Edward's eyes fluttered open—except they didn't.

He was awake, but everything around him looked wrong. The elven city stretched before him, yet it was different—distorted, as though submerged underwater.

Colours were pale and bleeding into one another, the once-vibrant greens and silvers reduced to a dull grey wash. Every sound was muffled—the soft hum of wind, the rustle of trees, even his own breathing felt distant, as if coming from behind glass.

He tried to move, but his body didn't respond. Or rather, it did, just not in any way that made sense. His legs didn't step. Instead, his body flowed, gliding effortlessly through the ground as though gravity had forgotten him. When he brushed against a wall, his arm slipped through it like mist.

"What…" he whispered—or thought he did. The words didn't leave his lips, but they echoed inside the silence all the same.

He drifted through the city, passing through trees, stones, and lanterns that glowed faintly in the gloom. The whole world pulsed with an eerie stillness, as though time itself had stopped.

Then he saw them.

Tiny, faintly luminous shapes drifting through the air—small, almost invisible orbs of light, like fireflies trapped beneath a veil. They hovered near the buildings and walkways, moving in loose, uncertain paths. Edward's eyes, or whatever he had in place of eyes, widened.

"What are those?" he wondered.

The orbs turned toward him, faint sparks of awareness flaring within their glow.

For a brief second, they seemed curious, almost drawn to him. Then, all at once, they scattered—dashing away in every direction, their light streaking through the foggy air.

"Huh—why are they running away?" he thought, reaching out.

He looked down at his hand. Or where his hand should've been. Instead, he saw a dark silhouette—a black, shifting outline that pulsed faintly with shadows. The shape of his arm blurred, twisting and merging into an amorphous darkness that seemed alive, like smoke bound by invisible threads.

"What the—"

Before he could finish, the world blinked out.

A surge of cold ran through him. Darkness swallowed the city whole.

Then, with a sharp gasp, Edward jolted upright.

He was back in the old elf's hut.

Wood creaked beneath him as he scrambled to his feet, heart hammering against his ribs.

His eyes darted across the room—the shelves lined with herbs, the faint steam rising from the still-warm teacups. At the table sat the old elf, serene as before, his eyes still closed, but a faint smile rested on his lips.

"What the hell was that?!" Edward barked, between his ragged breathing. "What did you give me?"

The old elf sighed, shaking his head slowly. "Just like last time," he muttered under his breath, "it never works on humans."

Edward frowned. "What did you just say?"

"Nothing, nothing," the elf said, waving it off. But Edward wasn't done.

"What was that place?" he pressed.

The old elf froze. For someone of his apparent age, he moved with surprising speed, rising to his feet almost instantly. His once-calm expression broke into something wide-eyed and incredulous.

"That place?" he repeated. "Wait—did you…?"

Then, to Edward's utter confusion, the old elf began laughing.

"I can't believe it!" he exclaimed, nearly doubling over. "You saw it? You actually saw the Spirit Realm?"

Edward blinked. "Spirit… realm?" he repeated, his face twisting into a look of disbelief. "What are you talking about?"

The elf's laughter continued, rich and unrestrained, echoing through the small hut.

"I waited centuries for this!" he said between his laughs, voice full of a manic joy.

Edward took a slow step back.

"I guess elves can be crazy too," he thought grimly, staring at the old lunatic.

When the laughter finally subsided, the old elf leaned forward eagerly.

"What did you see? Tell me—tell me everything."

Edward hesitated. Part of him wanted to walk out immediately. But there was something about the old elf's sheer excitement, his genuine curiosity, that softened his suspicion.

Against his better judgment, he spoke.

"Nothing much," he said slowly. "I floated around the city. Everything looked… faded, like it was underwater. Then I saw these tiny orbs of light, glowing around me. They seemed to notice me but ran away the moment I came close."

The elf's grin faded. His brows furrowed, expression turning thoughtful.

"Run away from you?" he murmured. "How curious. They usually swarm every elf they see… Could they tell you're human?"

He seemed to ponder the thought deeply, muttering to himself more than to Edward.

"Listen, old—"

"Thyrion," the elf interrupted gently. "You can call me Thyrion, young man. And you are?"

"Edward," he replied reluctantly. "I'm here with Prince Arthur's convoy."

"Prince… Arthur?" Thyrion tilted his head, confusion clear on his face. "Who's that?"

Edward stared. "You don't know who Prince Arthur is? The human prince?"

The two of them lingered in silence, an awkward stillness filling the space.

Finally, Thyrion chuckled. "No matter," he said with a dismissive wave. "Here, have more tea. We should try again, and perhaps—"

"I don't have time for this," Edward cut in sharply. "I have matters to attend to. I'll see you around."

He wasn't sure why he added that last part—politeness, maybe—but he had no intention of drinking that tea again.

Without hesitation, he moved toward the door.

"Oh, well," Thyrion called after him, still cheerful, "do come when you have time—"

But Edward was already gone, stepping out into the moonlit night.

He exhaled deeply, his eyes looking around searching for his chambers. "Where the hell is that—"

Then he stopped mid-sentence. Ahead of him stretched a familiar path, lit faintly by glowing roots and lantern vines.

"Huh," he muttered, eyebrows lifting. "Finally!"

He followed the path without delay, moving quickly through the quiet streets. The earlier disorientation faded with each step, replaced by relief as he recognised the carved arches and woven bridges.

Before long, his chambers came into view.

He reached the door within moments and stepped inside, a satisfied grin tugging at his lips.

But the grin vanished when he saw Arthur standing in the middle of the room.

"Seems like the investigation took quite long," Arthur said, his tone light but his eyes sharp.

"Yeah," Edward replied, unwilling to admit he'd been lost for over an hour.

"Any findings?" the prince asked.

"Nothing much," Edward answered. "Just a name. Vael, or something like that."

Arthur folded his arms. "Well, it's better than nothing." He paused, studying Edward closely. "But you seem… a little disoriented."

Edward blinked, realising how unsteady his focus still felt. His surroundings had a faint haze, like echoes of the other realm still clinging to him.

"I'm fine," he said after a moment. "Just getting used to the new environment, that's all."

Arthur gave him a long, assessing look before nodding.

"Very well, I will get some rest, you should too," he said.

"Right," Edward replied, as Arthur turned away and left toward his room.

Edward lingered for a moment, his mind drifting back to the old elf's words.

Spirit Realm.

Could that really have been what he saw?

"No," he muttered quietly to himself, shaking the thought away. "He's just some crazy old hermit."

How could a cup of tea send him to another realm? It was absurd.

And yet… the memory of those glowing orbs lingered, bright and real in the back of his mind.

Soon after, he too went into his own room.

He let himself collapse onto the bed, the soft fabrics wrapping around him like clouds. His eyes grew heavy, exhaustion claiming him with each passing moment.

Then, the moment his eyes closed, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

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