The gates of Vaedran Keep rose before me like the jaws of a sleeping beast vast, carved obsidian with silver veins pulsing faintly beneath its surface. The crest of the royal house, a sun veiled by thorns, loomed above the archway, casting jagged shadows on the stone.
Everything about this place was precise. Polished. Dangerous.
A dozen guards in mirrored armor flanked the entrance, halberds crossed, faces obscured beneath dark helms. The air smelled of steel and wind, high mountain air, clean and sharp.
I paused just before the threshold, feeling something shift inside me. Not fear exactly. Not awe either. Something quieter. Like a warning.
Cael glanced back at me. "Stay close. Don't speak unless spoken to."
"Are they really that uptight?"
"Yes. And in your case, distrustful."
He handed the disc back to me, still warm. "Keep it hidden unless you want to be studied like a magical artifact."
I slipped it inside my shirt.
The gates creaked open. No guards moved them they opened on their own, heavy slabs pulled by silent magic. Light from the inner halls spilled out, soft, golden, and completely unlike the cold grandeur of the outer walls.
Inside, Vaedran Keep felt alive.
Torches didn't flicker with flame but glowed with floating orbs that pulsed like breath. The walls were pale stone, trimmed with silver inlay and intricate murals depicting ancient battles, divine beasts, and crowned rulers whose eyes seemed to follow me as I passed.
We walked through the entrance hall and into a vaulted corridor. Everything was too quiet. No chatter, no footsteps, just the whisper of magic humming low beneath the marble floor.
At the end of the hall, a towering set of doors stood closed, bound by silver runes that shifted as we approached.
Two guards stepped forward.
"One guest," one said flatly, eyeing me.
"By order of the Court Seer," Cael responded. "Prophetic bearer."
They hesitated, then nodded.
The doors opened with a slow hiss.
Beyond them, a high chamber stretched wide and hollow, like a cathedral turned sideways. Long windows lined one wall, revealing Eldrath's upper terraces and the distant shimmer of the moons. At the center stood a dais, and on it…him.
Crown Prince Eryndor Valenhart.
He stood tall and still as a statue. Jet-black hair fell just below his jaw, tucked behind one ear, and his armor, if it could be called that was a dark, tailored coat threaded with silver arcs like constellations. His eyes… they were the first thing I noticed.
Cold. Metallic. Violet-gray, like thunderclouds on the edge of collapse.
He didn't move as we entered. Just watched.
Cael stepped forward, bowed briefly. "Your Highness. The Dreamer has arrived, as foretold."
Eryndor's gaze shifted to me, and I swear the temperature in the room dropped.
"This is him?" His voice was low. Controlled. Unimpressed.
Cael nodded.
He descended the dais slowly, each footstep echoing across the stone. I stood my ground, but I could feel my heart hammering beneath my chest.
When he stopped a few paces from me, he studied me as if trying to see past my skin, past my flesh, into the truth of what I was.
"You don't kneel," he said at last.
"No one asked me to," I replied.
His jaw tightened.
"Name," he demanded.
"Minjae."
"No surname?"
"Not one that matters here."
A flicker of something, irritation? interest?crossed his expression.
"You appear in our land without origin, holding a relic thought lost to time, and carry a dream that has disturbed every seer in Eldrath," he said. "And yet, you speak like a man who doesn't grasp the gravity of what he is."
I met his gaze. "Because I don't. I didn't ask for any of this."
Silence.
Cael shot me a warning glance, but I didn't look away from the Prince.
Eventually, Eryndor stepped back. "You will be questioned by the High Circle. Until then, you are not to leave the inner court."
"Am I a guest," I asked, "or a prisoner?"
He turned without answering and walked back up the dais.
Just before reaching the top, he paused.
"You're not from here. That much is clear. But Elyndra doesn't pull people through the Veil without purpose. And purpose," he said without looking back, "can be dangerous in the wrong hands."
Then he vanished behind a curtain of light that shimmered like a mirror breaking.
—
Outside the chamber, I exhaled sharply.
Cael walked beside me in silence for several steps before muttering, "That could've gone worse."
"He hates me."
"He doesn't hate you. Not yet."
"Then what was that?"
"That," Cael said, "was caution. And fear."
I blinked. "He's afraid of me?"
"He's afraid of what your presence means. The last time a dreamer appeared in Eldrath, it led to war. And your arrival aligns too closely with the resurgence of something… ancient."
"Care to elaborate?"
"Not in a hallway monitored by three enchantments."
—
We were shown to a guest suite in the eastern wing, if 'guest' meant a room grander than any hotel I'd seen back home.
Silver-lined drapes, glowing hearth, a bed big enough for five people. A balcony overlooked the whole eastern valley, where violet skies bled into distant mountains.
Still no Wi-Fi.
Still no signal.
Still no way home.
I stood on the balcony long after Cael left, staring out at a world I didn't understand, trying to process the storm behind those violet eyes.
Prince Eryndor had looked at me like I didn't belong.
The worst part?
