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“Am I supposed to be scared?” he spat, as though he was insulted more than afraid, but the whites of his eyes said otherwise.
“I am not here to instill fear,” Tristan said. “I’ve come to seek peace.”
Midas held out his hand. “If it’s the end of the war that you seek, consider it done.”
But Tristan didn’t take the king’s hand. “One more thing,” he said.
“What else could you possibly want?” Midas asked gruffly.
Tristan met his hard stare and stood his ground. He was determined to show no fear, despite the knowledge that with a single touch, the king could turn him into another golden statue for the palace.
“Your daughter’s freedom,” Tristan finally said.
Midas’ eyes widened for a flicker of a moment, but then he scoffed. “You must be mistaken. My daughter has perished. Long ago.”
Tension grew inside of Tristan as he gritted his teeth. “Aurora is alive and well, sleeping away somewhere in this castle, while her mind is in a dream world far away.”
Midas’ face grew blotchy, and he took a step back as though Tristan had struck him.
“How could you possibly know that?” he asked, wavering.
The reaction gave Tristan the strength to press further. So, Aurora was indeed kept in the castle. And Midas knew where she was. It was the confirmation he needed.
“Because I have been there. I have met her. And I have come to awaken her.”
Midas opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. Finally, he cleared his throat and wagged a dangerous finger in the air. “You come into my home, threaten my throne, and have the audacity to demand a marriage alliance? Have you gone mad, young man?”
“I am not demanding a marriage alliance,” Tristan clarified, keeping calm despite the situation. “I only wish to awaken her and grant her freedom. If she chooses to accept a marriage proposal from me, that will be her choice, not a business transaction.”
“My daughter will not leave this castle unless I have that vial,” Midas spat.
Tristan rounded his shoulders and gave Midas a furious look. “You will not have this vial until you grant her freedom. Otherwise, you can say goodbye to your powers.”
The two kings locked eyes, a battle of wills playing out in the silence of the throne room. The balance of power had shifted, and the outcome of that confrontation would shape the fate of their kingdoms.
But finally, Midas inclined his head. “Fine. I’ll take you to her.”
The castle’s stone walls seemed to close in on Tristan as he followed Midas to Aurora’s chamber. Every step he took echoed back to him, amplifying the weight of the silence that filled the vast hallways.
As he walked, the golden statues became more frequent, each one more lifelike than the last. It was as if they had been frozen in time, their expressions capturing the exact moment of their transformation. A young maiden with her hand outstretched, perhaps reaching for a loved one; a knight with his sword drawn, forever locked in a battle that he would never finish; a child, no older than ten, with a look of sheer terror etched onto his face. The number of them was overwhelming, and Tristan couldn’t help but shudder at the thought of the power that Midas wielded.
Here and there, animals too had been turned to gold. A hawk, wings spread as if in mid-flight, its eyes capturing a moment of surprise. A cat, its back arched and fur standing on end. An artistry of nature.
Whispers seemed to emanate from the walls themselves, tales of those who had dared defy Midas and paid the ultimate price. The air grew colder, and a sense of foreboding settled over Tristan. Every corner he turned, he half expected Midas to turn around and strike, adding him to his collection.
But Aurora was within those walls, and he would not leave without her. The thought of her gave him strength. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they reached her bedroom at the very top—at the tower of the golden castle. The heavy wooden door stood before him, carved with elaborate designs and inlaid with gold. Midas stood aside and looked at Tristan pointedly.
Taking a deep breath, Tristan pushed it open, praying that he was not too late. The chamber was a vision of serenity. High, arched windows let in the gentle glow of the moon, casting a silvery sheen over everything. In the very center, he spotted Millie. Her delicate fairy wings were frozen mid-flutter. Her purple hair, which usually flowed like a cascade of lavender waterfalls, had turned solid gold, capturing each strand in meticulous detail. The expression on her face was one of surprise, perhaps even anger, her eyes wide and lips parted as if she had been caught in the midst of uttering a warning.
But it was Aurora who truly captured Tristan’s attention. She lay in the center of the room on an ornate bed with carved posts and draped silks. Her soft golden hair flowed like a river of sunlight, spilling over the silk pillow and cascading down her shoulders, contrasting beautifully with her pale skin. Her hands were placed neatly together on her chest, fingers entwined, as if in prayer. The soft pink gown she wore clung to her form, its delicate lace and intricate embroidery making her look every bit the princess she was. The fabric shimmered with every breath she took, making it seem as though she was encased in a halo of light.
Her face was the epitome of peace. Long lashes rested on her cheeks, and her lips, though devoid of color, held a softness that made Tristan yearn to touch them. She looked so fragile, so ethereal, that for a moment, he was afraid to approach, fearing that the mere act might shatter her.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped closer, the weight of what he had to do pressing down on him. She was the perfect princess—a sleeping beauty of legends—and he’d come to awaken her.
Tristan leaned over her, the scent of wildflowers enveloping him. The fate of their two worlds hinged on that single act. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and pressed his lips to hers. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for a sign, a miracle.
But nothing happened.
