We descend into the underground levels.
The undisputed domain of my stepmother—
Urchoicha, Queen of the Orcs, Royal Seer, and formidable witch.
Aside from my father, there isn't a single orc in the world who doesn't fear her.
Chasing him down these corridors, I feel like an ant.
His heavy footsteps crash against the stone like waves pounding a cliff.
He's impatient.
Tense.
But the moment we step into her laboratory and he sees her, he changes.
I don't understand what he sees in her.
Almost as tall as he is, her body is massive—
somewhere between a mountain and a hill.
Greenish skin.
Harsh, angular features.
And yet—she is brilliant.
Terrifyingly skilled.
To the King, there is no better right hand.
Every time I come here, I'm struck by the same chaos.
Alembics.
Books.
Herbs.
Cauldrons far too large for me, yet perfectly sized for her.
Everything piled together without the slightest sense of order.
Watching Bàistec struggle not to knock something over every time he bumps into it is almost comical.
"I was expecting you," she says as soon as we enter.
No pleasantries. Never.
Then she looks at me.
And somehow, I feel even smaller than I already am.
"You should not have destroyed the Sigillum Maximum. There is no point pretending otherwise now. Because of you… we stand on the brink of war."
What?
"War?" I repeat, stunned.
I can't believe it.
Was what I did truly that grave?
"Yes. War. You understood perfectly."
She walks to a dark wall and takes down a long Dynor bone.
As she scribbles symbols on it, she speaks—slowly, carefully—so that I can understand.
As if I were an idiot.
"The Scroll was the binding ring of our Universe. Imagine… a radiant wheel. Yes? Beams of light all originating from a single point. The Sigillum made the Realm that possessed it the focal center around which all other Realms revolved. Gifted by the Realm of Great Light, it spread its power across the entire world, starting from the Realm that guarded it—rightfully becoming part of the Core of Light. Are you following so far?"
I am.
"Yes."
"Now tell me—what happens when the point of convergence disappears, when such a balance is broken?"
"That… the beams scatter?" I venture.
It seems logical enough.
I must be right—she looks almost impressed.
She's fully in explanation mode now.
"Exactly. The beams can only scatter. And when they do, chaos erupts. That is why our world cannot exist without the Sigillum. Its peoples are wise—but without it, they will soon forget the roots of that wisdom. Pride and vanity will prevail. Power will become the only goal. Dominion over the other Realms. Just as it happened during the last war."
"I don't understand…" I say, my voice unsteady now. "What exactly are we facing? Universal collapse?"
"Not exactly. But something just as severe. We risk total dispersion of our world—its absorption into unknown universes. Impossible to predict where we will be lost, or what peoples we will encounter."
Total… dispersion?
What does that even mean?
Drifting through space at random?
All of this… because I destroyed a sheet of golden filigree?
Really?
My anxiety spirals.
I turn to my father—but he is calm.
Too calm.
He hasn't understood.
His mind is elsewhere.
I recognize that look.
He never changes.
All he thinks about is accumulating power and wealth.
And, of course—
"It might not be so bad!" he says enthusiastically. "I could subjugate other species, other peoples—become the Sovereign of Universal Realms!"
I stare at him.
Has he lost his mind?
Urchoicha glares at him, livid.
"Stop spewing nonsense! This is not a game! Our world is already in grave danger because of your stupidity! You want to rule? Then start surrounding yourself with intelligent people instead of incompetents—and above all, start thinking like a KING!"
She shouts, spitting the words in his face.
We both fall silent.
I wish I could disappear.
She takes a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down.
Then she looks at us, severe.
"Now be quiet. Both of you. Silent."
She closes her eyes.
A violet light surrounds her.
She concentrates deeply.
Then she opens them again.
"According to my calculations, we are the first—and for now the only ones—to be struck by the darkness," the Queen finally says. "But it won't take long before it spreads to the other Realms as well. In exactly seven magical months from the destruction of the Scroll, we will all be plunged into eternal darkness—and universal dispersion will begin."
"Seven… magical months?" I ask, confused.
She shakes her massive head.
I should know this, apparently.
But even Bàistec looks uncertain.
"Time is an extremely relative concept, Dorcha. It will not be seven months as we understand them. Without the Sigillum, each month will become a year, each week a season, and a single hour… roughly thirteen hours. We will all age much faster. Our perception of time will feel the same—as if an hour were still an hour—but it will not be so. We will watch the seasons rush by at an unimaginable pace. Their succession will become the true measure of time. Seven months will correspond to seven real years."
"You're joking!" the King roars.
He's shocked.
So am I.
Cold sweat runs down my spine.
The guilt is crushing me.
Strangely, being here—surrounded by my parents—is the only thing that gives me a sense of safety.
"No. I am not. I told you from the beginning that trying to seize the Sigillum was a terrible idea, thick skull! Now we are left with only one possible solution: recreating the Scroll from nothing."
What?
Then—
"Then it's simple!" my father and I exclaim together.
She looks at us like two orclings playing with wagon wheels.
"If it were simple… I would have done it already, wouldn't I?" she hisses, struggling to contain her rage. "The Sigillum was an ancient sheet of golden filigree, delivered to our world centuries ago. Its power and magic came from the Seven Magical Secrets—the seven foundations of life belonging to each of the Seven Realms."
"So?" the King asks.
"So nothing. We can do nothing. Only a bearer of the Supreme Secret can accomplish such a feat. Our only hope is that the Queen—or at least the Princess of Nuvolandia—has not been petrified. If that is not the case, we are lost. I, unfortunately, do not possess the power to dissolve the defensive enchantment of the Sigillum and free them."
