Twin brothers Frei and Qionne are separated by a cursed mirror. The younger is forced to shoulder the burden of the throne, while the older must learn to have courage and return to his world. In their wake is an empire at the brink of war, and a dar...
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Frost crept over every leaf, every, branch, and every twig. It covered the forests of Torinhime like a shroud, cloaking the land in crystal blue and white. The sounds of clashing magic turned into distant memory, filling Frei's ears with a soothing, humming noise.
Ishra e saeth sela
Stoe eseth sae
Ishra so el saeth sela
Stoe eseth sae
With the winter wonderland came a woman dressed in ice and snow. She stepped out from the fog creeping through the trees, her flowing skirts billowing with the wind. Each fiber on the fabric of her gown shimmered like glitter, frost embellishing the pleats in swirling, floral patterns. From the jeweled diadem on her flaxen hair to the glass-like slippers that adorned her feet, it seemed like her entirety was crafted from the cold. Frei tried to study the woman's face, but the fog hid her image from view. All he recognized was the color of her eyes: blue, like the way light bounced off the glaciers of Enox.
Ishra e saeth sela
Stoe eseth sae
Ishra so el saeth sela
Stoe eseth sae
As the woman drew nearer, Frei's shivering became worse. His every exhale came out in smoky-white clouds, and Frei felt the urge to bite his lip in an attempt to resist the chill. He wrapped his arms tighter around Lucca, who strangely seemed unaffected by the winter air.
Ishra e saeth sela
Stoe eseth sae
Ishra so el saeth sela
Stoe eseth sae
And he heard the meaningless accents of the elves of old. Frei remembered it being called the Song of Maya, for history writ that she sang the hymn to the fey of the elder days. They've been taught it in order to command the oldest, most powerful spirits of earth and air, to save them in times of need. It was a song that no mere human could understand nor learn, that only the children of the elven folk could sing and hear. A psalm that only the fey folk would be able to comprehend.
Frei felt his lips move, his voice compelled to sing the meaningless song.
"Ishra e saeth sela," he murmured, slightly off key. "Stoe eseth sae."
The woman was suddenly before him, peering down at him with her cold, blank stare.
