Chapter 11 Whispers of Divine
1339 Words
In those earlier days before love became legend, before choices became fate. Morning returned once more to the palace of Alvidon.
Princess Aurora rose with the dawn. Gone were the ceremonial gowns and jeweled splendor of the previous day.
Today she dressed simple. A soft floral gown, light and unburdened, resting gently against her form. There was something different about her that morning. Not visible but present. A thought that had not left her since the gardens. Since him.
She made her way through the palace corridors, her steps quiet, measured, until she reached the throne hall.
The great doors stood open and as she approached, she noticed movement. Members of the council, visitors, strangers, all making their way out. Their voices low, their expressions tense. Whatever meeting had taken place, it had not been light.
Aurora stepped inside. Her father remained upon his throne waiting.
“Good morning, Father,” she said, bowing gracefully.
King Julian’s expression softened immediately. “My daughter.”
He rose and stepped down from the throne, placing a gentle kiss upon her cheek.
Aurora smiled faintly. Then glanced back toward the doors at the retreating figures disappearing beyond them.
“What was that about?” she asked.
Julian exhaled.
“Politics,” he said simply. “And the usual requests that come with it.”
Aurora tilted her head slightly. “Requests?”
“Delegates,” he clarified. “From Astrad. The kingdom suffers famine. War pressing from both sides. Syrinx and Morinth have turned their eyes toward them.”
Aurora’s brows drew together.
“They came seeking alliance?”
“Yes.”
Silence followed.
“So… we will help them?” she asked.
Julian’s gaze hardened slightly.
“Oh, my dear child,” he said quietly, “war is not a luxury we can afford.”
Aurora held his gaze but said nothing. She knew that tone. It was not refusal alone, it was finality. And she had long learned that there was no use arguing with it.
A brief silence passed between them. Then Aurora spoke again. More carefully this time.
“Father…”
Julian looked at her.
“Do gods walk the earth?”
The question lingered unexpected.
“What?” he asked, studying her more closely now.
“All my life,” Aurora continued, “I have heard stories. Of gods… of their power… their presence. Aren’t they ever seen by men?”
Julian’s expression shifted. Not fear, but something close to caution.
“Aurora,” he said slowly, “the gods are not seen as you imagine.”
He walked past her slightly, his voice quieter now.
“They reveal themselves only to those bound to them—priests, priestesses… those who serve within their temples.”
He turned back to her.
“If a god were to appear to you, then it might not be a blessing.”
Aurora’s breath stilled.
“It would mean your time in this world is nearing its end.”
The words settled heavily. But Aurora did not retreat.
“What if…” she began, her voice softer now, “what if I had seen one?”
Julian’s gaze sharpened.
“What if a man stood before me,” she continued, “and told me he was a god?”
Silence.
Then—Julian sighed.
“Aurora,” he said, his tone now dismissive, “many powerful witches and sorcerers have made such claims.”
He waved a hand lightly.
“It is not uncommon. Power often breeds delusion. You must not let such absurdities trouble your mind.”
Aurora nodded slowly. “Yes… of course.”
It made sense. It had to. There was no other explanation.
A god, walking freely, speaking so casually—no. That’s impossible. And yet as she stood there, her thoughts betrayed her.
Silver hair.
Ocean-deep eyes.
That voice. The way he had said her name.
Aurora lowered her gaze slightly. No. He could not be a god. He was simply a man.
---
The thought would not leave her. It lingered quiet and persistent, like a whisper she could not silence.
Aurora remained in her chambers long after her conversation with her father had ended.
She tried to distract herself. But her mind refused. It returned again and again, to the spring stream. To him.
Then suddenly she rose. Quick, decisive, like a bolt of lightning breaking still air.
“I will be back,” she said, already moving toward the door.
Her maids startled behind her. “Your Highness—”
“Do not run after me.” And she was gone. Through the corridors, down the steps, past the gardens, until she reached it.
The spring stream. Just as she remembered. Soft, untouched.
Aurora slowed her steps. Her gaze moved across the mist searching, yet nothing. She exhaled quietly and moved forward, lowering herself onto the soft carpet of grass.
Time passed slowly. She traced patterns in the earth, counted flowers and watched the water drift by.
An hour, perhaps more. Still nothing.
The quiet that once comforted her now felt empty. At last, she sighed softly and rose to her feet.
Foolish…
She turned to leave.
“Giving up so soon?”
Her breath caught. Aurora turned sharply and there he was. Standing as though he had always been there. Unchanged.
She did not hesitate. A smile broke across her face bright and unrestrained.
“You.”
Astraios’ lips curved slightly. “Me.”
She stepped closer.
“How are you here?” she asked, her curiosity returning at once.
He regarded her calmly. “I thought you wanted to see me.”
“I did,” she admitted quickly. “But I didn’t think it would be possible unless you lived… or worked within the palace.”
A small pause.
“Which do you do?”
“Neither.”
Aurora frowned slightly. “That cannot be true. You cannot simply appear from nowhere.”
Her gaze narrowed playfully. “And yet you still claim to be a god.”
Astraios tilted his head. “You think I am not?”
Aurora shook her head with certainty.
“I know you are not. My father told me of men—powerful witches and sorcerers—who make such claims.”
Astraios said nothing. Only a quiet, amused laugh escaped him. Then without warning, he reached forward and lightly tapped her nose.
A simple gesture. Playful, unexpected. Aurora blinked, then smiled like a child discovering something new.
“So,” she continued, her tone lighter now, “what do you do for a living?”
Astraios answered without hesitation. “I am a farmer.”
Aurora’s eyes brightened. “Oh… that is nice. Where is your farmland?”
“Riverdale.”
She laughed softly. “Of course it is in Riverdale. Everything is in Riverdale.”
Astraios’ gaze held hers.
“No,” he said quietly. “Riverdale is my farmland.”
The words lingered strange. Unsettling, yet she did not fully understand why.
Aurora was about to respond when voices called out in the distance.
“Princess Aurora!”
“Your Highness!”
She turned quickly.
“Over here!” she called back.
Then she turned to him again But he was gone. Not walking away, not fading. Gone. As though the space he occupied had never held him at all.
“Astraios?” she called softly.
No answer. Only the quiet stream, only the mist. Only her. Footsteps approached behind her.
A young maid bowed her head. “Your Highness… the King calls for you.”
Aurora did not respond immediately. Her gaze remained fixed on the place he had stood.
Her heart unsteady once more.
“Very well,” she said at last.
But as she walked away, she carried something with her. Not certainty, not understanding. But a feeling that this was no chance meeting, and that no matter how many times he vanished, he would return. Because something had already begun and neither of them could stop it.
- Writer
