The conversation with the young leader, Rhea Varne, had been calmer than I expected. She is only thirteen, yet already at the helm of her village—a fate she had not chosen. Her father, Darian Varne, the former leader of Velsoth, had been found lifeless in his bed just days ago. As his only blood heir, leadership had fallen to her, despite her age and against the traditions that forbade a woman from ruling. Her half-brother, Coren Varne—son of her mother, Ilirys—had no claim, being born from a previous marriage. And so, Rhea alone remained as heir.

  After losing consciousness during the battle against Rasha Vane, the Sualtier had fled the battlefield before they could be captured. Following our encounter with Rhea and her followers—including Selric Thorne, the Shadow Shield of the throne—we had been escorted to a room. It is not a prison cell, yet the guards posted outside the door are a stark reminder that we are not free.

  I step to the window, gazing out upon a world that feels unlike anything an Elindine should know. Velsoth lies deep beneath the earth, far from the light of stars and moons. Yet what stretches above me is a display of color that rivals any sky. Emerald hues melt into deep blue, which in turn fades into gentle violet. At first, the colors seem to merge into one another—a silent, flowing river of light. But the longer I watch, the more I see. Fleeting patterns shifting, delicate swirls as if the sky itself is breathing. It reminds me of the Nexari, the in-between world whose beauty once left me speechless. And yet… the sky of Velsoth is no less magnificent. Different, foreign, yet teeming with life—an untouchable wonder in the darkness. A second masterpiece of nature, alongside the Nexari.

  “Why in Rhovan Ardelon’s name are we still locked up?” Mirael bursts out. She has spoken little since our capture, and now that she does, her voice feels unfamiliar to me. Almost distant. “We proved to Rhea that we aren’t her enemies—did I just imagine that?”

  Sylas leans against the wall, studying her thoughtfully. “She’s only been Velsoth’s leader for a few days,” he says at last. “Maybe we aren’t just prisoners. Maybe she’s keeping us here for our own protection.”

  I shoot him a skeptical look. Like Mirael, I struggle to understand his reasoning. If Rhea Varne truly wished to keep us safe, why imprison us? Wouldn’t the simplest course be to send us away from Velsoth altogether?

  “We have no choice but to wait,” Sylas adds. His posture betrays his own frustration with our situation. But he’s right. Velsoth isn’t like the other villages of Elindros—we are deep underground, and who knows where the path to the surface might be? “The most important thing is that we stay together. Let me do the talking, and be ready if things take a turn for the worse.” He meets my gaze. “Thanks to you, I can wield fire now. I’ll be able to protect you better.”

  Sylas always thinks of our safety. Always. In that, he is nothing like his father. Zyar Velqorin—at least in the time I was forced to know him—had always placed his own ambitions above the feelings of those around him. A part of me is relieved that we no longer have him by our side. And yet, I cannot deny the quiet curiosity that lingers within me at the thought of our next encounter.

  A soft click echoes through the silence. The turn of a key in the lock.

  As if on cue, we all turn to face the door.

  It swings open. A Velsothier steps inside. His black armor is like that of the others, yet I recognize him instantly as the one who had forced me to kneel before him. My suspicion is confirmed the moment his rough voice breaks the silence.

  “You are expected.”

  Without a word, we follow him out of the room. The darkness that once surrounded us is no longer a hindrance, thanks to the Veleis. Sylas had explained that our first cell had been lit with the same light that was common in Elindros. But here, in Velsoth, such a thing is rare. Perhaps that cell is the only place where light from above is used.

  We walk through narrow corridors, each identical to the last. No paintings, no decorations, only bare walls. The monotony is so overwhelming that a stranger might go mad within these halls. And yet, after a while, my feet begin to find the path on their own.

  Then, something changes. The corridor ends. Before us stands a door—a destination at last. A next step forward.

  The Velsothier opens it and steps through. We follow him onto a short bridge that connects two wings of the castle.

  And for the first time, I see Velsoth in its entirety, not just through a window.

  The buildings rise like jagged shadows from the depths, their dark facades lending the village a grim, almost suffocating presence. In the distance, I spot its inhabitants—Velsothier without armor. So only those who serve the leader wear these ominous garments?

  A thought creeps into my mind: Do they live down here because they must? Is it not possible for them to live on the surface?

