Naefir Talathel || We Three Kings Past

It was that time again.

Winter had blown in slow, like gentle waves, and had blanketed most of the land in a layer or two of fluffy white snow. Even protected by the canopy of trees, the Sylvan Forest felt the clawing cold of ice and snow breach its defences and litter the forest floor with sparkling white. The trail towards the Great Tree and the heart of the Kingdom is a winding dirt track, now decorated with hundreds upon hundreds of winter ornaments. From gold and silver ribbons tied into bows, bunches of holly with leaves and red berries tied together with the same ribbons, to hand made ornaments that seemed to sparkle with magical residue, any who stepped through the forest would find ease in travelling.

The Great Tree itself was adorned with beautiful twinkles of soft and warm light, strewn across the branches and trunk in a way that seemed to pulse with a living energy, likely given form by the those chosen to decorate the castle for the winter celebrations. Within the Tree the halls of the royal castle were bustling with life and energy, servants clamouring to meet deadlines and bring collected offerings to the Pool of Life deep in the roots of the Great Tree. Each offering would give back to the world and be reabsorbed into the magical flow that thrums through Antexun.

While the winter celebration of Yultide commenced, the King of Yul was nowhere to be found. It was, however, always this way. The King would begin the festivities with an announcement and then disappear until the Great Tree flourished one again. No one questioned this, but many were curious. Especially since every year he would be searching for a companion. This year was different though, much to the dismay of those of the populace wishing to prove themselves the one for him.

No one knew why this year was different, and neither did the King.

Naefir was sat behind his writing desk in the opulent suite of his bedroom. Little scritches sounded as he scribed over old parchment paper, the flicker of candlelight his only companion in the quiet of his wing. A feeling of apprehension had settled over him after the announcement days ago, and he wasn’t quite sure why he felt this way. By now he would have already been making preparations to find a companion, but... again, this feeling had stopped him.

He sighed deeply, quill stalling against the parchment and creating a bead of ink that bled through and obscured the previous letter he’d written. The normally well put together king was at a loss. He dropped the quill into a standing pot, not of ink, and stood up with an elegant flourish. That nagging little sensation told him to check the door.

His feet took him quietly and quickly through the long passages, but the closer he got the more of a tug he felt. Apprehension morphed into cold speculation, and he hurried his stride, forest green and gold robe fluttering behind him. It wasn’t until he’d reached the door that led into his study, that he noticed it wasn’t locked. Now he wasn’t going to jump to conclusions, because most servants often forgot to lock the door and would always leave it open in their rush to clean his wing. Naefir entered with a critical eye. Nothing was misplaced, or missing, but as his sapphire-like eyes crossed the bookcase in the corner of the room he froze. It was crooked, like someone had moved it. Or found the latch to open the secret room.

He moved calmly and without a sound, creeping around the open door to peek inside. Yet what he found made him confused. This person, he couldn’t tell if they were an elf or a human, was standing before the glowing door that took Naefir to his other kingly friends once a year. He felt a soul deep tug, and the magic of the door fluctuated in resonance.

Who was this person? How did they get in here?

And why on Antexun was his doorway going mental?

His eyes widened slightly. It couldn’t be...

“State your business. This area is restricted.”

He reached out, fingers gently grazing their shoulder and a zap of magical current shot through him. He swallowed, then clamped his hand down and spun them around. The door behind them flashed a bright gold, pulsing with more energy.

“...Who are you? Where did you come from?” He peered down into their eyes, his height creating a small shadow. “Thief? Why are you here? Servant?” He was slightly frantic in his questions, but every time the doorway pulsed, his heart rate increased and he tightened his grip on their shoulder almost painfully.