[Next day: Morning]
[Ace's POV]
The world was white—not bright, but empty. No sky, no ground, no sound. Just a vast, silent expanse that pressed against my skin like static. I blinked, trying to make sense of where I was. Then, I saw a man walking ahead of me. His figure was familiar, but I couldn't quite place him.
"Wait!" I called out, my voice echoing in the emptiness. I started to run after him, my footsteps silent against the white expanse.
Suddenly, the scenery shifted. The void melted away, replaced by the dense foliage of a forest. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, and the faint sound of a crying baby reached my ears. My heart clenched at the sound, a strange pull drawing me toward it.
The man ahead of me followed the sound, his steps quickening. I trailed behind him, my pulse quickening as we approached a large tree. Behind it, nestled in a basket, was a crying baby. The sight sent a jolt through me.
My head began to throb, a sharp pain shooting through my temples. I glanced to my side and saw my wolf, Fenrir, standing beside me. His silver fur glistened in the dappled moonlight filtering through the trees.
"This is the part we buried," Fenrir said, his voice a low rumble. "The part that was taken from us."
Lost memory? I frowned, trying to piece together what was happening. I turned back to the man, and as he knelt beside the baby, I finally saw his face clearly. It was me—but from 20 years ago.
The man—my younger self—gently picked up the baby from the basket. As he did, a glowing red string began to form, connecting him to the baby. My breath hitched as I realized what I was witnessing.
Wait… that baby looks familiar. Blond hair, red eyes… Ovelia!
"So that's why," I breathed, the words escaping like a confession. "That's why you never stopped looking. I wasn't choosing Ovelia—I was remembering her." I murmured, the realization sinking in. "That's why you kept rejecting Eliana."
Fenrir chuckled softly, his silver eyes glinting with amusement. "Hmm, yes. That's why, when we saw her at Timberline Village during the sacrifice, she drew us in like a moth to a flame."
The man—my younger self—gently rocked the baby in his arms, and her cries subsided. She began to laugh, her tiny hands reaching up toward his face. Her red eyes glowed faintly, and a voice, soft but commanding, emanated from her.
"Run. Save her. Don't let her fall into the hands of the hunters."
A sense of danger prickled at the edges of my consciousness. I turned and saw a group of humans approaching in the distance. My younger self quickly placed the baby back in the basket and began to run, clutching it tightly. I followed him, my heart pounding as we reached a river.
Wait, this river… it's familiar. This is where I first saw Ovelia during the human sacrifice, collecting water.
With hurried but careful movements, the younger me hid the basket behind a tree near the river. At that moment, the baby's red eyes glowed again, and a soft, melodic chant began to spill from her lips.
"By the moon's light and the star's deep glow, I call upon the night to hide what we know. Let this memory slip like mist from the clay, and fade with the dawn of a new day."
Suddenly, I woke up, my head throbbing with pain. I sat up in bed, my breathing ragged as the dream.
So, that's the memory I forgot. Someone inside Ovelia cast a spell on me. But why does it want me to forget that memory?
I clenched my fists, frustration bubbling up inside me. Who is inside her? What is she carrying that even my wolf cannot name?
Fenrir growled softly in my mind, his irritation mirroring my own.
I don't think Ovelia knows that there is someone or something inside her. Back then, she was just a baby. Talking to her about this now would be pointless. I just need to keep an eye on her.
A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. "Sir Ace, the Alpha King has summoned you to the throne room," a maid's voice called from the other side. I heard her footsteps retreating as she left.
I got out of bed, dressed quickly, and made my way to the throne room, my mind still reeling from the memory.
•Throne Room•
As I entered the throne room, I saw my father, Alpha King Raymond, seated on his throne, his expression stern. Ray was kneeling before him, his head bowed. I walked over and knelt beside Ray, my heart heavy with anticipation.
Suddenly, my father's personal carrier falcon, Milo, landed on my shoulder, his talons gripping lightly. I reached up to steady him and noticed the small tube tied to his leg.
"Ace," my father's voice commanded. "Read the dispatch from Milo."
"Yes, Your Majesty." I carefully untied the tube and extracted the single scroll within. Unfurling it, I read the precise, formal script aloud. "To his Highness, Prince Ace Draven. This confirms the presence of bandit activity in the vicinity of Thunoa Village. A number of the culprits have been apprehended by local militia. Should you still deem reinforcements necessary, I advise a small, tactical force. A large contingent would be an unnecessary provocation and a waste of resources. Respectfully, Chief Gareth of Thunoa." I paused, noting the official wax seal pressed at the bottom—a stylized sheaf of wheat. "It bears the village seal," I added before carefully rerolling the scroll and retying it to Milo's leg. The falcon shifted, then launched himself back toward his perch.
