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She swung around to find a brand new plank appearing before her eyes. Relief flooded her, and she leaned back against Midnight, the tension in her muscles finally easing. But then a gust of wind blew through the forest, carrying a faint whisper to her ears. Aurora spun around, searching for the source of the sound, but there was no one there.
The ghostly hush of the night was pierced by a deafening bell ringing out from the dark sky, signaling the arrival of someone new into the Dreamworld.
A thick fog rose from the ground, swirling in the air and creating a sphere of mystical energy. Stepping forward, the air charged around her body and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.
Aurora knew the portal would take her to the stranger who had arrived in the Dreamworld. With a deep breath, she mounted Midnight, feeling a renewed sense of determination.
With one last glance toward the looming tower with its taunting secrets, Aurora plunged into the swirling mist, disappearing into the fog.
TRISTAN
Tristan sat in the council chamber, surrounded by his closest advisors. Yet, he could not keep his thoughts from drifting to the Dreamworld and all the revelations he’d discovered there. He thought of the blonde-haired woman with the face like an angel but who fought like a warrior.
A heavy silence hung in the air, and Tristan burned under the heated stares of the men, all looking at him expectantly.
Tristan cleared his throat and shifted his weight in his seat. The squeak of the creaky floor echoed around the dimly lit chamber.
“Your Majesty, I must inform you that the situation is reaching a critical point. Our neighboring villages have decided to remain neutral and aren’t willing to lend their support to our cause. Therefore, no one has volunteered. If we are to fight Midas’ army, we need more men. This can mean only one thing.”
Tristan inhaled deeply and slowly as a weight pressed down on his chest.
“What are you suggesting?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
The old man leaned forward to give him a steely look and jabbed the table with his index finger. “We send out a declaration that every man of age must sign up and fight.”
Tristan scanned the faces around the table as the other advisors murmured and nodded in agreement. The notion went against everything he stood for: free will.
Another advisor raised a hand as he sat back in his seat. “It is what your father would have done.”
Tristan’s jaw clenched as his stomach knotted at the words. He supposed the man was of the opinion that they were words of comfort. But they were the opposite. They were a painful reminder that his father was not there to guide him anymore.
Midas’ army was great in number. Tristan could not roll over and allow his kingdom to perish under his rule.
“I took the liberty of writing the order, you only need to sign it.” The advisor on his right handed over a piece of parchment and a quill.
Sighing, Tristan dipped the quill into the inkwell and signed his name on the line. Then he rose to his feet and stormed out of the chamber without another word.
Walking through the bustling halls of the palace, he watched as the courtiers went about to get everything ready for the ball. The one where he would need to find a wife. He wasn’t even sure what he needed in a partner. Should she be more beautiful than vain? Kind and gentle, or strong enough to make a good queen?
He hadn’t given much thought to those details, for he knew that once true love struck him, he would simply know, without a shadow of a doubt. But that was when he could afford to wait for true love to find him. Now, time was up. He needed to search for it himself, before he was stuck choosing someone for the sake of the kingdom and not his heart. Tristan knew it would be a difficult process of finding the perfect match, but he still had hope. Why couldn’t he have both?
The face of the beautiful guardian of the Dreamworld surfaced in his mind. Her piercing brown eyes and luscious golden hair haunted him like a fever dream. Though he knew it was dangerous and foolish to go back, his skin burned with an insatiable desire to see her again.
Once in his room, he took what was left of the sundrop flower tonic and gulped it down before his mind could talk him out of it.
With every gulp, a wave of heat overtook him until his body grew heavy. He fell onto his bed, his skin like a smoldering campfire. As he closed his eyes, he plunged into nothingness, consumed by his desire for what felt forbidden: to see the guardian one more time.
When Tristan opened his eyes, he was laying in grass and dirt, surrounded by tall, looming trees. The rays of morning light peeked through their leaves like stars. Birds chirped above his head, and somewhere to the distance, the surf rolled over the shores, reminding him of home. He pushed himself to a seated position, then stood. The salty scent of the ocean filled his lungs as he followed the sound of the waves to a secluded beach.
Tristan squinted through the morning sunlight and made out two figures sitting side by side on the sand. As he moved closer, he realized they were his parents—his mother in her favorite yellow sundress and his father in a white cotton shirt. It had been so long since Tristan had seen his father so relaxed. And the sight of his mother was like a jackhammer to the heart. It had been too long since she passed away.
Two little boys played with their fishing nets at the shore—Tristan and Ryke as kids. His heart swelled to see them so carefree, but then the sound of a dried-up leaf crunched behind him and he turned around.
There stood the blonde guardian of the Dreamworld, peeking at him from behind a palm tree where the jungle met the sand.
She stepped out from behind the tree with a puzzled look and approached him, her hand resting on something concealed under her cloak.
“You’re back,” she muttered, her brows furrowed.
