As a thunderous CRACK split the night, Eydis stumbled, the very ground beneath her feet groaning in protest. Her heart hammered against her ribs, mimicking the thrumming of molten rock visible through a fissure in the earth.

Crimson lava writhed, devouring everything in its path. The stench of sulphur mingled with the metallic scent of blood.

She knew it was a dream, a version of hell described in countless stories, as she walked on a field of dancing flames unscathed. Yet, amidst the chaos, she recognised the majestic ranges, the once-pristine castle now reduced to rubble, and the house crest, consumed by hellfire. The once-proud arctic fox, symbol of nobility and grace, now bore the mark of the flames.

The noble house crumbled to dust, the immaculate snowy landscape being replaced by a sea of red, distant screams echoing through the woods. 

Turning towards the faint sound, she could see a solitary figure in the distance, a man cloaked in blood, clutching a severed head. His silver hair streaked with ashes, eyes gleaming with murderous glee. He licked the blood from his hand, a twisted grin stretching across his face. 

Theomund.

The enigmatic ice prince has vanished, leaving behind a shell who now exuded a savage demeanour akin to that of a ruthless killer. 

Discarding the remains of his victim, Lionel, he advanced towards her.

"You cannot alter what's destined to unfold."

A jolt ripped her from the nightmare, leaving her heart drumming frantically, cold sweat beaded on her forehead. 

Captain Robin stood by the bed, his usual stoicism tinged with unease. His presence did little to soothe the cold dread twisting in her gut.

"Bad dreams?" he asked.

Eydis scowled. "You could say that.” 

Her gaze fell on Captain Robin, his steadied breathing was a reassurance that his gruesome fate was a figment of her dream. 

Captain Robin stood at the threshold, his face unreadable. "I must admit, Miss Eydis,I'm not quite sure how to feel about dying in your dream. I thought our relationship was rather...amicable." He spoke in a light tone, seemingly trying to alleviate her inner turmoil. 

"Whatever it is, Captain Lionel Robin, there must be a reason why you’re here, in my chamber." She emphasised, “…at night?”

“It's...about the Pr- Lady Athena," he blurts out. "She, uh, fainted."

"And what precisely does this 'incident' have to do with me, Captain?

Robin shifted uncomfortably. "It seems…your presence can have…unforeseen consequences, Miss Eydis."

What did he mean? Was he suggesting she was somehow responsible for the princess's fainting? The accusation was outrageous, laughable.

"I understand your frustration but...wait, you knew she was a princess?" Captain asked, startled.

"Of course," Eydis response, her gaze sharp. "Anyone with half a brain could tell she's royalty."

Sensing the captain’s unease, Eydis pressed, "So you come barging into my chamber in the dead of night, accusing me of what? Witchcraft?"

Robin flinched. "No, Miss Eydis, please. Duke Whitlock wants to see you immediately. He has questions."

He exited the room as she stumbled to her feet, hair cascading over her knees like an unruly waterfall. Her long fringe dipped across her eyes, blurring the edges of the unfamiliar room. It was an absurd shield, especially considering the curse's ability to pierce through any flimsy attempts at concealment. 

No, what she needed was clarity, a return to the sharp focus of Amelie Kruger, a name she hadn't dared utter in front of these strangers.

A week since waking. A week of silence on the topic of magic, despite the Duke's daily visits. His conversations steered to politics, history, anything but the power that pulsed beneath the surface of this cage. 

It wasn't enough. 

She craved the library's dusty whispers, the secrets hidden within leather-bound spines. But magic remained elusive. She needed answers, needed to understand the extent of their power, the limitations hidden within their so-called 'elements'. Factions, she thought, a more apt term than the fanciful labels they clung to.

To Eydis, elements weren't mere magic, weren’t fire or water nonsense. They were the universe's whispered secrets, forged in the fiery crucibles of stars.

True elements.

Hydrogen, helium, lithium - the primordial trio that birthed a symphony of elements, scattered like stardust across the cosmic canvas. Life's inception found its root in these elements, nurtured by the Earth's gentle embrace. From single-celled whispers to the grand symphony of existence, we shared a lineage with the first stars, children of the Big Bang's chaotic dance. 

