Sophie didn't fit in the lost cities. Everyone knew that. Whispers and stares followed her everywhere. All she wanted to do was belong. She longed to belong in the human world. She longed to belong in the elven world. And she did belong somewhere, l...
Oralie and Bronte walked through the dungeon. Not Exile. No, the dungeon they were walking through had a longer history. Some would say a darker one. The only thing breaking the thick silence that hung was the sound of footsteps. The click of glass heels against the uneven stone floor.
"Oralie, Bronte, you're here" Emery's velvet voice booms. Even here, his voice carries that sense of authority. Their eyes snap to him.
"Yes," Bronte says, "It would appear so"
Emery's eyes trail from them to the figure in front of them, Oralie's and Bronte's gaze following.
"Can she hear us?" Oralie asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Emery shook his head. "Nor can she see us. It's a thing humans use. A one way mirror"
"After all these years, she still looks the same," Bronte said, walking closer and placing his palm on the glass. "Not the slightest bit troubled"
"What do we do?" Oralie asked.
Emery shook his head, looking at Bronte.
"They shouldn't exist" Bronte said, throat bobbing. He takes a pendant out of his pocket. "This shouldn't exist."
Emery took the pendant, examining it closely.
It was silent for a while before Bronte spoke again. " Their magic was meant to be forgotten long ago"
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