My mind was a master of illusions — weaving desires for things that could never be mine.
It showed me my deepest yearnings, tangled with every limitation I carried. A cruel reminder of who I was… and who I could never become.
Memories, though painful, were my only treasures.
And so, despite the ache, I always returned to them.
Once more, I let myself drift back —
to the night I met him.
The night she met him.
Of course, she — the perfect, innocent, gracious Aldara Laurence.
That night, Aldara had been convinced by her parents to attend an event she knew nothing about. Upon arriving, she was swallowed by the splendor of a place that looked as if it had been painted straight out of a dream.
She had expected an old theater.
Instead, she found herself standing in a palace of light.
The ballroom glittered under crystal chandeliers. Dresses shimmered like starlight, jewels like constellations.
And there she was — wearing the first dress she had found in her wardrobe.
Soon, the swirl of laughter and movement pulled her away from her parents.
Every turn, every attempt to find them only tangled her deeper in the waltzing maze. She rose on her toes, trying to see over the crowd, but her petite frame betrayed her.
And just when fear began to whisper in her chest—
She heard it.
A melody.
Soft. Haunting. Enchanting.
It called to her like a forgotten memory.
Before she realized it, her feet were already moving, gliding toward that sound. The crowd parted as if the music itself guided her path.
When she finally saw him, everything else fell away.
A man dressed in black, his back turned to her. His fingers moved gracefully over the piano keys, each note spilling like liquid silk.
Aldara approached, curiosity winning over caution.
"Do you need something?"
His voice was calm, deep, and impossibly distant.
The music faded, but she stood frozen.
"That melody…" she whispered. "Can you teach me how to play it?"
He turned. Surprise flickered in his eyes — and for one heartbeat, the world stilled.
Then, silently, he motioned for her to sit beside him.
His hands guided hers over the keys — patient, precise, almost tender. Together, they shaped the melody she had followed, note by trembling note. Yet even when the song ended, something bound her there — invisible, unbreakable.
"You're not happy," she said suddenly, with the boldness only a child could have.
"My parents say only lonely people are like that."
He blinked, half amused, half wounded.
"Is that so?" he murmured, his gaze flicking upward — toward the balcony, where a couple stood frozen, pale with fear.
They knew.
If their beloved daughter displeased him, no power in the world could save her.
"I don't want to go," she whispered, trembling. "You need me."
Aldara was born from an ancient line of Empaths — souls who could feel the essence of others' hearts.
In that moment, through the language of music, her gift awakened.
She felt him.
And that alone was a miracle.
Perhaps that was why he noticed her.
"Do you know how to dance?" he asked.
She shook her head shyly.
He smiled faintly, took her hand, and led her to the center of the room.
The crowd parted — holding their breath as if the stars themselves were watching.
Aldara stepped onto his feet, and together, they began to move.
Time slowed.
As they danced, she spoke of her life — small joys, simple dreams, gentle laughter.
He listened, his eyes heavy with memories older than sorrow.
When she asked about him, his answers were brief — pieces of a past stitched with loss and blood.
She longed to comfort him. To stay.
But deep down, she knew she couldn't.
"I hope you find what you're looking for," she whispered.
"I need you to do something for me," he said quietly.
Though she didn't understand, she sensed no malice — only inevitability.
"Of course," she said softly. "If I can… I will."
Gratitude shimmered in his gaze.
Then — the world dissolved into light.
And in that blinding radiance, she remembered.
Who he was.
Why he was there.
His name echoed through her — as if she had always known.
Elladan.
How could she have forgotten?
That night's celebration was for him — the savior of her people, the hero who had given them a second chance at life.
And by her own will…
Aldara allowed another to be born in her image.
Thus, I came into being.
I remember the ache — the yearning to be the one who would walk beside Elladan for all eternity.
Yet even then, I wondered… was that desire truly mine?
Or hers?
Power and knowledge surged through me like a tide of stars — intoxicating, divine.
I spoke languages I had never learned. I bent the air with a thought.
For one fleeting instant, I was limitless.
And then… I remembered.
None of it was mine.
When I opened my eyes, she stood before me — radiant, innocent, everything I was not.
Her gaze shimmered with wonder. With joy.
And my first instinct upon awakening — was to change.
To become older, wiser. To become someone worthy of him.
"Who are you?" she asked, already knowing.
I needed a name. Something truly my own.
Through the bond I shared with my master, I perceived his true name — and from it, I shaped mine.
My true name was Adsiltia.
But the name I chose for the world to know… was Isolda.
"As for a family name…" I hesitated. Surnames belonged to legacies, and I had none.
"You are free to choose," Elladan's voice whispered within my mind.
"My name is Isolda," I said. "It's an honor to meet you, Aldara Laurence."
Her eyes glistened — relief and sorrow entwined. As if she already sensed the farewell in our meeting.
"I don't want to say goodbye," she murmured.
"It's not goodbye," I promised softly. "We'll see each other again."
Like Aldara, I could not speak empty words.
When Elladan declared that the time had come, I followed without hesitation.
Hand in hand, we stepped into the rift — a shimmering tear in the fabric of existence.
Beyond it lay the unknown.
But I felt no fear.
As long as Elladan was beside me…
I could face any darkness.
When we vanished from Aldara's sight, time began to move again in her world —
and mine began anew.