We were cosmic accidents, yet inevitable masterpieces, painted onto the canvas of time by aeons of intricate chemical choreography.

That was her conviction, a perspective both poignant and poetic. It carried her through bouts of darkness, periods tainted by depression and existential questionings. She remembered wandering through countless landscapes, seeking for a purpose, delving deeper into a world where kindness was as scarce as precious jewels, and humanity unveiled the depths of its cruelty. 

Yet, her solace, forged in the fiery crucibles of stars, shattered against the cold marble floor of this magical palace. No longer were elements mere whispers of creation, but tools in a celestial game orchestrated by a divine hand. Humans, not children of the Big Bang, were flawed puppets sculpted by an inscrutable God, some gifted with powers beyond mortal comprehension. Why, if divinity truly reigned, did it allow such darkness to consume its own creations?

An insistent rapping on the door startled Eydis from her reverie. A moment later, Sophie, a maid with kind eyes and calloused hands, bustled in, carrying a steaming bucket of water. The air, infused with the comforting scent of chamomile and lavender, instantly soothed Eydis' furrowed brow.

 "My lady," Sophie chirped, "your bath awaits."

Eydis was then dressed in a flowing gown of deep gentle ivory silk. The suede bodice, fitted and tailored to accentuate her form, was made of a rich brocade woven with threads of gold. The ensemble was completed with round-cut clear quartz, a touch Sophie insisted upon despite her protest. Her shoulders were draped with a thick, white fur coat before she ventured out of her room to meet her escort.

The captain regarded her with discerning eyes as he guided her towards the Duke's study - a task he had performed regularly over the past week. 

They exchanged greetings with Duke Whitlock before settling in their usual positions in the room. Eydis took her place across from the duke on the sofa, while the captain stood near the fireplace, ensuring the flames burned steadily. She couldn't help but wonder why the Duke had chosen an Inferno-born as his aid, rather than someone of Silverkeep's lineage. Perhaps he sought the warmth the Captain provided as one of the perks. 

The captain muttered something in annoyance, heat clearly reached his ears, while the Duke continued to regard her with a charming gaze, seemingly unfazed by her teasing. "Her Royal Highness, I trust the news of her collapse in your room hasn't been too jarring?"

Eydis, feigning ignorance, met his gaze with cool eyes. "Your Grace, I was lost in slumber. This news is as foreign to me as the night sky."

The Duke's smile deepened. "No concern, Miss Eydis. No accusations are aimed at you. Her visit to your room was witnessed by her maid, who recounted the incident." He paused, gauging her reaction. The anger that had flared in her heart moments ago simmered down, replaced by worry.

"Is the Princess well?" she asked. 

"Your concern is appreciated, Miss Eydis," the Duke said smoothly. "According to the maid, Princess Athena, fueled by curiosity, sought you out to glimpse your future."

"My future?" she echoed, amber eyes widening with a flicker of intrigue. "Is that a power of the divines?"

Duke Theomund cleared his throat, smoothing his impeccably tailored coat. "Indeed, Miss Eydis," he said. "Though most imperial descendants inherit healing magic, Princess Athena possesses a rare gift – the ability to glimpse the future, not just her own, but anyone she touches."

"Does she faint every time, Your Grace?"

Theo forced a smile. "Princess Athena's mana," he said, choosing his words carefully, "is formidable. Perhaps even stronger now."

"I suppose I shall have to wait for the Princess to awaken then," Eydis replied. "Magic, after all, is far beyond my simple understanding."

Theo felt a pang of guilt. He'd promised answers, yet held back the very knowledge she craved. A selfish desire to keep her sheltered under his watchful gaze. To hide her brilliance from the world. Despite Eydis' exceptional wits, she was powerless in this world. 

He watched her from the corner of his eye, her brow furrowed in contemplation. Was it anger alone that shadowed her eyes, or something deeper, something hidden?

"It was simply my duty to inform you, Miss Eydis."

A light knock on the door punctuated their conversation. Captain Robin excused himself before returning shortly, face brimming with joy.

"Your Grace, Princess Athena is awake!"