That night, I slept fitfully in the narrow bed of the inn, the golden coin Mousikí had given me still clenched in my palm. Sleep came reluctantly, and when it did, it dragged me under like a river’s current—straight into a vision that felt too real to be a dream. I stood deep beneath Vildora, the once bright throne room was dark and shadowed.. The air was thick with fear, the torches flickering a sickly gold. At the far end of the corridor, Forá sat on a throne of twisted obsidian and bone, a crown of molten gold blazing atop her head. She looked almost regal—if you ignored the madness gleaming in her pure gold eyes and the cruel twist of her mouth. She was grinning, her black marble skin shining in the torchlight, golden veins throbbing with every beat of her corrupted heart. Her hands rested on the arms of her throne—one of them still stained with my blood. Across the chamber, a heavy iron cage hung suspended above the floor. Inside, Ying and Yang huddled together, both battered and bruised, their divine glow dimmed to a pale, desperate flicker. Chains bound their wrists and ankles, dampening their powers. I could see the pain and anger etched on Ying’s face, the fear in Yang’s eyes as he tried to shield his sister from Forá’s gloating stare. Forá’s laughter echoed through the chamber, sharp and triumphant. "You see, little heroes? Vildora is mine now. The age of old gods is over. The age of Time begins." Ying met her gaze with defiance, even as blood trickled from a cut on her cheek. “You’ll never hold Vildora. Sooner or later, someone will rise against you.” Forá only smiled wider, tapping her crown with a bloodstained finger. “Let them try. Time devours all heroes in the end.” “My queen!” A voice rang out, hurried footsteps echoing down the throne room corridor. Forá’s grin faltered, her golden eyes narrowing in annoyance. “What is it now, peasant?” she snapped, her tone dripping with contempt. “Can’t you see I’m busy entertaining our guests?” The old guard bowed low, trembling as he presented a scrap of fabric—my fabric, unmistakable in its shade and stitching. “We were scouting the mortal world for easy prey, Your Majesty, when we found this. It matches the dress worn by the runaway princess.” Forá’s mouth curled into a wicked smile. “So, the little hero survives. Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Ying surged forward in the cage, fists clenched around the bars. “Don’t touch her! She still—” Forá silenced her with a sharp gesture, eyes blazing. “Time? I am time! I decide when it’s up—and for your little friend, it’s almost over!” She straightened, calling out with a voice that seemed to shake the stones themselves. “Chrysós!” From the shadows, a great fox padded forward—its fur a rich, impossible gold, eyes bright and unblinking. The beast stood nearly as tall as Forá’s waist, radiating a primal, unsettling power. Forá knelt, snatching the fabric from the guard and holding it beneath the fox’s nose. “Track the scent, boy,” she murmured, her voice low and hungry. “Find the little princess. Make sure her time runs out… Understand?” She fastened a collar around the fox’s neck, its gold fur darkening at the tips, eyes turning bottomless black. Its jaws stretched, teeth lengthening into cruel points. With a menacing snarl, Chrysós spun and tore from the dungeon, crashing through obstacles as it hunted. Forá’s laughter echoed long after the creature was gone, wild and triumphant. The sound chased me from the vision—I jolted awake, heart racing, the echo of her madness still ringing in my ears. “I have to get up,” I muttered, rolling out of bed as the last shreds of the vision clung to my mind. My adventure had truly begun. I sat for a moment, tangled in blankets and thoughts, the images of Forá’s cruel smile and that monstrous fox haunting me. Was it really just a dream? Ying always said her visions felt half-real, and warned that, in time, I’d have them too. Maybe this was my first.
A sharp knock on the door jolted me back to the present. Mousikí’s voice followed, muffled but unmistakably impatient: “Laelynn? Are you up? Come on, we need to get moving!” He knocked again, this time harder. I scrambled to pull on fresh clothes and threw a cloak over my shoulders, tucking my hair beneath the hood. I grabbed Ying’s dagger and took a steadying breath before opening the door. Mousikí was waiting in the hallway, arms crossed, tapping his foot. When he saw me, relief flickered across his face, quickly replaced by his usual teasing grin. “There you are. For a second, I thought you’d snuck out without me.” He reached out and ruffled my hair, sending a flush of warmth to my cheeks. I swatted his hand away, trying to mask my embarrassment with a scowl. “Do you even brush your hair, or is it always like this?” he teased, laughter in his eyes. I shot him a glare. “It’s natural, thank you very much. Some of us don’t have time for vanity. Now, are we leaving or not?” Mousikí’s grin widened. “Not so fast, your royal highness.” He said mockingly, “We have to make a quick stop” “To where? You said we leave at—” “The first light? Yeah, well, change of plans, princess…” Mousikí shifted his weight, looking sheepish. “I, uh, left my flute at a tavern.” I blinked, confused. “Your flute? I thought you played the lyre.” He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “I only use the lyre for performing—like yesterday, for the crowds. My flute is… different. It’s for battle. Holds stronger magic than the lyre and, honestly, it’s a lot harder to break. Trouble is, I left it behind at a tavern a few nights ago. Let’s just say I got a little too friendly with the wine and a little too quick with a curse. The owners kicked me out before dawn, and the flute’s still there.” I stared at him, trying not to smile at his embarrassment. “So, you mean to tell me that the fate of Vildora—and maybe the world—depends on us picking up your forgotten instrument from a bar you got thrown out of?” He winced, giving me an apologetic look but the grin in his eyes was still hear. “In my defense, it’s a very important flute.” I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help a small grin. “Fine. But you’re dealing with the angry barkeep. I’ll handle the actual fighting, if it comes to that.” Mousikí laughed, relief clear in his mismatched eyes. “Deal. And, Laelynn?” “Yes?” “Maybe keep that dagger handy. Just in case.” “I… I will…” I mumbled, trailing behind him as we made our way out of the inn all the way down the street. Mousikí’s stride was almost twice as long as mine, and he moved with the energy of someone who’d already had his morning coffee—twice. He stopped suddenly, turned around, and before I could protest, he scooped me up in his arms, bridal style. I yelped, clinging instinctively to his shoulders as my heart leapt into my throat. “I-I… What are you doing?!” I stammered, heat flooding my cheeks. He flashed a mischievous grin, eyes twinkling. “You’re way too slow. And… What's this? Are you blushing, princess? How adorable.” My face burned even hotter. “Put me down!” I managed, squirming as he laughed. He relented, gently setting me on my feet. For a moment, he looked just as flustered as I felt, scratching the back of his neck. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he said, the hint of a shy smile softening his features. I crossed my arms, trying to hide my blush. “Next time, just walk slower. Or get shorter legs.” He chuckled, the tension breaking between us. “No promises. But I’ll try, for your sake.”
