Bound by Dreams

Prologue: They say dreams are echoes of another life. Then when our eyes close, our hearts remember a place they once belonged to. A name once whispered. A hand once held. But what if the dream was more than memory? What if it was a meeting? In a world where kingdoms war for ancient lands and dragons carve fire into the skies, two dreamers–unknown to each other—find each other night after night, in places that defy reality. Gardens that never wilt. Castles born from thought. A sky that only bends for them. One day, they will be forced to choose: Their kingdoms Or each other Chapter 1 Eliwyne In Aetherra, mornings feel a bit different from everywhere else. It’s not that the world is still—it’s more like it’s waiting. Waiting for you to wake up and step into it, ready for the day to unfold. The light here doesn’t rise all at once. It spills. Slowly. Softly. As though it’s asking permission. My name is Eliwyne Aerlynne, though most call me Eli. I live in a castle named Aelinthra, high above the eastern cliffs, where the sea and sky seem to trade secrets. From my tower window, I can watch the gulls carve spirals in the wind, their cries echoing like ancient songs. Some say they bring messages. Warnings. Promises. They say Castle Aelinthra was built atop the spine of a slumbering beast—stone fused with magic, breath tucked between its bricks. I like to believe that. There’s something about the way the walls echo in the early morning, the way the light slants through ancient glass, that makes it feel alive. Or maybe that’s just what I tell myself, to make the quiet easier. Sometimes, it feels like the castle is listening. This morning, I rose before the bells, as I often do. The dawn was still curled behind the hills, leaving only pale streaks of lavender across the sky. My room—high in the west tower—was cold enough to kiss my skin awake. I didn’t light a fire. I liked the hush of the dark. A knock came, gentle as a thought. “Come in,” I whispered. The door creaked open, and Aunt Cael stepped in with a linen bundle in her arms. She always moved like the wind—soft, smooth, steady. Her gray hair was braided back, her apron tied over a plain wool dress. To anyone else, she was just my assistant maid. But not to me. “You’ve not slept again,” she murmured, setting the fresh linens by the hearth. “I slept,” I said. “Just not for long.” She raised an eyebrow as she adjusted the curtains. “Dreams?” I looked away. “I don’t remember them.” She didn’t press. She never did. Aunt Cael has worked in the castle since before I was born, though I’ve only called her Aunt since I could speak. She isn’t really my aunt—at least not by blood—but she’s more family than anyone else here. Most think she’s just a quiet servant with a strange way of reading people. But I’ve seen the old scrolls hidden beneath her mattress. The markings inked faintly along her wrist. The feather she wears tied to her belt, even when she thinks no one’s looking. “You have a long day ahead,” she said, smoothing the coverlet as I slipped out of bed. “Your riding instructor’s returned from the borderlands. And the council expects you at supper.” “How lucky for me,” I muttered, teeth chattering as I stepped onto the cold floor. She handed me my robe with a smirk. “A queen should not complain before breakfast.” “I’m not a queen,” I said. “Not yet.” “Then enjoy the silence while it lasts.” She left with a small bow, her footsteps fading down the hall. By the time the sun spilled fully over the stone balconies, I was dressed and seated in the solarium. Breakfast was quiet. Toasted oatbread, figs soaked in rosewater, and too many reminders of meetings I didn’t ask for. A page came by with a scroll—another lesson rescheduled, this time by a minister too busy to teach but not too busy to scold. I tucked it beneath my plate without reading the rest. The day unraveled in its usual way—lessons in diplomacy, posture, and the histories of dead men. My tutor, Master Daelric, droned on about trade routes while I stared out the stained-glass windows, imagining how the clouds would taste if they were soft enough to lie on. “You would do well to listen, Your Highness,” he snapped once, catching my drifting gaze. “You’ll be expected to know the value of iron from Kareth and salt from the Drifting Isles.” “I’m more interested in what they don’t trade,” I said without thinking. That earned me a scowl. He didn't understand questions that didn't end in numbers or maps. Riding came after. The fields below Aelinthra’s walls stretched wide and frost-brushed. I rode hard, just to feel something move faster than time. My mare, Solra, didn’t seem to mind. Her hooves beat the earth like a drum, chasing the horizon. I leaned into the wind, letting it braid its fingers through my hair, letting the cold burn away the stiffness of hours spent pretending. When I returned, my dress was dusty and my hair wind-blown. Aunt Cael met me in my chambers with a basin of warm water and that look she gives when I’ve pushed too far again. “You ride like you’re chasing something,” she said gently, dabbing at a cut on my palm I hadn’t noticed. “Maybe I am,” I murmured. But I didn’t say what. The rest of the evening passed in quiet ceremony. Supper with the lords of council, where I was expected to smile and say little. Afterward, a walk through the gardens by lantern light. The air was crisp, the moon bright. Still, something tugged at the edges of me. A whisper I couldn’t quite catch. When I finally returned to my tower, Aunt Cael was already there—closing the windows, lighting the lanterns. On my pillow sat a little sachet tied with red string. It smelled of lavender and juniper and something older I couldn’t name. “What is it?” I asked. She paused before answering. “Something to help you remember only what matters.” I climbed beneath the blankets and let the warmth sink into my bones. She tucked the sheets gently, the way she always did when I was small. “You’ll dream again tonight,” she said, more statement than hope. And then she left, closing the door behind her. I stared up at the ceiling, watching shadows flicker in the candlelight. The room felt quieter than before, as if Aelinthra herself was holding her breath. And just as I began to drift— I heard something. A creak. A shift in the stone. The candle dimmed. The flame danced sharply to the side, as though startled. Then, stillness. Not fear—but expectation. I sat up slowly. The sachet still lay by my pillow, its scent stronger now, curling through the air like smoke. It made my limbs feel heavy. My breath, slower. A shadow passed by the window. Not a bird. Not wind. Something that paused as it passed. The room was cold again, but I didn’t reach for my robe. I crossed to the window and pressed my hand to the glass. The sea below shimmered, silver-black. The tide had pulled back far enough to reveal the jagged stones at the cliff’s base, and just beyond them—the path. Narrow. Twisting. Beckoning. I didn’t remember it being that clear before. I didn’t remember seeing the light. There, on the edge of the shore—a flicker. A flame. Pale blue. It moved like it was breathing. Like it knew I was watching. And then it was gone. I turned away, heart pounding harder than it should. The castle felt... aware. And somewhere in the deep, the stones breathed slow. Waiting.