The Chains Beneath The Crown

Reunion Under Starlight
The stars glittered like silver dust scattered across midnight velvet as Maelis, Idris, Morgan, and Selene trudged toward the gates of Bellaflor. Their boots were caked in dust, their faces hollowed with exhaustion, their cloaks torn and streaked with travel stains. Yet, despite the weariness tugging at their limbs, there was a spark in their eyes—an urgency propelling their tired feet forward. None of them had slept in nearly two days, but the prospect of reaching Bellaflor kept their feet moving.

"You think they'll even let us in this late?" Morgan muttered, rolling his shoulders, each muscle aching in protest.

"We’ll find out soon enough," Selene answered, eyes scanning the looming gates.

As they neared the towering gates, two Bellaflorian guards stepped forward, spears crossed. The torchlight shimmered off their polished armor, and one guard frowned as he squinted at the group.

"Halt. State your purpose."

Maelis stepped forward, shoulders squared despite her weariness. "We are companions of the God Witch," she said with a firm voice. "We were sent on a mission to go find a cure to wake her sometime ago."

The guards exchanged wide-eyed glances. One of them took a hesitant step back and nodded quickly. "By the stars... You're her companions? You may pass—Bellaflor welcomes you."

The gates groaned open, revealing a cobbled road winding through a cluster of sleepy cottages and lantern-lit trees. But it wasn’t sleepy for long. As they moved past the gatehouse and into the outskirts, the air changed.

Drums thudded in the distance along with the faint sound of music.

Laughter echoed.

As they trudged onward, their steps slowed, and they looked at each other in disbelief.

"Do you hear that?" Selene asked.

"Music," Morgan said. "Why in the hells are the villagers playing music at this time of night?”

They walked further, the air thickening with the scent of roasted meat, honeyed bread, and spiced wine. They crested a hill, and the village unfolded beneath them in full glory—an eruption of color, life and celebration. Every street was bathed in light. Colorful banners hung from rooftops.

Lanterns of every hue lined the streets, casting glowing patterns across faces brimming with laughter. Tables overflowed with food and wine. Drummers beat lively rhythms as people danced in circles to the sound of tambourines and flutes. Children ran with sparklers in hand, and vendors peddled roasted almonds and flower garlands. Elderly folk clapped and swayed from their seats.

Maelis reached out and gently touched the arm of a woman passing by, her cheeks flushed from wine and her dress spangled with glittering threads.

"What’s going on? Why all the celebration?"

The woman blinked at them, her smile widening. "You haven’t heard?"

The group exchanged glances then shook their heads slowly.

"Heard what?" Maelis pressed.

The woman clapped her hands in glee. "The God Witch is awake! She’s returned to us! Bellaflor lives again!"

Selene’s breath hitched audibly. Maelis froze. Silence stretched between them for a brief moment.

Maelis's lips parted. "That means..."

"Darius?" Idris finished, his voice a thread of disbelief.

Maelis gripped Darius’s sword tighter in her hands then turned sharply to the others. "We need to get to the palace. Now."

They wasted no time. They plunged into the crowd, pushing through merrymakers with urgent apologies and hurried elbows. Some grumbled; some cursed. But most were too caught up in their own revelry to notice. Bells jingled. Streamers flew. Magic hung in the air like mist—raw, joyful, and unfiltered.

The journey toward the palace was not easy. The roads were crowded. The procession of Bellaflorians stretched for miles, a pilgrimage of gratitude and awe. Along the way, they passed altars made of flowers and candles. They passed witches performing impromptu spells of blessing, watched as children conjured harmless sparks to mimic the God Witch’s rumored powers. Laughter and prayer blended into a melody of hope. The deeper they went, the more intense the celebration became. The music was louder, the food richer, and the joy more palpable

Two hours later, with aching feet and heaving breaths, the spires of Bellaflor’s royal palace came into view. Moonlight kissed its marble surface, and lanterns hung from every archway. The energy here was different—more reverent. Rows of witches and humans alike crowded toward the great clearing outside its gates, where guards directed lines of people toward a courtyard draped in banners of silver and blue.

Royal guards flanked the area, though even they looked more like attendees than enforcers tonight. King Orion, Queen Rosarya, and Princess Briar stood among the crowd, hands folded respectfully as though in the presence of divinity.

Maelis and the others, hearts hammering, finally reached a house near the edge of the clearing overflowing with people outside—talking, crying, celebrating. The crowd was too thick.
"Move!" Maelis snapped, pushing her way through the throng. "Let us through!”

"Make way!" Idris barked, shoving through. "We’re with the God Witch!"

That drew some startled looks, and a few angry mutters, but the crowd parted—barely. They stumbled inside the house, breathing heavily.

And there she was.

Aurora.

Seated in a cushioned chair, draped in blankets, her skin pale but glowing in the lamplight. Her emerald eyes were ringed with fatigue and confusion, but they were open. Alive. Alert. Around her stood Malakai, Elara, Soraya, Daphne, and Morpheus—each of them watching her like she might vanish again.

"Aurora!" Maelis shrieked.

Aurora turned, eyes widening.

Maelis lunged forward and flung herself into Aurora’s arms. The impact almost knocked her out of the chair.

"Oh my gods, I missed you so much," Maelis sobbed, clutching her tightly. "I didn’t—I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again."

Idris followed next, swallowing hard as he crouched beside them and grasped Aurora’s hand. "You have no idea the hell we’ve been through trying to wake you."

Morgan placed a gentle kiss to her forehead. Selene, quieter than the others, slipped in and squeezed Aurora's shoulder.

Tears sprang into Aurora’s eyes. Her voice was raspy and soft, barely a whisper. "I don't even remember being gone, but I'm happy you're all here."

They clung to her for a long time. The room filled with quiet sobs and heartfelt murmurs. Outside, fireworks painted the sky in golden arcs.

Eventually, Selene pulled back, her voice unsteady but smiling. "Darius did it. He brought back the Bloom. He woke you up."

Suddenly, the room turned cold.

Aurora blinked.

"What? What are you talking about?"

Selene tilted her head. "Darius. Don’t you remember? He—"

Aurora's brows furrowed deeply. "Darius didn’t wake me up. Come to think of it..." She glanced around. "Where is he? I haven’t seen him since I woke."

A slow, dawning confusion crawled across everyone’s faces.

"Wait…" Morgan said, his brows knitting. "If Darius didn’t wake you… then who did?”

The door creaked.

Everyone turned.

A tall silhouette entered, backlit by the soft glow of lanterns. A hush fell over the room as Alexander stepped forward, his blue eyes landing on Maelis, Idris, Selene and Morgan.

With anger and disdain laced in her voice Maelis said in a cold, low voice.

“You…”