"Defensive?" I venture, a sudden realization dawning on me. "So the petrification…"
"…was meant to prevent someone from committing the idiocy you did. Exactly. But you were even faster than the magic itself! Curse you—! Silence. I must see…"
She spreads her legs, folds her arms tight against her chest, tilts her head, and closes her eyes again—this time rocking slowly back and forth.
Then she lifts her face and snaps her eyes open.
"She lives! Princess Aileen is alive. She is traveling toward the Realm of the Green Forests! She certainly knows the whole truth. And if that's the case, all we must do is watch her and wait. Once she recreates the Sigillum, you will simply steal it."
Suddenly doubtful, she lowers herself until her face is level with mine.
Then she shakes her head.
"It's easy. Even you can manage it."
After Urchoicha's revelations, Bàistec and I head toward our quarters.
We are both shaken. Lost in thought.
As for me—I don't just feel guilty for committing the greatest stupidity of the century.
The worst part is this:
I have disappointed my father.
I think he hates me.
"Son, I have a task for you."
I look at him, stunned.
I was certain that—
"Aileen is young and inexperienced. She cannot succeed on her own. But she must. And before the seven magical months come to an end. Follow her. Spy on her. Protect her. Support her in every way—use magic if necessary; pretend to be her friend if you must. She has no experience; deceiving her will not be difficult. Stay close without revealing who you are, and steal the Scroll before anyone else can."
I snap to attention.
"Yes, Father."
"Do not disappoint me again," he says at the doorway.
Then he shuts himself inside his chamber.
I remain there for a moment, staring at the enormous closed door.
This time—
I will not fail.
-----
The path keeps getting narrower. It feels endless… it's so cold… will I ever get out of here? I can barely breathe… I need air…
What if Mom was wrong? Maybe the cave she remembered was another one… please, let it not be so. If I don't find the Elven Realm, who will help me? They're my only hope. Aeltiàfisar. He will help me. He has to. But what if he isn't as powerful as Mom believed? What will I do then?
It feels like years have passed since this afternoon.
The darkness above me feels thicker.
I raise my arm… I touch the ceiling?! By all the clouds, it's even lower now! I'm going to suffocate in here!
Calm down. Calm down. Breathe. I have to calm myself… I have to. I inhale deeply, forcing myself to slow down. Yes.
I don't want to die! Mom, Dad, help me! I have to save you. I want to save you! Our people need you!
What would you do if you were in my place? You wouldn't give up. Right?
Neither will I. Come on. I can do this.
Wait… this… yes, it's air! It's coming from— I wet my finger with saliva and hold it out to feel the draft… from that narrow tunnel! I can't be wrong.
I move closer. It's low, but if there's air coming from there, this is the way.
I drop to all fours and crawl inside.
It's even colder here…
How much time has passed? If only I had some light. What did my fairy-sitter used to say? "If you want magic to happen, you have to truly want it." And Fayrin said… of course! I just need to empty my mind.
There it is—a warm, crackling, glowing fire. You're mine.
"Little flame… shine."
It worked!!! A tiny flame floats in the air, suspended, like a water lily on a pond. At last, some light… and some warmth. Did I really do that? Incredible.
What's that sound? It feels like… dripping.
Water! Maybe I'm close! I was right. Where there's water, there's an exit.
I follow the sound, fast. Soon the ceiling rises, the space opens up, and a strong scent hits me—salt? The sea? And in the distance, a bright light: the cave's exit!
I jump to my feet and run toward it! I can't wait to get out of here!
I step outside. The light is so blinding I have to close my eyes… for a moment… then I open them again.
The sea is there—but I'm still inside a cave. This isn't the exit.
The walls tower above me. Now what?
And if… maybe this is the Elven Realm!
"Hello? Is anyone there?" I shout.
Uh… the water ripples! But no one appears…
"Hello. Who are you?"
Who is—?! The voice is strange. Deep. Nasal. Almost like it's made of water.
But where is it? I look around… there's no one!
"I'm down here, child. Look below."
Another movement in the water, stronger this time.
I step closer to the shore and peer down.
There's a cavern beneath the surface. It glows a deep, vivid blue, and at the bottom there's light!
And in the center… a gigantic fish! At least five meters long, with a snout almost three more!
He lifts his head and splashes me! I nearly scream.
I look at him more closely. His head is rounded, his eyes large and black—and gentle. Small, rounded fins. And on his snout, a beautiful spiral horn, shining white, almost silver.
"And… who are you?" I ask, wide-eyed.
"So curious. Hmm… brown hair, a luminous blond streak, skin that gives off golden light. You're Princess Aileen, aren't you? You look a lot like your mother… and your father too, I must say. Oh, the things your dear Eadwig and I have been through. Allow me to introduce myself: I am Adalberto."
He knows my parents! And me! Could he be—
"Nice to meet you… are you an elf?" I ask, though I already know the answer. Elf-fish don't exist… do they?
He widens his eyes and laughs.
"Oh no! I belong to the Elven people, but I'm an elven narwhal, not an elf!"
"Oh… is their Realm far from here?"
"Not at all. The Realm of the Green Forests is right above us."
Above us—that means it's close!
"Is there another way to reach it, besides crossing the sea?" I ask.
"No, child."
"What do you mean, no? Then how am I supposed to get there? I'm not a fish!"
"Oh, well. Neither am I."
What does that even mean? I still don't understand what he is.
"In any case, why are you still standing there? Climb onto my horn. I'll take you across in the blink of an eye!"
"But I can't breathe underwater—I'll die!"
"Don't worry," he says gently. "Trust me."
With a subtle flick of his fins, Adalberto brings his long, wide horn closer to the shore and tilts his head slightly. He's inviting me to climb on.
What… how… well—why not. I'll try. After all… what do I have left to lose?