Page 6 of Elven Oath

I was being dismissed, pushed away from whatever was happening in the room. Glancing at the strangers again, I feel their eyes on me, but they also say nothing.

With a slight bow to my father, I turn and leave the hall, my mind spinning yet again. Dragons flying over the castle, strangers in my home, and my father refusing to tell me anything. The air felt thick with secrets, and I was trapped in the middle of it.

As I walk back to my chambers, the questions gnaw at me. Why wouldn’t my father explain what was going on? Who were those men, and what did they have to do with the dragons? And why was I being kept in the dark?

I catch sight of myself in the mirror along the hallway and realize I am still covered in dirt from the orchard.

My hair is wild, covered in leaves and my clothes rumpled. My father had been right about one thing, I did need to clean up. But that didn’t change the fact that something was wrong.

My thoughts drift back to the main hall, to the tension in my father’s voice, and those strangers standing near the table.

Three men I had never seen before, each of them imposing in their own way. But one stood out against the rest. One whose presence lingered in my mind even now, like an imprint I couldn’t shake.

He was the tallest of the three, with sharp features that somehow seemed both regal and dangerous at the same time.

His skin was fair, though there was something more to it, a kind of warmth that glowed beneath the surface, like embers hidden beneath cool ash.

And his eyes... gods, his eyes.

Golden.

More vivid than any I had ever seen. They seemed to glow brighter than those of his companions, as though lit from within by some secret fire.

When he looked at me, just for a brief moment before I left the hall, it was like his gaze pierced right through me, as if he could see everything I was trying to hide.

It made my heart race, though I wasn’t sure why and wasn’t sure if I disliked it.

He was handsome in a way that felt almost unnatural, like a figure from ancient stories come to life.

His face was strong, angular, but with a kind of grace to it. Not soft, but refined. Even standing still, there was a power in the way he carried himself, a quiet confidence that made him seem more dangerous than anyone else in the room. His companions were intimidating, yes, but they faded into the background next to him.

I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Who was he? Why had he come to our castle with dragons circling the sky?

There was something about him that felt important, even though I had no idea what his role in all this could be.

A part of me wanted to go back to the hall, to demand answers, not just from my father, but from him. Those golden eyes haunted me, burning into my memory.

And yet, even now, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had seen him before. Not in real life, but in the way you dream of something so vivid that it leaves a mark on you, even after you wake up.

I had never met him, and yet... It felt like he was someone I was meant to know.

Are the Gods playing a trick on me?

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