"He who seeks truth must walk unguarded."
The stars had long faded from the skies over Dwargon when Elmesia leaned against the balcony rail of her guest chamber, the city below silent in the hush of night. Erald Grimwald stood beside her, arms crossed, his cloak fluttering gently in the mountain breeze.
"Elmesia," he said softly, "you've been quiet since our meeting with Gazel."
She didn't turn, her silver hair brushing the polished stone. "I've made a decision. Tomorrow, I leave for Nyvaris."
Erald blinked. "Alone?"
"Yes." Her voice was firm, carrying that unmistakable royal conviction. "If I bring a royal escort, or demand audience as a monarch, I risk being rejected by the barrier. I want to see the city and its people with my own eyes—not through ceremony or protocol."
He was silent for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "I understand. Then allow me to escort you to the border, at least."
She smiled softly. "Of course. I'd expect nothing less from you, Erald."
The Next Morning
The sun was still young when Elmesia and Erald soared over green fields and misty hills. Their cloaks trailed behind them like banners caught in the wind. The silence between them wasn't tense—it was respectful. Both understood the gravity of what lay ahead.
After a few hours of flight, Nyvaris came into view.
Elmesia's breath caught.
A vast, shimmering barrier wrapped the city in an almost sacred light. The skyline was unlike anything she'd seen—curving towers that looked carved from moonstone, vast trees whose canopies shimmered with bioluminescent leaves, and a soft golden glow that bathed the entire land. But what struck her most was the long line of people gathered at the city's entrance—hundreds, maybe thousands, from all corners of the world.
Erald frowned slightly. "Even nobles and emissaries must wait in line?"
Elmesia descended slowly toward the ground. "That's precisely why I came this way."
They landed without a word, blending into the end of the queue. Elmesia drew a simple veil over her face—not magic, just a cloth. The crowd was diverse: humans, beastkin, lizardmen, ogres, elves, even giants. The line buzzed with quiet conversation.
A dwarf behind them muttered to his companion, "Third time I'm trying. That barrier's picky, I tell ya."
A harpy nearby whispered, "They say if you've got darkness in your soul, the barrier burns you back. Even nobles have been turned away."
Elmesia's ears caught every word. She observed quietly, absorbing the tension and hope in every passerby.
Erald leaned toward her. "Are you certain about going alone from here?"
She turned to him, touched his arm gently. "This is something I must do. Thank you, Erald."
He bowed low, fist to chest. "Be safe, my queen." Then, without further word, he departed into the sky.
The hours passed slowly. The line crawled forward. More rejections occurred—some sent back with no explanation, others wept or cursed the barrier. And then...
"Elmesia Aurelius," a smooth, almost theatrical voice called out.
She stepped forward.
Before her stood a tall man with obsidian hair, crimson eyes, and an immaculate black suit that defied dust or wear. A faint smirk played on his lips—equal parts charm and danger.
Diablo.
He dipped his head. "A rare visitor indeed. I didn't expect to see the great queen of Sarion in line like a common traveler."
Elmesia didn't flinch. "I came not as a queen. I came as someone curious. I've heard too many stories about Nyvaris… and the man who rules it."
His eyes twinkled. "Very well. That honesty is appreciated." He gestured gracefully toward the barrier. "You know the rules. No exceptions—not even for you. The barrier will judge your intent. If your heart is true, you may enter."
Elmesia turned to the glowing dome. She hesitated.
It was more than magic. She could feel it watching—probing her essence, her very being. Her regrets, her pride, her doubts. It was unnerving.
She raised a hand slowly.
The moment her fingers touched the surface, it shimmered. An iridescent pulse flowed over her hand. Then… silence.
No burn. No pushback. No resistance.
Diablo's smile widened slightly. "It seems the city has accepted you." He stepped aside and bowed. "Welcome to Nyvaris, Lady Elmesia."
She took a breath, squared her shoulders, and stepped through.
And the world changed.
Inside Nyvaris
The air was fresh—unnaturally so. Every breath felt rejuvenating.
Buildings shimmered with crystalline design, elegant yet functional. The roads weren't stone—they were organic, alive, flowing with faint magical veins. Shops lined the streets, selling goods she'd never seen. Children of all races ran laughing past dragonlings and fairies.
The city was alive. Not just living—but harmonious.
Elmesia wandered, marveling at the seamless blend of nature and architecture. The people didn't just co-exist—they thrived. Every corner turned offered a new wonder: levitating gardens, self-playing instruments, elemental beings helping sweep the streets.
She stopped by a flower shop where the petals hummed softly, reacting to emotion. She touched one. It glowed pale blue.
"A flower that sings," she whispered. "How?"
The vendor, a smiling dryad, chuckled. "They bloom with your heart, milady."
Hours passed without her realizing. The sun had shifted when a shadow flickered across the cobblestone.
She turned.
A man in deep blue stood before her. Clad in a sleek black vest, blades at his side, expression unreadable.
"Lady Elmesia," he said, bowing. "Lord Varvatos is expecting you."
She blinked. "How…?"
