, you look exactly like your mother.”

  “I don’t care about that right now!” I hiss back angrily. But deep inside, his remark strikes a nerve. To know that I look like my mother gives me at least a clue of how she might have looked. Whether she is really dead remains uncertain. Who knows, maybe King Mukuta has been lying to me all these years. “I don’t know anything about Losnat, but I would never harm an innocent Elindine!”

  “Innocent?” Zyar repeats with a mocking laugh. “You have no idea about Losnat and its inhabitants.”

  “That’s right!” I reply, my hands shaking. “I don’t know who the Losniw are or what they are like! But that doesn’t justify any suffering!” Zyar, who has been staring at me with an impassive look, now throws me a look full of hatred. No surprise—after all, I am also part of Losnat. “The Losniw have suffered for a goal that remains unattainable even after centuries! How many more vessels must sacrifice their lives for this peace—which, by the way, has not been maintained for centuries?”

  “As many as necessary,” Zyar replies coldly, without even blinking. He couldn’t care less how many Losniw have to give their lives. “Have you ever thought about the harm an Elindine could cause if they misused the power of the Sonatius Mortaeda for their own purposes, if the Losniw had not volunteered to become vessels? Then not only Elindros would be in danger, but also the human world—perhaps even the Nexari! Are you aware that even the Synnx tremble before this primordial being?”

  Even the Synnx...? How can a single being spread such terror? “Every living being has its purpose. Whether it’s Aetherion, the Kairon, or the Losniw. They all exist for a single reason. Just like you, Vespera. Why change something if it works?”

  What kind of view is that? Did I really admire this man back at the castle? Zyar Velqorin? What a fool I was.

  “Then explain something to me,” I say, clenching my fists. I am fighting with all my might against the rage that is bubbling inside me. Sylas has withdrawn and silently observes the conversation. Slowly, it becomes clear to me that he acts strangely when he is near his father. “How did my mother manage to resist this burden? Why was she not made the vessel of the Sonatius Mortaeda, like I am?”

  Zyar looks at me with a gaze that unmistakably signals that the answer is right in front of me.

  “Isilyn passed her burden on to her unborn child. Your mother became the new vessel at the age of 21. Even when Isilyn was born, it was clear that one day she would take this path. She, too, had—just like you—great fear of it. A few months after I last saw your mother 18 years ago, three moons appeared in the sky again in Elindros. That was the moment when I realized that she could no longer be the vessel. To be honest, I wasn’t sure that she was pregnant with you... It was more of a vague suspicion. That’s why I spent the last few years searching for you in the different dimensions. Eventually, I ended up in the human world, where I felt an exceptionally strong presence—yours.”

  “What exactly do you mean by that?” I ask, confused, while crossing my arms over my chest. I ignore the part about him traveling to other dimensions—that seems irrelevant to me at the moment. But when he talks about my mother, he seems like a completely different Elindine.

  “In a dimension like Elindros, it is much harder to sense the presence of an individual,” Zyar explains firmly. “But in the human world, you shone like a small light in the darkness.”

  “And if my mother is no longer the vessel, then... she’s dead,” I conclude sadly. “After all, the transfer of this power always ends with the death of the vessel.”

  Zyar nods and adds, “At that time, I could only sense your presence. Had Isilyn hidden somewhere in the human world, I wouldn’t have missed it.”

  My world starts to wobble. My mother—the woman who should have loved me more than anything in the world—gave this ancient being permission to use my body as a vessel! I can’t even direct my anger at her because she’s no longer alive.

  “Why did she choose death?” I whisper. The question is more for myself than for my companions. “If she had continued to serve as the vessel for the Sonatius Mortaeda, maybe she would still be with me... and I wouldn’t have had to live with the king and his vile wife.”

  Tears well up inside me, but I refuse to let them fall. Weakness is no longer an option. I don’t trust Zyar—no matter how much he seems to care about my mother. And even if my mother were still alive, could I ever trust her again? She left me with this burden!

