The Forsaken Hero-Chapter 921: Mismatched Eyes

We followed the curve of the wall, winding through scattered groups of gossiping nobles. Our tails drew harsh looks, but I ignored them, content to be by Luke’s side. When a servant passed with a tray of drinks, R’lissea snagged a flute of golden liquid, giving it a swirl before taking a sip. I shook my head, and Luke politely declined.

We approached one of the alcoves, a large archway leading into another vaulted room just as large as the Heart Gallery. The walls and floor were a deep golden color with highlights of crimson streaks. The runes above were similar to Elise’s name.

"This must be the Sunset Gallery," I said, looking around.

There were more windows here, giving a wide view of the horizon, where the sun hovered above the mountains. Long rectangular tables spread across the floor in orderly rows, with dozens of servants laying out plates and cutlery. The balconies were larger, circular platforms that hung out over the floor, connected by thin walkways that hugged the walls.

"Doesn’t seem like dinner’s started yet. We’ll have to come back later," R’lissea said.

The next Gallery was the sunrise, decorated in white and gold. The room was filled with smaller, more intimate arrangements of chairs and settees, with a few musicians playing softly in the corner.

With nothing of particular interest, we circled this room as well, but when we passed through to the next, I was surprised to find we had returned to the Hearth Gallery.

"What about the Zenith?" I asked, looking around, bewildered.

"Zenith..." R’lissea frowned, looking around. Her gaze strayed up, and she gasped. "Remember how tall the trees were?"

I pursed my lips. "You don’t think...?"

"Come on, let’s find out!" she cried, starting toward the bottom of the nearest staircase.

We cut across the room, drawing more disapproving looks as we passed. As we drew near the stairs, I noticed the two guards standing at the entrance, identified by the swords they wore on their hips. They nodded as we passed, a stiff, albeit friendly nod. My gaze lingered until I saw the red threads around their ornamental scabbards.

The angle of the stairs was gentle, but before we reached the first level, my legs began to burn. I was panting when we finally reached the top.

"That’s a lot of stairs," R’lissea said, peering down the way we came. "You’d think they’d have elevators, like the library at the Divine Throne has."

"That...would be nice..." I said, leaning on Luke as I caught my breath. "You’d better be right about the Gallery. I didn’t climb all this for nothing."

"Then how about the view? Certainly puts the elves in perspective," Luke said, peering over the glassy railings.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" R’lissea asked, giving him a suspicious look.

Gripping Luke’s arm, I tentatively peered over the railing too. The ballroom floor was a long way down, but it wasn’t the distance that caught my eye, but the elves themselves. From five hundred feet away, they were like small, delicate little dolls, or...

"They’re just insects," Luke said, turning from them with a disinterested shrug. "Unaware how big the world truly is."

The Hearth Gallery really did look like an insect’s nest, with its layers and passages heading off to who knew where. But I didn’t like the thought, and was grateful when Luke pulled me from the railing. Turning from the top of the staircase, I got a chance to see the highest floor of the Hearth Gallery. There were no more stairs, making it a flat, even ring around the immense chamber, perhaps five hundred feet across. Tables and booths were set up against the walls, many of which were occupied. Doorless passageways covered in colorful stripes of silk led out onto balconies overlooking the city below.

"There it is," R’lissea said, pointing.

Sure enough, just across the way from the stairs was a large arched entryway. Above it, carved deep into the protruding capstone, was a rune I didn’t recognize.

"Zenith?" I whispered, tilting my head curiously.

"Must be. Let’s take a look," Luke said.

He led the way, and we made our way across the ring-like floor. Most of the elves gathered here were, predictably, younger and more athletic, wearing the crimson thread. As we passed by the last booth before the entryway, something called to me, resonating deep within my soul. I slowed, the faint starlight of my aura growing deeper, more noticeable, attracting the attention of the elves nearest us.

"What is it?" Luke asked, instantly alert.

One of the elves within the booth looked out, meeting my gaze. His eyes were deep and lustrous, and...wrong. One was an emerald green, the other cerulean. He wore a soldier’s dress uniform with the crest of Whitemarsh across his breast. When our eyes met, my chest tightened, a thrill running through my soul.