So, the letter I sent to Thunoa Village finally received a reply.
"Ray. Ace." Our father's voice drew our attention back to him. "Your mission is clear. You will depart for Thunoa Village today. Your objectives: capture any remaining bandits, recover all stolen goods, and ensure their return. This must be concluded before the Lantern Festival. The kingdom's supply lines cannot remain vulnerable."
"Yes, Your Majesty," we answered in unison, our voices overlapping in the vast space.
"There is more," he continued, and his gaze, heavy with kingly intent, settled squarely on me. "You will take Ovelia and her attendant, Ann, with you."
A flicker of surprise, quickly masked. Ray remained still beside me.
"My informants in Timberline Village have provided a full report. Your mate was not raised," our father said, his voice dropping to a low, grim register. "She was used. Beaten. Starved. Locked away. She was not a child—she was a tool."
A white-hot fury, sudden and pure, flashed through my veins. Those bruises… the flinch in her eyes… It wasn't just discipline. It was cruelty. My wolf stirred, a silent snarl building in our shared consciousness.
"Furthermore," our father went on, "she has never set foot beyond the borders of Timberline Village. Her world is a cage of fear and labor. It is no foundation for a queen. You will show her the world. Broaden her perspective. Let her see what she will one day help to rule. And you will protect her. This is not a request; it is an order. Her safety is paramount."
So. It begins today. The promise I made to her—to show her the world beyond these walls—would be fulfilled, albeit under the banner of duty. "Yes, Your Majesty," I said, bowing my head, the responsibility settling on my shoulders like a mantle.
Our father's gaze shifted to Ray. "Ray, on this mission, you will defer to Ace's tactical command. He has studied the reports; he knows the terrain." A pause—heavy, deliberate. "But if the situation deteriorates beyond salvage, your priority shifts. You will secure the retreat of Ace, Ovelia, and Ann. Extract them. At all costs." His voice dropped to something colder, harder. "Understood?"
Ray didn't hesitate. "Understood, Your Majesty." His voice was steady, unwavering—the tone of a knight accepting orders he would follow without question.
Our father waved his hand, a gesture of finality. "You are dismissed."
We rose, the formal audience concluded. The walk from the dais felt longer than the approach. Ray fell into step beside me as we exited the throne room, the great doors closing behind us with a soft, definitive thud.
The cooler air of the corridor was a relief. I drew a deep breath, the scent of old stone and polish clearing my head. Plans were already crystallizing: routes, contingencies, the best way to position Ann as an unobtrusive but ever-vigilant shield. Ray glanced at me, his expression typically inscrutable, but I saw the slight tightening around his eyes—the shared understanding of the weight we now carried, and the unique vulnerability we were tasked to guard.
•Ovelia's Room•
[Ovelia's POV]
I had just finished my shower, the steam still lingering in the air, wrapping the room in a warm, humid embrace. The water had been soothing, but my mind was anything but calm. Since I learned the truth about my real parents and Lady Firera being sealed inside me, my dreams had stopped.
I opened the window, letting the crisp morning air flood the room. The sweet melodies of birdsong filled the space, a beautiful symphony that lifted my spirits, if only for a moment. The sunlight streamed in, casting golden rays across the floor, and I took a deep breath, trying to steady my thoughts.
Suddenly, a knock at the door pulled me from my reverie. I turned to see Ann standing there, her usual warm smile on her face.
"Lady Ovelia, it's time to treat your wounds and bruises," she said, her voice firm yet gentle, carrying the tone of someone who cared deeply.
I smiled back, feeling a familiar warmth spread through me, and perched on the edge of the bed. Ann approached, sitting beside me as she began to carefully unwrap the bandage from my left arm. Her movements were precise, her touch light but reassuring.
"Ovelia, your arm is healing nicely. In about a week, it should just be a scar," Ann remarked, her eyes scanning the wound with a practiced gaze.
I nodded, though my mind wandered. I looked at the fading bruises. Was this because of Lady Firera? The thought should have terrified me, but instead, it felt... reassuring.
"Does it still hurt?" Ann asked, her voice soft with concern.
"Just a little," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. I hesitated for a moment, then decided to ask the question that had been lingering in my mind. "Ann," I said, my voice faltering. I paused, twisting the edge of the blanket in my fingers. "Can I ask you something—something personal?"