  “Every decision in our lives has a reason,” Zyar says calmly. “Even if that reason is sometimes selfish. I don’t believe the Sonatius Mortaeda would accept another transfer. And I don’t even know exactly how it went the first time. I can’t say how Isilyn managed to break free from it.”

  Somehow, I don’t believe he is lying to me or withholding anything. But there are still too many questions left unanswered. Who will be able to answer them for me? The Sonatius Mortaeda, whom I must eventually confront to accept my fate?

  “I just don’t understand…” I whisper. “Why did my mother do this to me?”

  “I don’t know,” Zyar admits softly, as if he has just lifted an invisible burden off his shoulders. “Your mother and I... we were once close friends. She was the strongest warrior of King Rynmar Feroy. By his side, she stood unwavering. Her disappearance was a deep pain for the king she had been loyal to. At least, that’s what I believed.”

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  In the kingdom? My mother was a warrior? How can I even imagine that? “Where was this kingdom? And what led you there back then? Why aren’t you there anymore?”

  Zyar takes a deep breath. He probably hadn’t expected the daughter of his old friend to ask so many questions. He likely thought I would follow all his orders without a word, just because my previous life had been nothing different.

  “You’ve probably noticed that Sylas and I have special abilities,” he says, and I nod in agreement. “Well, we Solniws can control a certain number of elements. You probably remember that Sylas referred to me as the ‘Legate of the Elements’ when he swore his oath.” I nod again. “Among the Solniws, there are only a few who can control all elements. I am the only one who can do that right now. Back then, when I was first able to control more than two elements, I was sent by our village chief, Soran Vaylon, to the previous king, as this was a direct order. Our current king, Valron Feroy, is only a few years older than me, but at that time, his father, Rynmar Feroy, still ruled. He passed away last year at the age of 89, and so his eldest son—our current king—was crowned at the age of 57. I don’t know how other Elindine see the Feroy family, but for me, they are all extremely domineering. Maybe they are perfectly suited for this position. Anyway, Rynmar Feroy made sure that anyone with powers beyond those of others was brought to him. So, at the age of 16, I was trained to become the Legate of the Elements. Before my time, there were still a few Solniws who held this title. The training took place under the throne’s hand, with Eryndor Veldric. In the human world, people like him are called the king’s right hand. A man who neither controls an element nor understands the values of the Solniws. But had I refused, I would have only been allowed to use my first element—air.”

  The realization strikes me like a sudden storm cloud—the king… can he truly decide which powers a Solniw can use? What right does he have to control the abilities of another being? Is it fear that drove the former king to take such measures? Questions swirl in my mind like a storm brewing in the distance.

  “How many elements exist in Elindros?” I ask, my thoughts racing faster than I can keep up.

  Zyar raises a finger, urging me to pause. A moment passes. Sylas watches us from afar, his gaze just as confused as mine.

  Zyar walks slowly, his steps leading him through the expansive estate, passing a shimmering pond. The Kairon lazily drift along, as though even nature shares in the silence that envelops us.

  “Is it wise to leave the Kairon unattended?” I ask, a note of concern creeping into my voice.

  Sylas responds immediately, his tone measured. “They don’t show themselves to everyone, you know that. But even in Solnya, where the inhabitants seem trustworthy, shadows exist. False faces lurk around every corner. So I’ll tell you this: never speak of the Kairon, of Aetherion, or of the Sonatius Mortaeda. You’ve lived for 18 years among humans, but here… here, they’ve waited so long for your return.”

  My brow furrows, the words sounding like a riddle. “What do you mean by that?”

  At that moment, Zyar steps into the garden. He gestures for us to follow him. What must the inside of the house look like? The building itself is already an eye-catching sight with its matte black facade. As I approach the large terrace doors, the long, dark brown blinds prevent me from seeing inside. Zyar must really value his privacy.

  As we step inside, I am greeted by a pleasant warmth. Compared to the human world, winter is approaching in Elindros. I’ve begun to feel the chill, but my lingering anger keeps me distracted.

  Once inside the living room, Zyar heads toward one of the many bookshelves in a corner of the room. A brass lamp sits on a solid oak table, casting a warm light on the books in the middle row. There are about nine bookshelves, lined up next to each other.

