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I swallowed hard as the grand structure loomed closer. Intricate statues and carvings adorned the black stone walls, each one a depiction of a heroic figure from Manzimors history. All of them Elves.
Despite the details, the Mentom looked nothing like the other buildings in the city. It was more primal, more... natural. Its shape was that of a noble tree, its roots and branches reaching out in all directions. Sea-green vines crawled up its walls, reaching for the sky.
As our carriage pulled up to the imposing entrance, the faces of the Mentom Guards stared down at us. There was no way to tell what they were thinking, their features hidden behind porcelain masks. Courtiers and other important-looking Elves milled about, many of them giving us curious glances.
This was it. The moment of truth.
The carriage door opened, and I stepped out, straightening my dress and taking a deep breath to steady myself. The circlet on my head felt heavy, a constant reminder of the weight of my responsibilities.
Darith turned to me. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
I nodded my head. “There’s no other way.”
To be the future wife of the crown prince was to be the perfect symbol of the Manzimor. I had to be strong, unyielding, and absolutely obedient to the will of the Aeglire. There could be no hint of weakness, no sign that I was anything less than the ideal wife to Prince Maedras. Powerful, but not power hungry.
This is what they expected of me. What was required of me.
I took another deep breath and squared my shoulders. “Let’s get this over with.”
Darith reached out and squeezed my hand. “I know, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. The Mentom twists a novice’s mind.”
“I’m here to intrigue the Mentom, not be twisted by it,” I said with more confidence than I felt.
A servant opened the door to the Mentom, and I took a step forward. I turned around, as the horseless carriage pulled away, as citizens, courtiers, and Mentom Guards all watched me enter. I smiled and waved, before turning back around and disappearing into the darkness of the Mentom.
The first thing that hit me was the smell. A mixture of incense and something else I couldn’t quite place. It was earthy, like moss or... dirt. Salt and sea air mixed in as well, giving the Mentom a unique smell that I would never forget.
As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I took in my surroundings. The sheer size of it took my breath away. The entrance hall was one giant room, with a high ceiling supported by thick tree trunks.
Stone floors had been carved out in a spiral pattern, leading towards the center of the room. Along the walls were shelves upon shelves of books, ancient tomes that looked like they had never been touched.
The second thing that hit me was the sound. There were hundreds of people inside, all talking at once. Masks obscured their features, but I saw the glitter of their eyes and the movement of their mouths. Laughter, shouting, and many sounds echoed through the Mentom, bouncing off the stone walls and floors. The Queen Mother had been right. This was a place of chaos.
But there was one sound that stood out above the rest. A deep, throaty singing. The voice was both masculine and feminine, rough and smooth all at the same time. It flowed over me like a river, pulling me in with its current. I couldn’t help but be drawn towards it.
The voice belonged to an Elf standing in the center of the room, on a raised platform. He was tall, with long silver hair that fell down his back. His skin was pale, almost translucent. And his eyes... his eyes were black as night, with no pupils or whites to be seen. He wore a simple black robe with a hood that obscured his features. In one hand, he held a staff with a crystal ball on top of it, and in the other, a branch.
He sang, and as he did, the crystal ball glowed brightly. Images appeared within it. I saw myself heavy with child, surrounded by people I didn’t know. Bloodstained hands, a city in ruins, a dragon flying overhead. So many images, too many to process.
The song ended, and the crystal ball went dark. The Elf’s eyes met mine, and I felt a chill run down my spine. There was something about him that was...off. Something that made my skin crawl.
Darith grabbed my arm and pulled me away. “Are you okay? You didn’t move or say anything.”
I turned my head, and the Elf was gone. In his place was a woman with bright red hair and an equally bright red dress. She was laughing and talking with the people around her, as if she had been there the whole time.
I shook my head, trying to clear it. “I’m fine. Just... a little overwhelmed. The beauty of the Mentom is breathtaking, but the chaos is a bit much.”
“Yes, it can be. But you’ll get used to it. Just be careful and don’t let yourself get lost in the noise.”
A vision of the Elf’s black eyes flashed through my mind, and I nodded. I would be careful. I had to be. My last vision showed me my death, and I wasn’t ready to die just yet.
This vision, however, showed me something else. Something that I couldn’t quite decipher. The symbolism was there, but the meaning was just out of reach. It could mean my status as a newcomer could lead to the end of Manzimor. Or maybe be what saves it.
It didn’t even have to be about me. It could be anyone.
The dragon could be a symbol of change, or death. The newborn could be hope, or a new beginning. Too many possibilities, and not enough answers.
The Queen Mother stood at the far end of the hall, surrounded by Guild members and Mentom officials.
