EverRealm

Alysia

Elora's eyes snapped open to a world tilted sideways. Cold stone bit into her cheek, and for a long moment, she couldn't understand why the sky was a narrow strip of gray above her or why her entire body sang with pain. Then she shifted her weight and her hand scraped empty air.

Her breath hitched. She twisted her head, and the sight sent ice through her veins: a sheer drop inches from her fingertips, ending in white water that snarled and roared three stories below. She'd caught herself on a ledge barely wider than her own body, her legs still dangling over the void.

Her immediate thought went to Cedric.

"Cedric?" Her voice came out rough, barely audible over the river's fury. "Sofia? Clover?"

Nothing. No answer. No sound at all except the water's relentless hunger and the wind howling through the gorge.

She dragged herself backward, inch by inch. Every movement was a war. Her palms bled where the stone teeth tore into them, and her right ankle screamed when she tried to bend it. *Not broken,* she told herself, *just angry.* But the pain was a live thing, clawing up her leg. When her boots finally found solid ground, she collapsed against the cliff face, chest heaving. Cold sweat plastered her hair to her forehead.

That's when the pain hit—a crushing vise behind her eyes, radiating from a tender spot on her temple where something had struck her. She probed it gently and hissed. Sticky warmth. Blood.

The world tilted. Not from the height, but from inside her own skull. The gorge spun. For a heartbeat, she thought she might vomit over the edge. She squeezed her eyes shut, breathing through her nose, counting the seconds until the dizziness passed.

They'd been crossing the gorge to sneak into the castle. The rope bridge had snapped. She remembered Cedric's shout, Sofia's scream. Then nothing but air and rushing wind.

And with that memory came others, pushing through the cracks in her mind like water through a broken dam. Not gentle, but insistent. Demanding to be seen.

Her father's voice, clear and steady, speaking a name she hadn't heard in months.

"Alysia."

It was her name. Not Elora, the temporary shelter Cedric and Sofia had given her. Alysia. Princess. Firstborn daughter. The girl who'd run from a kingdom she never wanted to rule and a sister who now wanted her dead.

The realization stole her breath. She pressed a bleeding palm against the cold stone, grounding herself.

She was Alysia.

The palace gardens shimmered under the glow of fireflies, their tiny lights flickering like stars plucked from the sky. Elora sat beside Vana on a marble bench, the scent of night-blooming jasmine thick in the air. For once, there was no competition between them— just two sisters sharing a quiet moment, their shoulders nearly touching.

Vana twirled a lock of her dark hair around her finger, staring at the moon. "Do you ever wonder what it would be like?" she murmured.

Elora tilted her head, her forest-green eyes warm. "What *what* would be like?"

"Ruling," Vana said simply. "Sitting on the throne. Making decisions for everyone."

Elora chuckled, bumping her shoulder playfully against her sister's. "Honestly? I think you'd be great at it. Better than me, at least."

Vana snorted but didn't argue. Instead, she smirked. "You just don't want the responsibility."

"Guilty," Elora admitted, grinning.

A comfortable silence settled between them. Neither of them knew then how quickly everything would change.

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