"Of course," she replied without looking up, her concentration on smoothing a fresh layer of herbal salve over the closed wounds. The ointment was cool and smelled of comfrey and mint.
The question had been perched on my tongue for days. I took a careful breath. "I… I was wondering about your mate." The words were out, quiet but clear.
Ann's hands stilled completely. The sudden cessation of movement was more shocking than a gasp. She didn't look up, but I saw the color drain from her knuckles where she gripped the salve jar. A wave of immediate regret washed over me, cold and sickening.
"I'm so sorry," I stammered, my voice small. "You showed me that mark on your neck before, and I just… I was curious. It was thoughtless of me."
Ann was silent for a long moment. Then, very quietly, she said, "He passed away. Seven years ago." Her voice caught on the word passed. "There was no cure. No spell. Nothing we could do."
The sadness in her voice was a palpable chill in the sun-warmed room. I felt like an intruder, a clumsy child who had kicked over a sacred shrine. "I'm so sorry," I repeated, the words utterly inadequate. I dropped my gaze to my lap, shame heating my face.
"Please, do not distress yourself," Ann said, and her hand came to rest lightly over mine. Her touch was warm, forgiving. "The pain doesn't go away," Ann said, her voice steady. "You just get used to the weight. One day, you realize you've been carrying it so long, you forgot it wasn't always there." She tried to smile again, and this time it reached her eyes, though they glistened with unshed tears. My regret deepened.
"Many of the maids here… we share similar stories," she continued, her voice gaining a quiet strength. "Lost partners, lost families. His Majesty, Alpha King Raymond… he gave us a place. A purpose. We are grateful for it."
She gave my hand a gentle squeeze before turning her attention back to her task. "Now, let me see your back." She moved behind me, lifting the back of my dress with practiced modesty. The cool air touched my skin as she carefully peeled away the large bandage. "Oh!" Her exclamation was one of pure delight. "The bruising… it's still there, but it has faded so much! The swelling is nearly gone."
"Yes," I said, a genuine smile breaking through my remorse. "I noticed in the bath. So many of the marks are just… gone. I might actually be able to wear a dress without sleeves soon." The idea felt like a small, hard-won victory, a reclaiming of my own body.
"You heal with remarkable speed," Ann said, admiration coloring her tone. You're the most remarkable human I've ever known."
Human? I thought, a flicker of doubt crossing my mind. Why am I starting to doubt that I'm really human? Of course, I'm a human... with a goddess sealed inside of me.
Suddenly, the door swung open, and my heart raced as a man entered, his expression serious. He wore merchant attire and glasses. He looked familiar, and I stared at him—Ace. I almost didn't recognize him in such a different outfit.
[Ace's POV]
"Good morning, Sir Ace," Ann said, instantly rising to her feet and dipping into a respectful curtsey.
I offered her a brief nod, my attention captured by Ovelia. She was watching me with those wide, captivating red eyes, filled with open curiosity. Is this woman truly just a human? The question was a constant hum in my mind now. I walked over and sat on the bed beside her.
"Ann, Ovelia needs to look like she's from a village. You should change as well, something practical. We're leaving for Thunoa Village," I instructed, my tone leaving no room for debate.
Ann went to the large wardrobe and opened it, scanning the contents—gowns of silk, dresses of velvet. "Sir Ace, Lady Ovelia possesses no village attire. I will need to fetch something suitable from the servants' storage," she said pragmatically.
"Make it quick," I said.
She glanced between us, and for a moment, something flickered across her face—a quick, encouraging grin, paired with a subtle 'fighting' gesture of her fist. Then she slipped out of the room before I could respond.
The door clicked shut behind her.
The atmosphere shifted immediately—thicker, heavier. Ann had completely misread the situation. It was just the two of us now, in the quiet she had left behind. I could feel Ovelia's gaze on me—questioning, wary.
A wave of exhaustion—mental and physical—crashed over me. The sleepless night of planning, the weight of the recovered memory, the enormity of the mission ahead—it all pressed down at once. I crossed the room and sat beside her, and almost without conscious thought, I let my head drop, resting my forehead against the curve of her shoulder. She was warm. Solid. An anchor in a sea of uncertainty.
"Ace?" Her voice was soft, laced with surprise, but she didn't pull away.
"Please," I murmured, my words muffled against her shoulder. "Just for a moment. I need… I need to feel something still."
"Okay." I heard the shy confusion in her voice, but she didn't move away.
