The Homonhon palace was a breathtaking contrast to Marceau's fortress. While Marceau's palace exuded gold and brute power, the Diamond Palace shimmered with an almost ethereal elegance. The moment I stepped inside, my breath caught. The walls, adorned in silver, blue-grey, and white, sparkled like facets of a diamond, casting a soft, otherworldly glow that seemed to shift with every step I took.
Slender arches and graceful columns wove together strength and delicacy, a marvel of craftsmanship that defied logic. The polished floors gleamed beneath me, mirroring the light from ornate chandeliers that scattered a prismatic glow across the vast halls. Cool, fragrant air wrapped around me, laced with the scent of exotic flowers, as if the very palace breathed beauty. For a fleeting moment, I felt as though I had stepped into a dreamscape, where time moved differently, where reality blurred at the edges.
Then, something caught my eye—something more than just beauty. Embedded into the palace's very design were intricate markings, woven into the silver inlaid patterns on the pillars and archways. At first glance, they resembled those of Marceau, but one key difference made my breath hitch: a dragon coiled around the symbols. The image sent a ripple of unease through me. My thoughts drifted to the scrolls.
They spoke of a realm guarded by dragons. They mentioned pieces, a rightful space. The words gnawed at me. Could they be referring to the way between worlds? The dragon's power. The prince's obsession. It all began to fit together, like fragments of a long-forgotten puzzle. And my sudden arrival here? Undeniable proof that a way out might exist—if I could decipher it in time.
I focused, trying to recall what I had uncovered over the past few months.
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Inscribe: 𝖫❍57 5❍ⵡ𝖫 ᗵ#❍ 𝖫❍❍|< 7#𝖸 ᑭ𝖫4☽3, 74|<3 4 ᑭ13☽3 4Ⲡ☥ 6ⵡ1☥3 ᗵ17# 4 6𝖫1ᗶᑭ53. 𝖫37 7#3 6ⲅ347 ☥ⲅ46❍Ⲡ 6ⵡ4ⲅ☥ 𝖸❍ⵡⲅ ᑭ𝖫4☽3 4Ⲡ☥ 17 ᗵ1𝖫𝖫 5#❍ᗵ 𝖸❍ⵡ 7#3 ⲅ16#7=ⵡ𝖫 5ᑭ4☽3.
Translated: Lost soul who seeks their place, take a piece and guide with a glimpse. Let the great dragon guard your place, and it will show you the rightful space.
The symbols twisted before my eyes, but one stood out—a dragon's claw. Slowly, the text unraveled in my mind: Lost soul who seeks their place… take a piece… the dragon guards your rightful space.
The prince had boasted of immense power hidden within the scrolls, and now I understood his obsession. After studying the eighth part of the scroll, which spoke of a promise bound to the strong heart, a realization struck me. The pieces. Could they be the scrolls themselves?
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Inscribe:
|, ᗵ#❍ #❍𝖫☥ 7#3 ᗵ34𝖫7# 4Ⲡ☥ ᑭ❍ᗵ3ⲅ ❍= 7#3 ᗶ16#7𝖸 ❍Ⲡ3. B𝖫3553☥ 34☽# ᑭ13☽35 7❍ 7#3 57ⲅ❍Ⲡ6 #34ⲅ7. ᗵ17# 4 ᑭⲅ❍ᗶ153 81Ⲡ☥ 1Ⲡ ᗶ𝖸 #4Ⲡ☥, Ⲡ❍ ᗶ4Ⲡ ᗵ17# 4 51Ⲡ=ⵡ𝖫 #34ⲅ7 ☽4Ⲡ #❍𝖫☥ 7#3 ᑭ❍ᗵ3ⲅ 1Ⲡ ❍ⵡⲅ #34ⲅ7.
Translated: I, who hold the wealth and power of the mighty one, blessed each piece to the strong heart. With a promise bound in my hand, no man with a sinful heart can hold the power in our heart.
Leon's words echoed in my mind, deepening my unease. The prince's belief in the scroll's magic suddenly seemed less like superstition and more like a calculated pursuit. The author of these inscriptions had knowledge from both the past and the future. Were they guiding someone—someone like me—back home?
The throne room loomed ahead, grand and imposing, yet my thoughts were elsewhere—on the pieces of a puzzle dangerously close to completion. But as my gaze lifted to the throne, reality slammed back into place.
The prince sat there, exuding absolute authority, as though the seat had long awaited him. Silver and crystal adorned the magnificent throne, its flawless facets capturing every glimmer of light. It was a symbol of grandeur, of restrained elegance. And yet, the atmosphere had shifted—thickened. A presence entered, commanding attention. My breath stilled.
The man who strode in was unlike any I had ever seen.
He was beauty incarnate—his golden hair catching the light like spun sunlight, his blue-grey eyes fathomless, piercing through flesh and bone as if reading the secrets within me. Strength and grace coiled in his every movement, deliberate and calculated.
And yet, he was bound.
Thick silver chains shackled his wrists and ankles, tethering him to the will of Marceau. This wasn't just any citizen of Homonhon. He was a prisoner.
Something within me twisted—unease mingling with a strange, inexplicable pull. My eyes refused to leave him.
"He's… stunning," I murmured, barely recognizing my own voice.
But reality hit hard. He is not my ally.
Whatever power he possessed, it was now under Marceau's control. He was a tool, not a savior. And whatever danger he posed, it was aimed at me as much as it was contained by the prince's will.
A knot of fear coiled in my chest. Did he know something of the scrolls? Of the dragon?
What if he's the key?
He might be the missing piece—the one who could either complete my puzzle… or shatter it entirely.