23: Elysian Princess

  Once upon a time, in the Elysian Kingdom, a story unfolded that might make even the most stoic historian chuckle bitterly.

  The royal family had a legend, more of a curse, really, embroidered with the kind of irony that could only be appreciated irospect or perhaps in a dark edy.

  It all began a millennium ago, when a wise man visited the pregnant queen. He prophesied that the queen would have a daughter desti joy to the kingdom and embody filial piety.

  Naturally, the queen and king, who had their hearts set on a male heir to tihe royal family’s Force art, were less than thrilled.

  So, when the princess arrived, she was met not with joy but disdain. Quickly sidelined in favor of her soon-to-be-born brother, she became the kingdom’s least favorite child.

  While the brother was showered with love and adution, she was relegated to the role of the family's bck sheep, an outcast even to the pace servants who bullied her relentlessly.

  The plot, as plots do in tales of royal folly, thied when she was mysteriously pushed into the pace pond and drowned—an act whispered to be the handiwork of her darling brother.

  Of course, everyone hushed it up.

  As if the pace hadn’t lears lesson (a's be ho, when do paces ever learn?), the queen gave birth to another daughter who bore a striking resembo the te, unloved princess.

  Overe with superstitious dread, the royal couple promptly rid themselves of the newborn. History, it seems, has a cruel sense of humor.

  Fast forward a few decades, and that favored son asded to the throne, proving to be a tyrant who mistreated his elderly parents and vioted a noblewoman.

  This woman, in a twist of poetic justice, gave birth to another daughter looking eerily like the previously murdered princesses.

  The cycle tinued—a carousel of cruelty where each male heir somehow turned into a monstrous ruler while eaed princess with striking resembo the first princess was kiragically mistreated.

  After several geions of this grim family tradition, the kingdom itself began to crumble.

  But lo and behold, it was the seveh princess—a mirror image of the first—who saved the day.

  Rumor had it she was the inal princess reinated, returning again and again to a family that never learned.

  With a bit of uprising here and a dash of overthrow there, the kingdom was turned on its head. The princesses asded to power, celebrated and cherished, while the princes, well, they were there too, mostly for moral support, shackled by past sins.

  And thus, the Elysian Kingdom learhe hard way: keep killing your ki, and they'll e back to haunt you, possibly saving you from your own disastrous decisions.

  As for the prihey became the eternal sed fiddles in a matriarchy that thrived, because sometimes, the best man for the job is a womaedly—

  ***

  Man Le Fay disappeared right around the time the uninvited guests decided to pop in from their not-so-cozy cra the sky.

  ce? Well, maybe not.

  This fortuitous s of presences did make a few eyebrows ihermere arch high enough to rival the very arch of that sky crack.

  Speaking of the crack, imagi as less of a doorway and more of a fiery gatekeeper floating ominously above hermere.

  This wasn’t yarden variety magical portal where you could just flouhrough to the other side for a quiterdimensional jaunt.

  No, this crack came with a built-in BBQ feature—try to pass through without an invitation and you’d get charred faster than a marshmallow at a dragon’s birthday party.

  The locals spun tales, pointing fingers at Man for her timely disappearance, suggesting she might have traded her earthly residency for something a bit more ic.

  The spiracy theorists had a field day with this, theorizing that she was either hosting intergactic tea parties or had somehow bee an involuntary ambassador in space.

  Perhaps she’d gone off to iate a space trade deal: magic spells in exge for alien ted an act happened iween—it sounds fair, right?

  Well, that theory stopped cirg after the fact that she was still o be found even after three years.

  Was she… dead?

  Oopic of teology, some bright spark theorized that the reason these invaders could waltz through the crack without turning into ic toast was due to their shiny spaceships, equipped with the test in “Don’t-get-fried” tech—a gadget that hermere’s fi minds hadn’t quite cracked yet.

  The idea that only these high-tech hotrods could navigate the crack without disiing brought about an intense side-eye from the hermerians.

  After all, who would want a one-sided visit?

  Despite undeniable proof that theirs wasn't the sole pr civilization amidst the vast expanse of space, the denizens of hermere remained frustratingly earthbound, uo traverse the celestial realms that y tantalizingly beyond their reach.

  This also expined why Burn couldn't simply hurl his proverbial bucket at the invaders and force them to kick it—figuratively speaking, of course.

  "Where did she mention she was heading?" Burn inquired of Yvain as they sat together at the strategy table, having just discussed their quest of the Elysian Kingdom.

  Yvain's gaze dropped as he admitted, “My Master… well, I’ve never been worthy of w about her problems so she never said anything when she was going to leave to solve anything…”

  “You knew she was going somewhere to solve problems?” Burn prodded, readiween the lines.

  Yvain solemnly answered, “It’s obvious when my Master had a problem.”

  “For the minor skirmishes, she'd disappear without a word and reappear by dawn, as if she'd just popped out for a midnight snack. But when the big guns were called for..."

  Here, Yvaiured vaguely into the air.

  At his wave, a small dimensional rift yawned briefly above the table, casually disg a cascade of magical items—each bristling with protective entments.

  "Whe was time for her to front something big, she'd arm me with this arsenal of homemade… rare, mythical goodies," Yvain tinued, with a wave towards the glittering array of artifaow cluttering the table.

  "You know, just casual keepsakes to protect me. I know she has always beera about things like this, but this time…”

  Seeing the items oable, Burn remembered why Yvain was a tough oo kill in his first loop.

  The implication was clear: when the going got tough, the tough got going, and Yvain’s role was to sit tight and try not to let anyone sneak up on him—armed, of course, with his Master's crafty colle of ented tris.

  Burn psed into a ptive silence, his mind whirring as he parsed the breadcrumbs of information Yvain had scattered before him.

  It was during this reflective pause that something oable caught his eye, drawing him out of his reverie.

  There, amidst the assorted magical paraphernalia that Yvain had casually summoned, y the Frostbearer's Heart stone, now masterfully crafted int.

  This wasn't just any tri; it was a marvel of mystical craftsmanship. The stoself shimmered with an inner light, pale blue and crystalline, as if capturing a sliver of winter sky within its facets.

  It was set in a band of silver that twisted around like the branches of frost-covered trees, delicate yet unmistakable in its strength.

  The ring's aura of cold alpable, chilling the air slightly around it, hinting at its power to wield the essence of frost itself.

  “Frostbearer’s Heart… the Wintersin Empire?” Burn blurted.

  “Eh?” Yvain suddenly flinched.

  “What?” Burn turo him. “You know something?”