She smelled of soap and the faint floral scent of the palace bath oils. Undeniably human. Not the ozone-and-herb scent of a witch, like my mother. So why did my instincts scream that there was so much more to her?
I had only slept for an hour after locating the bandits' hideout. My eyes felt heavy, and I let them close, letting the fatigue wash over me in slow, heavy waves.
[Firera's POV]
That werewolf prince. He is young, yet he carries himself like a man who has already earned his crown. He does not know what he carries—or what he holds.
Twenty years ago, I threaded the forgetting spell into the weave of his memory—layer by layer, like silk over bone. He was a child. She was an infant. It was not their time.
Yet, the threads of fate are stubborn. They found their way back to each other, drawn by the bond even amnesia could not fully sever. Though the path has been steeped in pain for her. My failure rankles.
The spell is broken now. I felt its final threads snap like rotten sutures. And yet…he does not speak to her of the spell. He does not ask her what she carries. He treats her like a vessel—a political asset wrapped in silk. He does not see her.
My purpose is clear—safeguard Ovelia; guide her to become the bridge, the harmonizer between humans, werewolves, witches, and elves. But this existence… to be trapped in my own dimension, observing her life through a window… it is a torment of pure inertia. I have no desire to speak with her. This frustration is a fire with no vent, burning slowly. It is all so profoundly tiresome.
[Ovelia's POV]
Ace's head rested on my shoulder, his weight gentle but grounding. I could sense his exhaustion, the way his breathing slowed and deepened. Before I knew it, he had drifted into a light sleep, his warmth seeping into me. The quiet of the room was comforting.
Minutes later, the door creaked open, and Ann stepped in, her smile bright and knowing. My cheeks flushed instantly, and my heart raced as I realized how this must look.
"No, Ann, it's not what you think!" I exclaimed, my voice a little too high-pitched, my hands flailing slightly in protest.
Ace stirred awake beside me, lifting his head from my shoulder. He blinked a few times, his eyes clearing as he focused on Ann.
"We only have a little time left," Ace said, his voice calm but firm. "Ovelia, please start changing your clothes."
I stood up from the bed, feeling a mix of relief and nervousness. "Ann, is it okay if I grab my clothes and change in the bathroom?" I asked, hoping to avoid any further embarrassment.
"No," Ace said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You'll change here. There is no need for modesty between us. I have seen you at your most vulnerable. Ann has tended to you. This is no different."
His bluntness made the heat in my face burn hotter. Ann, bless her, moved forward without a hint of awkwardness, her hands gentle as she began to help me out of my dress.
Caught, I shot a pleading look at Ace, but he was simply… watching. Studying me. It wasn't a leer; it was an assessment, intense and searching, as if he were trying to see past my skin, past my bones.
"D-Don't stare like that," I managed, my voice trembling with a mix of embarrassment and something else—a strange, exposed feeling.
"Your bruises," he observed, his gaze clinical as it swept over my arms and collarbone. "They've faded significantly. Only the deeper ones on your back and arms remain. For a human, your rate of healing is… remarkable." His words mirrored Ann's earlier praise, but his tone held a thoughtful, probing edge.
I looked at Ann, who was simply smiling, her hands busy helping me into my new outfit. She slipped a pair of vibrant orange boots onto my feet, and I sat down, letting her work. When I glanced in the mirror, I couldn't help but admire how I looked: a short-sleeved orange top paired with a teal skirt adorned with decorative orange and gold patterns at the hem.
"Excellent choice, Ann. It fits her perfectly," Ace remarked, his voice holding a note of genuine approval. A simple pleasure, warm and bright, bloomed in my chest.
"My pleasure, Sir Ace," Ann chirped, looking pleased with herself.
As Ann began to gather my hair into a simple, practical braid, she paused. "Sir Ace, if I may… what is our purpose in Thunoa Village?"
"To apprehend a pack of werewolf bandits," I explained, my tone turning grim. "They've been targeting merchant caravans and supply wagons. It's why vital goods have been delayed in reaching the kingdom."
In the mirror's reflection, I saw Ann's smile vanish. Her brow furrowed, lines of deep concern etching themselves around her eyes. "But… why must Lady Ovelia be involved? Forgive me, Sir, but the mission sounds perilous. It is no place for her."
I turned from the mirror to face Ace directly. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, and his expression was grave, his jaw set.
"Because the Alpha King commands it," he said, his voice leaving no room for appeal. "He wishes for Ovelia to see the kingdom she will one day help to rule. To understand its people and its problems. To be prepared for her future as its Queen."
A queen? The thought of ruling... was overwhelming. It made me want to run away again, just as I had from Timberline Village. Some patterns were hard to break.
