The Mage’s Riddle
1158 Words
The Tower loomed before us, tall and pale like bone under the mid-morning sun. No guards. No sigils. Just an archway of pale stone etched in glimmering runes that pulsed faintly like a heartbeat.
I glanced up at it, already knowing this wouldn’t be easy. We hadn’t come here for welcome. We’d come for the man inside.
Ashvin was quiet at my side, his hand resting near the hilt of his blade—not out of threat, but out of habit. He moved like a soldier in foreign ground. Careful. Controlled.
We stepped through the arch without knocking. There was nothing to knock on—only the pulse of light that shimmered like liquid air. As we crossed the threshold, a voice greeted us before any figure appeared.
“You’ve already failed,” it said, smooth and cool as glass. “Yet you come again. Curious.”
The Imperial Master Mage emerged from the shadows at the far end of the circular chamber. White and gold robes flowed behind him like liquid silk. His sage-green hair was tucked back in loose folds, his pale eyes calm, unreadable.
He looked like he had already judged us and moved on.
“We’re not here to beg,” I said.
“No?” The Imperial Master Mage arched a brow. “Then why have you come, Princess?”
He didn’t bow. Of course not. Men like him bowed only to truth—and perhaps not even then.
“To earn a chance to speak.”
He studied me for a long breath. “How noble.” A slight tilt of his head. “Or perhaps desperate.”
I said nothing.
“And your knight?” Lukas turned to Ashvin. “Still clinging to the belief that loyalty grants you purpose?”
Ashvin met his gaze, silent as ever. Steady. Loyal.
Lukas turned his back on us and walked along the ringed hall. We followed, the strange blue light inside the Tower shifting with our steps. No torches, no windows. Just that soft glow, like moonlight caught in stone.
He stopped beneath a low arch.
“I’ve denied you once,” he said, voice almost idle. “And I see no reason to change my stance. But…” He glanced over his shoulder, eyes sharp as a blade’s edge. “I’ve always had an appreciation for stories. So let’s make this one more interesting.”
He turned fully, robe whispering against the stone.
“A test. A riddle. If you answer it, I’ll grant you an audience. If not… you walk away and do not return.”
My throat tightened, but I nodded. “Say it.”
He lifted his hand. The air shifted. Light coiled between his fingers like smoke. And then he spoke:
“Born together but never the same,
One rules the dark, one burns with flame.
They chase, they dance, yet never meet—
A love bound always incomplete.
Tell me now, without delay:
Who is hunter, and who is prey?”
Silence fell. The light dimmed.
I felt Ashvin’s gaze shift to me, but he didn’t speak. He trusted me to find the answer.
And Lukas stood, arms folded, unmoving.
Waiting. Watching.
This was more than a riddle. This was a door. And I had to find the key.
The silence in the chamber was deep, the kind that demanded reverence. I stood with my hands clasped behind my back, spine straight, gaze locked on the man who seemed carved from the marble walls surrounding him.
He was the Imperial Master Mage—one of the most powerful men in the Empire—and he made no effort to hide the disdain simmering behind his calm expression.
The riddle lingered in the air like a challenge etched into stone:
Born together but never the same.
One rules the dark, one burns with flame.
They chase, they dance, yet never meet—
Who is the hunter, and who is the prey?
I repeated it silently, over and over again, weighing each word like a blade in my hand. Ashvin stood quietly at my side, posture at ease but eyes alert, waiting, ready to defend me if needed. He would never speak unless asked—not in the presence of someone like the Imperial Master Mage.
And I? I hadn’t been asked to speak. Not yet. This was still a test.
My breath came steady, but inside, I was fraying. Not from fear, exactly, but from the quiet voice whispering that I wasn’t enough. That I shouldn’t be the one here.
I was a princess, yes—but more than that, I was chosen. Still, that title felt hollow in front of a man like him, who wielded magic older than memory and regarded me like I was just another court-born girl playing at destiny.
I closed my eyes briefly, letting the weight of the moment settle into my bones.
The Moon and the Sun. The twin goddesses of our legends—never touching, always circling. The Moon chased the Sun endlessly, seeking warmth, seeking light, but never able to catch it. The Sun was constant, blazing forward, unaware or unwilling to be caught.
That was the answer, wasn’t it?
I opened my eyes.
“The Moon is the hunter,” I said, steady but quiet. “And the Sun… the prey. But the hunt never ends. They chase each other without ever meeting.”
The silence stretched thin. The Master Mage’s expression didn’t change, but the atmosphere shifted, subtle as a gust through still leaves. The wards in the chamber pulsed once—an acknowledgment.
His gaze narrowed slightly.
“Correct,” he said, finally. “Though I wonder if you understand the weight of that answer.”
I said nothing. My confidence hadn’t returned, not fully. I felt like I’d taken a step across a crumbling bridge, unsure if it would hold.
He watched me for another breath, then turned away from the dais, walking deeper into the marble chamber. His voice echoed off the cold walls.
“You have earned the right to speak. That is all I promised.”
He faced us again, hands clasped behind his back, his white and gold robes falling around him like smoke.
“I did not say I would answer. Whether or not your questions are worth my time—that remains to be seen.” My hands curled slightly at my sides, but I held my expression still. I had expected this. I had known this wouldn’t be easy.
“Understood, Imperial Master Mage,” I said, offering a respectful incline of my head.
His gaze flicked to Ashvin briefly, then back to me, measuring, weighing. I could feel it again—that subtle hum of power in the air. Not magic exactly, but control. Authority.
“Then speak,” he said. “Let me decide whether you’ve come seeking truth… or permission.”
- Writer