"Nothing," I said, turning away quickly. "I just--"

"Excuse me?" the mismatched-eyed elf called out. I turned, jumping a little when I saw he was standing. I hadn’t even heard him move. "You’re the Oracle, are you not? The one Lord Aerion spoke about?"

"Who are you to ask?" Luke asked, eyes narrowed.

"Luke, it’s fine," I whispered, squeezing his arm. Turning to the young soldier, I said, "I am."

He nodded slowly. "Sorry to ask this so suddenly, but have we met before? You feel...familiar."

"Perhaps. From a distance," I admitted. "I visited the Whitemarsh Estate some weeks ago, though we never had the chance for a conversation."

"The name is Esvitt," the elf said, bowing with a flourish. "A Whitemarsh I may be, but my blood is that of a vassal family. The Silverblades, if you’ve heard of us."

"I’m afraid not, though I’m not very good with names," I admitted.

He nodded, as if he expected the answer, and turned to my companions. He barely spared Luke a glance, but his eyes focused on R’lissea. She smiled at him, curling a strand of blonde hair around her finger. Was she...blushing?

They looked at each other for a few seconds, neither seeming to breath. After a long, charged second, the elf Esvitt was sitting with cleared his throat. Esvitt tore his gaze away, giving himself a little shake.

"This is Lord Terath, of House Ellenwinter," he hurriedly said.

He was a young, strapping man with a large, muscled frame and uncharacteristically short hair for an elf.

"Ellenwinter?" Luke asked, eyes narrowed.

Terath shrugged. "Yes, but I can’t say I fall in line with many of my house’s sentiments."

He gestured at his wrist, where a red thread was wound around his cuff. Luke gave him a flat look.

"Am I supposed to know what that is?"

"Ah, this? Forgive, but I assumed guests of House Sunsinger would know its significance," Terath said, "It’s something of a promise. A reminder, if you will, of an oath taken long ago. The Crimson Dawn."

"Hush," Esvitt said, giving him a sharp look. "Not now, not here."

"Right, right. My apologies," Terath said with an easy smile. "But please, continue. You must have climbed up all this way to see the Zenith Gallery. It’s right there. I believe the first dance is starting soon."

As we turned, Esvitt hesitated, his gaze torn between Terath and R’lissea. "Actually, I was wondering...if you had a dance planned for this evening? I’d be honored if you would grace me with one."

My soul stirred as R’lissea’s eyes widened, a blush staining her cheeks. Again, there was that sensation, that feeling of familiarity. The faint gold of my aura shimmered, giving fragmented glimpses into a future I’d seen before, of R’lissea and an elf with mismatched eyes dancing in a brightly lit room, strolling through moonlit gardens, and finally, staring into each other’s eyes.

My chest tightened as I stared at R’lissea, at her stunned expression and the way her eyes lit up. Did she remember it, or was she simply caught in the currents of fate, swept down the path she was always meant to follow?

R’lissea smoothed her dress, collecting herself, before giving him a sly smile. "I would like that, um, if you don’t mind. I’m not a very good dancer..."

"My Lady, I doubt that very much, but even if you are, it is my honor to guide you," he said, extending a hand.

She stared at it for a second, fingers curled in her skirt, then at me, giving me a helpless look. I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I just gave her what I hoped was an encouraging smile. She swallowed and turned back to the elf, placing her small, trembling hand in his.

"Shall we?" he asked.

She nodded, and he led her away, toward the Zenith Gallery. My tail swished nervously as they left. The movement drew Luke’s eye.

"What is it? I thought you’d be happy she found someone to enjoy the evening with," Luke said. His lips quirked in a teasing smile. "Unless you’re jealous?"

"Luke! That’s not what I..." I took a deep breath, willing the color from my cheeks. "No, you’re right. She deserves a chance to find her own path."

He tilted his head, scratching his cheek. "I don’t know about all that. It’s just a dance, isn’t it?" 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

As the two vanished into the gallery, the knot in my gut finally unraveled. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, the air leaving my lungs in a slow, controlled stream. "Right," I murmured to myself, a small, wry smile touching my lips. "Just a dance."