"Ovelia," Ace said, and his voice softened, his smile returning—the one that could temporarily silence my fears. "This mission means travel. We will pass through towns, see different lands. And… didn't you wish to see what lies beyond the palace walls?"
He hadn't forgotten. "Yes," I said, and the word was filled with a hope that momentarily overshadowed the dread.
"Ann, your concern is noted, and it speaks well of you," Ace continued, his tone becoming one of command. "That is precisely why you are essential. On this mission, your primary duty is not as a maid. It is as Ovelia's personal guard. Your loyalty is to her safety, above all else."
Ann's posture straightened, her expression shifting from worry to solemn resolve. "Understood, Sir Ace. It will be my honor." She gave my braid a final, firm tie. "There. All finished, my lady."
"Wow, Ann! Thank you! Your hands are truly magical; you fixed my hair perfectly!" I exclaimed, my heart light with happiness.
"You're always welcome, my Lady," Ann responded warmly, her smile infectious.
Ann moved to a cabinet and retrieved a small makeup kit, but Ace's voice stopped her.
"Leave it, Ann. No paints or powders. She needs no artifice." His eyes met mine in the mirror. "She is perfectly herself as she is."
I glanced at Ace, seeing that warm smile, and felt a blush creep across my cheeks. Ann leaned closer to me, her voice a playful whisper. "Your face is red, my lady. I think it's love making you blush."
I covered my face with my hands, feeling utterly embarrassed. "Ann, please stop teasing me," I protested, though I couldn't help but chuckle.
I heard Ann chuckle softly, clearly enjoying my reaction.
"Sir Ace, Lady Ovelia," Ann said, turning to Ace with a bright grin, "I'm going to change my clothes and grab the food we'll take on the mission."
"That's a great idea," Ace replied, nodding. "We don't have time for breakfast now. Let's meet at the Palace Entrance; that's where the wagon will be."
I smiled at Ann, and she returned the gesture before stepping out of the room. As she left, a sudden thought invaded my mind.
"Ace," I said, my voice steady. "Before we leave, I need to try speaking to Wind—at the forest entrance. I don't know if it will answer, but I need to try."
Ace's expression shifted instantly. Guarded concern hardened his features. "Talk to the wind? I don't know what you intend, but you will not go alone. I will accompany you," he stated, his tone brooking no argument.
"Thank you, Ace," I replied, my pulse quickening, a smile breaking across my face.
We both stood and made our way toward the garden.
•Palace's Outer Garden•
As we stepped outside, the sun's warmth enveloped my skin, but the flutter of anxiety in my heart remained. The garden was alive with color, the flowers swaying gently in the breeze, but my focus was on the forest entrance ahead.
Ace and I made our way toward the forest, the air growing cooler as we approached the trees. I took a deep breath, gathering my courage.
"Wind!" I called out, the words escaping me with a mix of urgency and hope. "I'm leaving. I don't know when I'll be back, but when I return, I want to talk to you again!"
I held my breath, desperately waiting for a response. The forest was silent, the only sound the rustling of leaves in the breeze. My heart sank a little, but I refused to give up.
Suddenly, a voice broke through my thoughts. "What are you two doing here? We need to go now; we can't afford to delay our departure!"
We turned to see Ray standing there, dressed in a merchant outfit and wearing a monocle. I smiled; he looked like a judge from a picture book I had read in the past. He also had a gleaming sword at his side and was flanked by Ann.
"Ovelia, let's move. It seems your element friend isn't in the mood to chat," Ace suggested, his voice steady but laced with concern.
I nodded, feeling a pang of disappointment, but I knew we couldn't delay any longer. We approached Ray and Ann.
"Ann, that outfit suits you beautifully," I said, hoping to ease the tension coiling in the air.
She wore a charming dress—a crisp white blouse paired with a green apron-like section embroidered with colorful designs, complemented by a reddish-brown skirt that swayed as she moved.
"Thank you, Lady Ovelia," Her cheeks flushed a soft pink, her delight barely concealed behind her usual composure.
"Ace." Ray extended the sword toward him, the blade gleaming in the morning light. "Here."
Ace took it without a word, securing it at his side in a practiced motion. He glanced back at me, his voice gentle but firm. "Let's go."
I matched his pace, my unease growing with each step. As we turned to leave the garden, I cast one last look at the silent trees. The wind offered nothing—no whisper, no comfort, no warning.
I hoped—prayed—that the road ahead would not claim me the way the forest nearly had.