  A quiet unrest stirs within me.

  The bridge carries us into the next section of the castle. More endless corridors, more of the same suffocating desolation. My thoughts drift to Rhea Varne’s father. He ruled over Velsoth for so long—what kind of ruler must he have been for this place to feel so… empty?

  But what did I expect? Velsoth lies buried beneath the earth, severed from the light. There is no life here, no warmth, nothing like the vibrancy of Solnya or Arenath.

  Lost in thought, I barely notice when we come to a halt before a door. It looms taller than the others—midnight black, yet its handle gleams with an unblemished white.

  The Velsothier who forced me to my knees not long ago raises his fist and knocks. A sharp snap rings out from within, and at once, the door swings open.

  My gaze locks onto the woman I first saw in the throne room—the one who held the mirror before my face. She stands beside a man lounging on a velvet sofa, one leg draped over the other, his grip loose around a dark goblet as she refills it from a black-glinting pitcher.

  Is everything in this place cloaked in black?

  Slowly, the man lifts his gaze from his drink, his eyes meeting mine. But the woman—she had sensed our presence from the beginning. Her stare glides over each of us, only to linger on me. Of course. We have already stood face to face once before.

  If Sylas is right about the reputation of the Losniw, perhaps she feared me more than she dared to show.

  “Vespera Entium,” the stranger speaks my name as if tasting honey upon his tongue. “The precious vessel. The tenth vessel of the Sonatius Mortaeda.”

  So, even here, they believe I am the fulfillment.

  He leans back and snaps his fingers once more. “Nyssa, bring our guests each a glass of our finest crystal bloom drink.”

  “As you command, my lord,” the woman replies with the kind of obedience forged over years of habit. Even before the last echo of his voice fades, she bows her head and drifts from sight.

  I frown slightly, but Sylas had been clear—he would do the talking. I hold my tongue.

  “I appreciate your invitation, …?” Sylas trails off, forcing the stranger to introduce himself.

  “Leader Coren Veyr,” the Velsothier declares, bearing a title that belongs to Rhea Varne.

  My breath catches. That name… He is her half-brother!

  “I appreciate you keeping my dear little sister company while I was otherwise engaged,” he says smoothly.

  “You are the leader of Velsoth?” There is disbelief in Sylas’ voice, though he fights to keep it measured. Coren Veyr merely raises an amused brow.

  “Forgive my reaction,” Sylas adds, regaining his composure. “But your sister introduced herself as the leader of the village.”

  Coren Veyr laughs—a deep, room-filling sound, accompanied by a slow shake of his head.

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  Something about him unsettles me.

  His smile feels rehearsed, his posture too carefully composed. I do not know if I can trust him. But after eighteen years in a gilded cage, surrounded only by a king, a queen, a crown prince, and servants, I have no experience in reading humans—or Elindine.

  “I allowed my sister to play leader in my absence,” he says indulgently. “Ah, the poor girl. She still mourns our father’s passing. And with Selric Thorne at her side, I see no harm in letting her have her little game.”

  Sylas remains wary. “Then why, when we were captured, did the Velsothier call out her name—rather than yours?”

  Coren Veyr’s smile never falters. But I wonder—does he truly exude such ease, or is there a fire seething beneath that mask?

  “My little sister was present. I did not wish to break her tender heart,” he says with feigned regret. “The weight of our father’s death burdens us all. Especially me. As the new ruler of Velsoth, I have a responsibility.”

  His gaze drifts back to me.

  Sylas notices at once. “And what responsibility would that be?”

  “I would like to discuss that with the tenth vessel,” Coren Veyr replies calmly. “Men, escort our guests to one of the adjoining chambers.”

  The air in the room shifts instantly.

  The guards seize Sylas and Mirael. Mirael does not dare to resist, but Sylas tears himself free, his features taut with fury.

  “I swore to protect Vespera,” he hisses. “Whatever you have to say, I will hear it.”

  The Velsothier's smile vanishes.

  He tilts his head slightly, as though weighing his next move. “You are in the heart of Velsoth,” he says at last, his voice now carrying a glacial edge. “In my castle, under my roof. Choose your words carefully, and your actions even more so. You would not want your precious Solniw to suffer for your mistakes, would you?”

  Sylas’ gaze flickers to Mirael. Her eyes are wide with fear. Then he turns back to Coren Veyr.