Souei didn't answer. He turned and began walking.
Elmesia narrowed her eyes but followed.
How did he know I was here? Did the barrier tell them? Or… does he know everything that happens in this city?
Either way, she had come seeking answers. And now, she was about to meet the man behind Nyvaris.
And perhaps, behind the future.
The room Souei brought her to was unlike any throne hall Elmesia had ever seen. It wasn't grand for the sake of opulence, nor did it radiate intimidation like most palatial chambers of power. No—this space exuded harmony, warmth, and power in perfect equilibrium. The soft hum of magic pulsed through the air like a heartbeat. The marble-like flooring gleamed faintly beneath her feet, reflecting soft golden light from floating orbs suspended midair. Ivy draped naturally from high-arched windows, and a stream of gentle water ran through the chamber, splitting the floor into two symmetrical halves.
Elmesia's jade eyes scanned everything with quiet wonder, but then they locked onto the figure standing at the end of the room—his presence demanded it.
He was tall, his form poised yet relaxed, dressed in dark robes that looked to be woven from both silk and shadow, the fabric occasionally catching the light and shimmering faintly like stars in the night. His long, silver hair was loosely tied, some strands framing a face too perfect to be mortal. But what struck Elmesia the most were his eyes. Deep, unreadable, yet calm—like a mirror that reflected nothing but made you question everything.
Varvatos turned, offering a small smile. "Welcome, Queen Elmesia of Sarion," he spoke, his voice low, smooth like wind over a quiet lake.
Elmesia smirked, placing one hand on her hip. "You're quite well-informed for someone who's notoriously difficult to reach."
"I find that those who approach my land with sincerity… deserve my attention," he replied, his eyes gently studying her. "You came alone. That speaks volumes."
She walked forward slowly, graceful, each step deliberate. "Royal processions are tedious. Too much noise. I wanted peace… and clarity. Nyvaris seems to offer both."
Varvatos nodded, then gestured to the cushioned divan near the flowing water. "Please, make yourself comfortable."
As she sat, she crossed her legs, her pale-blue-silver hair trailing over her shoulder like frost on a windowsill. "So… this is the legendary Lord of Nyvaris," she said, tone playful but eyes sharp. "You're not what I expected."
"And you are exactly what I expected, Queen Elmesia," he answered with equal calm, taking the seat opposite hers. "Sharp tongue. Gentle eyes. A crown with a thousand thoughts hidden behind each word."
She chuckled, amused. "Careful, my lord. Flatter me too much and I might forget I'm here on political business."
"I believe sincerity is the most effective form of diplomacy," Varvatos replied. "Why have you come?"
There was a pause. Elmesia broke eye contact for the first time, glancing at the stream. "There's… unrest in the world. After the fall of the Eastern Empire's tyranny, many nations are shaken. Yours is the only one that has remained untouched, stable, even flourishing. I've seen your streets, your people... elves, goblins, orcs, humans, dragons—all living together. It's no utopia, but it's close."
She turned back to him. "I want to understand what you've built. And perhaps... find a place for my people in this vision."
Varvatos didn't answer immediately. Instead, he studied her, searching deeper. "Your intentions are genuine. The barrier confirmed it."
"I left my titles and pride at the border," she murmured. "I came here simply as Elmesia."
He smiled softly. "And I welcome you as such."
Elmesia leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees, voice softer now. "You knew I would come, didn't you?"
"I had a feeling."
She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowed. "And what do you see now?"
Varvatos leaned back, one arm resting against the back of his seat. "I see a ruler with the weight of a nation behind her. But I also see a woman who's tired of veiled threats, empty alliances, and false pleasantries."
She blinked. Her lips curled slightly. "You read people like scripture."
"I listen. People tend to tell their truths if you let silence speak."
Elmesia let a beat of silence pass, the air between them charged with unspoken understanding.
"I'll be honest," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "When I saw you, I felt something. Your presence… it's overwhelming. Like the land itself bows to you. It's no wonder your people revere you."
Varvatos didn't flinch at the sudden change in tone. "And yet you did not."
A playful glint sparked in her eyes. "Would you prefer I bowed?"
He smiled faintly. "I prefer truth."
"Then the truth is," she leaned in slightly, her perfume mixing with the subtle scent of the room, "I'm intrigued. And not just politically."
He didn't look away. "Curiosity can be dangerous."
"So can isolation," she replied. "Which brings us back to why I came."
Varvatos stood, walking over to a shelf where a carafe of crystalline nectar sat cooling. He poured two glasses. "If you truly wish to understand Nyvaris, it won't come from a meeting like this." He handed her a glass. "Walk among the people. Stay. Watch how we live, not just how I speak."
Elmesia accepted the drink, her fingers brushing his slightly. "An invitation, then?"
"A welcome," he said.
She smiled slowly. "I suppose I could afford a few days away from the throne."
"I believe it'll be more than a few," Varvatos said, and for the first time, she saw the faintest flicker of amusement in his expression.
She raised her glass. "Then here's to sincerity… and curiosity."
He clinked his glass lightly against hers. "And to the unexpected."