Lila's mind was still spinning. Since the moment she arrived in this strange and beautiful world, everything had felt like it was slipping through her fingers. One minute, she was wishing for an escape—and the next, she had awakened in a palace filled with magic and mystery. The truth had been delivered with the weight of prophecy: Elira, the princess, was dead. And Lila… Lila was meant to take her place.
She stood at the window of the grand chamber where she had awoken, gazing out at the kingdom that now looked to her for salvation. The palace grounds stretched far into the horizon, bathed in the warm amber glow of a descending sun. Towering trees and lush gardens whispered in the breeze, painting a picture of a world far too beautiful to be real. And yet it was.
Lila hugged her arms to her chest. The air smelled of flowers and something more ancient, something magic. But despite the beauty surrounding her, she couldn't shake the knot of dread in her stomach. She didn't belong here. She wasn't a princess, or a mage, or anything remotely special. She was just Lila.
The soft creak of the chamber door drew her from her thoughts. She turned to find Isolde entering the room with that same serene grace, her long silver hair catching the dying light like strands of moonlight. Her face, however, was more solemn than before.
"You are the one they have chosen," Isolde said quietly, her tone as gentle as it was firm. "The spirits have recognized you. The elements have waited for you to return."
Lila shook her head. "You keep saying that. But I'm not her. I'm not Elira. I don't have any magic. I don't even know what's going on."
"You may not understand now," Isolde replied, "but you will. The blood that flows through you is ancient, older than even this palace. It is the blood of the elemental kings—of fire, water, earth, and wind."
Lila opened her mouth to argue, to say it was all wrong, but before the words could leave her lips, a wind stirred from the window—cool and sudden, though no storm brewed outside.
The curtains fluttered, and the air shimmered.
Then, as if stepping from the wind itself, a figure emerged.
He was tall, almost otherworldly, with a presence that made the room feel too small. His eyes were a deep, twilight blue, vast and unreadable. His very skin seemed to shimmer with energy, and his movements carried the quiet grace of a breeze through trees.
Lila took an involuntary step back. She didn't need him to speak to know he wasn't human.
"I am the Wind King," he said, his voice smooth, distant, and strangely calming.
Lila stared, breath caught in her throat. "A spirit…?"
He inclined his head. "Yes. One of four. We are bound to you by ancient blood. We have waited a long time for you, Lila."
The words struck something inside her—something hidden, buried deep. A flicker of warmth bloomed in her chest, like a memory she had never lived.
"But… why me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"You were born of both worlds. Your blood remembers, even if your mind does not. The legacy of the elemental kings lives through you. And with it, the power to restore what was lost."
Lila didn't know what scared her more—his words, or the fact that a part of her believed them.
She looked from him to Isolde, who nodded solemnly.
"You are the last of their line, Lila," she said. "And the kingdom does not have much time left."
The wind stirred once more, whispering secrets Lila wasn't ready to hear.
End of Chapter 3