  “You must not take offense, son of Zyar Velqorin,” the Velsothier continues. “Your name precedes you, and I have great respect for your father. But as the leader of Velsoth, I have certain duties to my people.”

  With the barest nod, he signals his men.

  Mirael and Sylas are dragged away. Sylas struggles again, but he is outnumbered. The door slams shut behind them, and their footsteps fade down the corridor.

  I am alone with Coren Veyr.

  He turns to face me slowly. “Did I startle you, honorable vessel?” His charming smile returns, but it does not reach me.

  “My name is Vespera,” I correct him sharply.

  For the briefest moment, his smile flickers. But he recovers quickly.

  At that instant, the woman from before returns. She carries a tray with four glasses—none resembling the dark goblet in Coren Veyr’s hands. His own seems carved from blackened wood… or perhaps from some material that exists only in Elindros.

  She sets the tray down and silently steps to his side.

  “As the new ruler of Velsoth, I require a wife,” he announces without preamble.

  I don’t even flinch. I expected as much—what else would a man driven by power want from me?

  “The women of my village do not meet my expectations. To rule, I must have a powerful Elindine at my side. A Losniw with your strength and purpose.”

  I choose my words with care. “I appreciate your interest. But I have no desire for marriage. Besides, in the human world, I am already wed.”

  Coren Veyr’s expression darkens. “That is impossible!”

  His fist crashes down upon the armrest.

  I watch him in silence.

  What kind of man is he, who first threatens, then flatters, then rages? And what does he truly want from me?

  “That’s really not necessary,” I respond, but deep inside me, something stirs – a quiet whisper urging me to accept his offer. The desire to no longer be bound to Lord Louweris. But why would Coren Veyr show me this kindness?

  He doesn’t want me out of generosity. He wants me because I am connected to the Sonatius Mortaeda. In the human world, I was a nobody. Here, in Elindros, I am the vessel of the primordial being.

  When will I just be Vespera?

  When will I be enough?

  Coren Veyr suddenly raises his hand, his index finger pointing upwards. A soft, yet firm “Shh” forms on his lips.

  “Your arrival in Velsoth is fate,” he says with a calmness that sends a chill down my spine. "For a long time, we Elindine have waited for the last vessel of the Sonatius Mortaeda. We have hoped that you would lead this world into a new era."

  “A new era?”

  His gaze briefly flickers to the woman at his side. She meets it with a nervousness that permeates her entire being.

  “The strong and the weak. The winners and the losers,” he continues. “Aren’t you tired of being part of such a world? I’ve heard you grew up in the human realm.”

  My body stiffens.

  My gaze flicks to him – panicked, alarmed.

  He leans back casually, a shadow of satisfaction crossing his features. “I have eyes and ears everywhere in Elindros,” he says with barely concealed smugness. “Those in Solnya reported to me about a certain Liora. Later, the information was corrected – and I learned your true name.”

  He smiles.

  “Vespera… such a beautiful name. Do you know what it means?”

  I don’t answer.

  “‘Nightfall',” he reveals to me as if unveiling a precious secret. “The night is the herald of a new day—just as you are the harbinger of a new era, Vespera Entium.”

  My heart beats faster.

  “For centuries, the vessels have kept the Sonatius Mortaeda in check.” His gaze grows piercing. “What will become of Elindros when you take your final breath?”

  A threat.

  Or is it something else?

  He’s been following me.

  Since my arrival in Solnya, he’s known about me – even my false name that Sylas gave me to protect me.

  And now, he sits across from me, looking at me with that gentle smile.

  But I know better.

  I know how dangerous he is.

  My companions are not here. I am alone. How can I survive this situation without leading any of us to ruin?

  I breathe out slowly.

  “Why me, of all people?” I must buy time. “Yes, I am the vessel of the Sonatius Mortaeda. But I have no access to my gift as a Losniw, and the powers of the primordial being haven’t appeared to me either. So what makes me so special?”

  Coren Veyr’s eyes gleam.

  “Your powers are merely asleep,” he says with a conviction that sends a shiver down my spine.

  Then he leans forward slightly.

  “As I mentioned before – my shadows are everywhere in Elindros. I know what slumbers within you. And with me by your side, you will awaken the power of the primordial being. You will become the strongest Losniw of all time.”