  Zyar runs his finger across the spines and pulls out one with a deep green leather cover.

  “In Elindros, the vessels of the Sonatius Mortaeda are considered sacred,” Zyar begins, tapping the book with his palm. “This book was given to me by your mother, along with the Astralis. I was never able to read it because only the Losniw have the right to look inside.”

  “What does that have to do with Sylas’ statement?” I ask, perplexed, my gaze lingering on the book’s elegant dark green hue.

  “To understand the significance of your role in this world, you must, of course, know your past,” he says, now glancing at his son. “The past of the Losniw.”

  I nod silently, my eyes still on the book, and a thought suddenly strikes me. “You were friends with my mother, but how did that come about? I can’t shake the feeling that, Zyar, you actually hold a grudge against the Losniw.”

  “Not just me, Vespera,” he responds quickly. He sits on a single sofa, some distance away from the shelves. Next to it is a large fireplace, where deep blue flames warm the room—the source of the heat that greeted me when I entered. Blue flames? That must be one of Elindros’ peculiarities.

  “As you’ve probably noticed, the terms Solniw and Losniw sound very similar,” he continues. I nod, though I hadn’t really noticed before. “A long time ago, about half a millennium ago, the two villages Solnya and Losnat were founded. The two founders, Rhovan Ardelon and Keldor Entium, were the best of friends. To immortalize their friendship, they decided to each found a village that would ensure peace in Elindros. With the permission of the then-king, Dareth Feroy, those villages were established at the opposite ends of Elindros. Though the founders could no longer meet as often as before, their new task strengthened the bond between the two men.

  Over time, both villages grew, and after half a decade, Eldralith Entium was born—a young girl who, as the story goes, always wore her hair short. However, one feature set her apart from the other Losniw: a long braided strand on the right side, reaching down to her hip. As much as peace was present, the two men knew that it would not last forever. Rhovan Ardelon and Keldor Entium knew that in time, Elindine would emerge who would seek to disrupt this balance.”

  “That’s why the agreement with the Sonatius Mortaeda…,” I say, realizing, and Zyar nods in agreement.

  “Only after Eldralith reached her eighth year did she begin to perceive a strong presence in Elindros,” Zyar explains. “You must know that up until that point, the existence of the primal being was pure speculation. That’s why the Losniw began searching for the source of this power. Eldralith succeeded in this at the age of 17, and she became the first vessel. You must understand that offering one’s body requires an immense amount of strength and willpower. Never before has there been a vessel that, after taking on the Sonatius Mortaeda, was able to rise up and simply continue on as before.”

  Indirectly, he wants to make me understand that, once I begin my role as a vessel, I will not be able to function independently during the first few days. Wonderful.

  A silence follows his words, but the air around us vibrates, as though he has just uncovered the foundation of an ancient, forgotten story. I stare at Sylas and feel the tension in the air intensifying. A crucial detail is still missing—a point that must explain all the events. Finally, he continues, his words heavy with regret.

  “Keldor Entium used all his strength to keep Eldralith alive,” Zyar continues. “But his younger sister, Velris Entium, took advantage of this moment and took Keldor’s life. Once, the Losniws and Solniws were brothers in spirit. But since then, our alliance has been a part of the past—just like the founders. After Velris took control of the village, all Elindine took care to avoid the Losniw. Since the Losniws were no longer welcome anywhere, they withdrew. You are the first Losniw I have encountered in 18 years.”

  Shock seizes me, and disbelief reflects in my eyes. “Her own brother? How could someone do such a thing?” My thoughts drift to Crown Prince Yula. Despite his cruelty, I would never have done something like that to him, never committed such an act of betrayal. Do I belong to those on the wrong side of history?

  Sylas continues, his voice urgent: “Keldor was a wise ruler. Together with Rhovan Ardelon, he tried to preserve peace in Elindros. The Solniws use the elements, while the Losniws have the ability to weave the past of a place or object to make its memories visible. But Velris and many other Losniws didn’t understand Keldor’s ideology. They realized that with the power of the Sonatius Mortaeda, the king could be overthrown, and the Losniws could take power. But Keldor never wanted that. After his death, the Solniws broke the alliance with the Losniws.”