He was right.
—
The morning after my arrival in Caelion Keep, I woke to the sound of silence so complete it felt unnatural.
No birdsong. No distant horns. Just the faint hum of magic woven into the walls.
I sat up in the massive bed, tangled in linens finer than anything I'd touched back home. The room was dim, lit only by the soft pulsing glow of lanterns embedded in the corners, casting gentle shadows like breathing stars.
I still hadn't processed the full weight of where I was. Not really.
A palace in another world. A world where moons floated in strange patterns and people bowed to a prince who looked like he'd stepped from a dream... or a nightmare.
I dragged a hand down my face. Prince Eryndor. His name alone made something in my chest twist, though I wasn't sure if it was unease or fascination.
He hadn't welcomed me. Hadn't offered comfort or curiosity. Just cold calculation. Like I was a threat wrapped in unfamiliar skin. And I couldn't blame him, not entirely.
I was a stranger to this world and worse, someone apparently tied to a prophecy.
Still, I couldn't forget the moment our eyes locked.
He had stared at me not with simple suspicion, but with something more complex, like a question he couldn't name, a discomfort he didn't want to admit.
And gods, those eyes. Cold, violet-gray like distant thunderclouds, sharp enough to cut and yet… something behind them burned. Something he was trying hard to bury.
I sighed, pushing out of bed.
A fresh tunic and soft trousers had been folded on the nearby seat, subtly embroidered with the Crown's symbol. I dressed, unsure whether it was hospitality or preparation for being paraded like a foreign artifact.
The room's door opened before I could knock.
Cael stood there with his usual clipped expression, quill and scrolls at the ready.
"You're summoned."
My heart jumped. "Already?"
He shook his head. "Not to the Circle. They're still arguing over whether you're a symbol or an omen. You're summoned to the Inner Gardens. Prince Eryndor won't be there."
I relaxed slightly, though not entirely.
"Why the gardens?"
He smirked faintly. "They want to see how you respond to Aurenholt's magic."
—
The Inner Gardens were nothing like any garden I'd seen. Not in Seoul. Not in books.
Sunlight slanted in from a sky dome enchanted with its own weather cycle. The air smelled of rain and something sweet, like honey. Trees with silvery bark twisted around columns, their leaves shimmering between blue and deep green. A stream cut through the center, flowing over polished stones that whispered in musical tones as the water touched them.
A woman waited for us beneath a flowering archway, her robes layered in shimmering cloth that danced like water. Her eyes glowed faintly violet.
"I am Isareth," she said. "The Court Arcanist. You'll walk with me."
I followed her quietly, Cael trailing a few steps behind.
"Elyndra speaks through many things," she said as we walked. "Wind, water, fire, dream. But rarely through flesh."
"You think I'm a mouthpiece?"
"I think you're dangerous."
I blinked. "You don't even know me."
She stopped, turning sharply. "That's exactly why you're dangerous."
There was no malice in her voice. Just conviction.
"You were not born of this world, yet the sacred disc answered to your touch. That should not be possible. Which means the Veil has thinned... and something wants you here."
She led me deeper into the garden, toward a tree with bark like glass. Hanging from its branches were orbs of light that pulsed softly.
"Touch it," she said.
"Why?"
"To see if Elyndra speaks."
I hesitated, then reached out.
The moment my fingers brushed the bark, something shifted behind my eyes. I wasn't in the garden anymore.
I stood on a cliff at dusk. Below me, flames engulfed a city. Eldrath? I wasn't sure. Screams echoed in the distance. And above it all stood a figure, tall, cloaked in shadow, a crown of thorns burning on his head. He turned slowly.
Eyes like silver fire locked with mine.
And then gone.
I gasped, stumbling back.
Isareth caught me.
"Something is awakening," she said quietly. "And you are tethered to it."
—
Later that evening, back in my chamber, I sat at the balcony with a cup of something warm and sweet, trying to shake off the vision.
Fire. Crown. Eyes of silver.
What the hell was I tangled in?
I couldn't help but think of Eryndor. How guarded he had been. How tense. Had he seen visions like this? Was that why he distrusted me so fiercely?
And if I was part of a prophesy…what role did he play?
I leaned against the railing, staring out at the flickering city lights of Eldrath. Distant bells chimed the ninth hour.
Somewhere in that fortress, the prince was probably pouring over war reports or ancient scrolls, convinced I was the harbinger of doom.
I scoffed quietly.
If only he knew I was once just a guy cataloguing old coins and dusting exhibits.
But now?
Now I wasn't sure who I was anymore.
The air shifted, a breeze curling through the balcony, carrying with it a faint scent of lavender and something darker…ash?
I turned sharply.
No one was there.
Just shadows curling against the stone like breath.
A whisper echoed faintly in my ear: "Watcher between worlds…"
I stepped back inside and shut the balcony doors, heart racing.
Even in the beauty of this palace, something stirred beneath the surface. Something old. Watching.
Waiting.
And I was no longer sure it was the Prince I needed to fear.