{"Magic isn't just about bending the rules, it's about breaking them."}
The morning began like most others, quiet, salt-sweet, and still half-lost in dreams. I had been tending the small patch of herbs outside my cottage, letting the sun warm my back while my hands worked the earth. The sea below whispered the same old lullaby it always had, steady and patient, as though it were trying to keep something buried beneath its voice.
I loved this kind of view and wished to have them every day of my life. My peace was interrupted by the sound of hooves. At first, I mistook them for traders or travelers heading up the coastal road, but the rhythm was too precise, too armored. When I stood and turned toward the sound, I saw three riders emerging from the trees, cloaked in silver, their mounts proud and silent. My stomach sank before I even saw the sigil as the one in front of a tall woman with a face like carved ice dismounted and approached. Her armor bore the crescent moon of Aeldoria, etched in moonstone, a symbol I hadn't seen in years, that I had walked away from.
She didn't bother with pleasantries."Caelen of the Drevina," she said, voice clipped and cold. "By command of Lord Ardanis of the Crescent Court, you are summoned to Aeldoria."
I stared at her, the words settling on me like chains, heavy and inevitable. Lord Ardanis. The only one in the realm with the power or the arrogance to drag me back to Aeldoria.
"I've been gone a long time," I said, quieter than I meant to.
"Time doesn't erase blood," she replied. "Nor the debt it carries."
There it was the truth, spoken like a blade drawn slowly. I hadn't set foot in the Fae lands since I left their courts behind, since I turned my back on politics laced with poison and smiles. But the magic never let go and Ardanis was the kind who remembered every piece on the board, even the ones that refused to play.
I crossed my arms, grounding myself in the smell of earth and sea. "Why now?"
The guard's expression didn't flicker. "He did not say. Only that the balance has shifted, and your presence is required."
I wanted to drag this out, but then I knew that they would never let me and hence I wiped the dirt from my hands and nodded once. "Then let's go."
Crossing the threshold into Aeldoria was like stepping into a memory I wasn't ready to relive. The boundary tore open with the usual shimmering silver light bleeding into the air like moonlight seen through water. The Fae realm never welcomed anyone, it claimed. As soon as we stepped through the veil, the world shifted. The colors deepened, sounds sharpened. Even the wind seemed more alive here, curling with purpose as it moved through the trees.
I felt the magic before I saw anything. It pressed against my skin like heat from a forge, old and familiar, like a weight I'd long ago grown used to carrying. I inhaled instinctively and regretted it. The scent of Aeldoria filled my lungs: starlight, night-blooming flowers, cold stone, and that strange sweetness that never quite faded from the air. It was intoxicating, and it made my teeth ache.
The forest we entered was called Vaelar's Hollow, a borderland kept in perpetual twilight. Trees with silver-veined bark arched overhead like cathedral columns, their leaves glowing faintly with captured light.
The silence here wasn't peace, It was expected, and the guards didn't speak. They didn't need to, and I followed them along the moss-carved path in silence, my boots barely making a sound. Every step I took brought back the echo of another life, another version of me. The Caelen who used to belong here, the one who knew how to navigate courts with double-edged smiles, who could bend his voice like wind around the truth.
I hated that version of myself. But I hated how easily I remembered him more. As we emerged from the hollow, the spires of the Fae Crescent Court came into view. Moonstone towers climbed like fangs into the sky, surrounded by gardens that never wilted and pools that reflected more than just light. The palace wasn't built; it had grown from the land, shaped by old magic and older will. It pulsed faintly with life, the very stones humming with power.
Two guards at the arched gate stepped aside as we approached, their expressions unreadable beneath polished helms. I kept my head high, though my stomach had turned to iron. I had been summoned before, long ago. But this felt different. Inside, the Court was exactly as I remembered it elegant, cold, and terrifying.
Fae nobles whispered as I passed, and their eyes followed me, all frost and curiosity, like foxes watching a wounded bird. Most of them wore silk and starlight, their bodies gleaming with runes and glamour. I was a strange sight in comparison to travel-worn leathers, a mortal's gait, hair tousled by sea wind. I didn't belong here and never had. But Lord Ardanis did not summon people for sentiment. He summoned them for a purpose.
We reached the Moonspire Hall, the heart of the palace. Its floor was carved from mirror-stone, the walls laced with vines of living crystal. And on the throne of bone-white marble and woven silver sat the man I had hoped never to see again. Lord Ardanis still looked impossibly young, though his eyes were ancient. Moonlight lived in his hair, and stars flickered in the folds of his silver cloak. His presence filled the room like a spell you didn't know you were under until it was too late.
"Caelen," he said, voice like frost spreading over still water, and I bowed stiffly, every instinct telling me not to speak first. "You took your time," he continued, rising from the throne. "But I suppose we all return eventually. Even the prodigal."
I met his gaze and saw no warmth there, only calculation. "Why did you call me back?" I asked.
His smile didn't reach his eyes. " Can you tell me what you were doing at the Sanctuary? Something is stirring in the sea, and I have a feeling that you are the centre of it."
" What do you mean?" I raised my eyebrow.
" What the fuck did you do ?" He raised his voice.