  I can hardly hide my shock. “And what happened to Eldralith?” I ask urgently, crossing my arms.

  “Eldralith fled,” Zyar explains, sighing deeply. “But after a few years, she was caught. The king offered the Losniws forgiveness, on the condition that they swear eternal loyalty to him and use the power of the Sonatius Mortaeda only in the name of the royal family. The Losniws despised this proposal, but they knew that Eldralith’s death would be enough for them to lose control over the Sonatius Mortaeda. Only a few knew how the bond to this being was even possible. But since all witnesses either disappeared or were found dead, the Losniws did everything to keep Eldralith alive.”

  “Yet she died...” I speak with a heavy voice. “She must have suffered all those years under the tyranny of Velris Entium. At such a young age, she was probably exposed to all that and likely just wanted to help Keldor Entium—or perhaps even all of Elindros…”

  The two men look at me thoughtfully. While Sylas looks at me with deep sadness in his eyes, Zyar shows no emotion.

  “If Eldralith was caught…” I begin, “...they could have forced her to use the power of the Sonatius Mortaeda to overthrow the king!”

  “The primal being does not allow that,” Zyar explains with a knowing look. “It is part of the agreement that its powers cannot be used for such purposes. If the stories are to be believed, Velris didn’t trust Eldralith’s words. You must know that the vessel can grant someone access to its consciousness—the place where the Sonatius Mortaeda resides. He spoke with Velris and revealed that the Losniws would never sit on the throne. You know what happens when the agreement is broken—Elindros is threatened with destruction.”

  None of this makes sense. What motivation could the Sonatius Mortaeda, a being not bound to Elindros or any dimension, have to not unleash its power for pure chaos? Zyar himself has said that the suffering of all living things is its greatest joy. Something decisive must have happened, something only Eldralith could have known.

  “This just doesn’t make sense,” I whisper, my voice filled with disappointment as I shake my head. “Your history books… they don’t match the truth.”

  “That could indeed be the case,” Zyar says, shrugging. He hands me the thick book that had been resting on his lap the whole time. “In here, you can read about the past of Losnat,” he says calmly. “Well, at least the most important events.”

  I take the book, but its weight surprises me. Carefully, I run my finger along the leather cover and take a deep breath. A feeling of oppression spreads within me.

  “You told me that the Losniws can’t ascend to the throne because of their agreement with the Sonatius Mortaeda,” I remind Zyar of his own words, my heart beating faster. “How then can I be the rightful heir?”

  A look passes between Zyar and Sylas. They know something—something they’ve been holding back.

  “Eldralith did say that this was the only demand of the Sonatius Mortaeda…” Zyar begins cautiously, his voice like a whispering wind. “But we suspect that deep down, she knew that using its power for the throne would give the Losniws the perfect opportunity. A mistake that could plunge the entire kingdom into ruin.”

  “How could they have done that?” My eyebrows knit together, my distrust growing. “Eldralith could have simply used the power of the Sonatius to wipe out the Losniws.”

  Zyar looks to the sky, his face serious and closed off. “Even though her people betrayed their founder... there were still innocents among the Losniws. She couldn’t bring herself to destroy them all. That’s why she couldn’t unleash the power of the Sonatius Mortaeda.”

  “But do you have proof for this assumption?” My voice sharpens, a mixture of the desire for clarity and the smoldering doubt that lingers within me.

  Both of them shake their heads in silence. Nothing but speculation. No proof. That means my ascension to the throne could just as well bring ruin to Elindros.

  “And I’m supposed to become the new vessel based on mere assumption? The new queen of Elindros?” A quiet laugh escapes me, but it holds no trace of joy. It’s the despair that is slowly gnawing at my heart.

  All of this feels wrong, unreal, as if I were still trapped in a dream and would wake up any moment back in my room in the human world. Yet the pain that brought me here is too real to be just a dream.

  And now they want me to help overthrow the king? I don’t know if I can trust them. Not anymore. Perhaps they were never the good ones. Certainly not Zyar.