  It’s a tempting offer. Too tempting. No matter how much I resist, the truth remains: I won’t get far on my own. The Astralis is still in my possession, but without the support of a powerful Elindine, I’ll hardly survive in the Nexari. Sylas could accompany me once more, and I’m sure he would do so without hesitation. But our last visit there only went well because Zyar was by our side – because he protected us from impending disaster.

  I take a deep breath. “May I ask you a question?” My voice sounds composed, but my heart beats faster than I would like. Speaking with this stranger without Sylas by my side feels like balancing on the edge of a cliff. But how much longer can I hide behind others? Eventually, I must learn to stand up for myself.

  Coren Veyr tilts his head. “You may ask me whatever is on your mind. Don’t hesitate, my dear.”

  His words are honey-sweet – yet they leave a bitter feeling inside me. It’s the same suffocating unease that I felt with Lord Louweris. Is this a warning signal? Or will I feel this way about every man who whispers flattery in my ear?

  I force myself to calm down. “You are Rhea’s half-brother,” I say, matter-of-factly, without hesitation. “I know that the former leader, Darian Varne, was not your father. You are descended from another man. Why was it that you were made leader, even though the rightful heir still lives?”

  His expression hardens for a fraction of a second, but then he resumes his smile – as though nothing happened.

  “And yet, I am the only male heir,” he explains, a trace of resentment in his voice. “In Velsoth, no woman has ever ruled – let alone a small child. What do you think would become of my people if my sister were in charge? Should we replace our finest warriors with dolls to protect the leader? I allow you questions, but not foolish ones.”

  I don’t let myself be swayed. “Why shouldn’t a woman be allowed to rule?” I furrow my brow. “The villages of Syvralen and Arenath were both founded by women. Sylas told me the founders were both extraordinarily powerful.”

  “And yet, there are few villages that can claim women as founders,” he responds, without truly addressing my question. “The Children of Light are almost exclusively male. The few female ones were married to the kings of Thalvaren. You have an admirable pride in your gender, but you must understand: We men will always be superior to you.”

  His words ignite my anger. The same old story. In the human world, men justify their supposed superiority with their physical strength. But here, in Elindros? Here, all Elindine have special abilities! What makes him believe that a female Solniw who controls water is any weaker than a male Solniw who does the same? Sure, some elements have natural advantages and disadvantages – air against fire, water against earth – but that has nothing to do with superiority.

  “As I see, my words have upset you,” Coren Veyr observes with amusement. I must have shown my emotions too openly. A mistake. I need to learn to control my anger better. “But you shouldn’t be so surprised. Surely, you’re no stranger to this kind of thing from the human world.”

  I take a deep breath. Either he truly believes this nonsense, or he’s deliberately trying to provoke me.

  “I appreciate your generous offer,” I say calmly, referring to his intention of dissolving my marriage to Lord Louweris. “But I have my companions. With them, I will reach my goal. And if necessary, I will find my way into the human world alone and settle my debts.”

  “And how will you do that if your precious Astralis cannot help you?”

  I freeze. Instinctively, I reach into my jacket pocket – and my heart skips a beat.

  Empty.

  Panic tightens around my throat.

  Coren Veyr holds the Astralis between his fingers, playfully spinning the shimmering sphere in the light. His triumphant grin tightens my chest.

  “I knew you were carrying it,” he says with an amused gleam in his eyes. “I’ve read much about this relic. So many beings stand beside the vessel to accompany it on its journey – and yet, a tiny sphere is enough to walk through the Nexari? Fascinating.”

  He watches me intently, his voice softening – and at the same time, becoming heavier.

  “You have a choice, tenth vessel.”

  I feel sick. These words carry a weight I cannot ignore.

  “You will obey all my commands,” he begins, laying out his conditions. “You will accompany me to the Nexari, and there I promise to protect you. In the human world, I will annul your marriage. And when we return to Elindros…” He smiles – a smile that sends cold shivers down my spine. “…then you will be my wife, and help me bring my plans to fruition.”

  He leans forward, his gaze burning into mine.

  “Should you decide not to obey me, your companions will pay the price.”

  Silence.

  The world around me seems to freeze as his offer – or rather, his threat – echoes in my mind.

  “Well?” His voice is a soft whisper, yet it carries a crushing weight. “What is your answer?”