Chapter ten
Grekheim, the tenth world
The sweltering, unbearable summer came and went without leaving a single trace.
While the autumn wind scattered the withered leaves, some crows swooped past overhead.
Late into the quiet night, a soft knock echoed gently on the door, breaking the stillness.
Penelope, wrapped in her cozy blankets, swung her legs over the side of the bed and slipped out. In a flurry, she dressed in a flowing gown that sparkled under the faint light, pulled on her dazzling heels that shimmered like the stars, and hurried to the door.
As she opened it, a rush of cool night air greeted her. There stood a man draped in a shimmering silvery suit, adorned with twinkling stars that seemed to dance under the moonlight. His traveling cloak billowed dramatically in the wind, casting a striking silhouette against the dark sky. His sapphire eyes sparkled with an intensity that mirrored Penelope’s own.
“Lucius, where have you been?” Penelope inquired, her voice barely above a whisper as she quietly closed the door behind her, stepping into the garden that flourished with nocturnal beauty.
“The election, darling,” Lucius replied in a hushed tone, his voice warm and playful as he winked at her.
“Well, good luck then,” Penelope replied, her heart swelling with both concern and admiration.
“Well, good luck,” she offered, her heart swelling with both admiration and concern.
“What about the heir? Did you find her?” he inquired, his expression turning serious as he leaned closer.
“No, but rumors suggest Joanna, the mother of all soulblenders, is alive right now in the Ethereal House,” Penelope explained, her brow furrowing slightly. She sighed but nodded encouragingly, sending a rush of hope through Lucius.
“Would you care to join me for a moment’s rest?” Lucius suggested, his eyes lightening up with a hint of mischief.
A blush crept to Penelope’s cheeks as Lucius entwined his fingers with hers. Together, they unfurled their magnificent eagle wings, shimmering silver in the moonlight, and took flight, soaring into the vastness of the night sky.
“Where should we explore together, my sweet?” he asked, his voice filled with excitement.
“I’m drawn to that cloud over there; it looks absolutely enchanting,” she replied, her eyes sparkling with delight as she pointed towards a fluffy, white cloud hovering above.
“Indeed, it does,” Lucius echoed, guiding their ascent toward the fluffy white mass that awaited them. They landed softly, like feathers settling on a bed of cotton, and Penelope nestled close to Lucius, resting her head on his broad shoulder.
“Penelope?” he called gently, breaking the soft lull.
“Yes, my dear?” she responded, her heart fluttering with affection.
“Do you see that star?” He pointed upwards, a hint of mischief in his voice.
“Yes, what about it?” she asked, tilting her head back to follow his gaze.
“That's Venus, darling. The star of love,” he whispered, his gaze never leaving her face.
“I can already guess what you are thinking,” she smiled, playfully teasing him. “Today, it shone brighter than ever.”
Lucius fell into her gaze, his eyes reflecting the light of the stars around them, and she held his look, the world around them fading away.
“Oh, how I love the atmosphere tonight,” Penelope breathed, her voice heavy with dreams.
She stood, stretching her arms wide toward the infinite sky as if trying to embrace the vastness of the universe.
The wind surged through her like a wild river, tousling her hair and making her dress billow and dance in chaotic rhythm. Lucius stood close, his hands cradling a violin, the bow gliding over the strings, drawing forth melodic notes that floated effortlessly on the night air.
With a heart full of laughter, Penelope welcomed the spirited gusts swirling around them. The cloud beneath them glided swiftly through the galaxy, while their joyous laughter intertwined with the ethereal music, creating a magnificent symphony of the night.
As the wind calmed and the last notes faded into the stillness, Penelope settled back beside Lucius, who tenderly kissed her cheeks, the warmth of his lips lingering like a tranquil promise.
They reclined together, their magnificent wings enveloping one another, as soft silver moonbeams spilled over them, painting their faces in a dreamy glow, where they surrendered to the embrace of slumber...
As they navigated the vast, cosmic expanse of the galaxy, deep below, Elizabeth stirred, turning over on her lush, canopied bed and letting out a long, gentle yawn.
A smile danced upon her lips as she slipped into the realm of dreams, where reality blurred and magic thrived.
Suddenly, she found herself standing alone on a deserted island, the ground beneath her feet warm and inviting, yet surrounded by the relentless roar of crashing waves and the haunting whispers of the wind that danced around her.
The island was stripped bare, save for a deep abyss at its heart, from which golden sands poured forth like molten treasure. With each step she took, the grains shifted beneath her bare feet, whispering secrets of an ancient world. Bright beams of light streamed from the core of the hole, igniting the sky with a mesmerizing glow.
High above, a stunning pattern materialized, revealing a sapphire-blue moon adorned with a spiral horn beneath it, and a pair of delicate olive branches cradling the horn like a guardian.
The sight captivated Elizabeth’s heart, filling her with a blend of wonder and disbelief.
As she gazed up at the celestial creation, a creeping fear slithered into her thoughts: behind her, the inky black seawater began to rise, curling its tendrils greedily toward the heavens as if intent on swallowing her whole.
From the depths of the gaping hole, a deep, mysterious voice resonated through the island, rich and intricate, echoing with age-old secrets.
"Find Grekheim, unseal Grekheim from terror," it commanded, causing Elizabeth’s heart to race.
The chilling familiarity of the voice sent shivers down her spine, reminiscent of the night she discovered the truth about the flying lady—and the very night her father, Christopher, had chosen betrayal over love.
Christopher—the very name twisted in her mind like a venomous serpent. Suddenly, a troubling realization slithered into her consciousness, sending tendrils of panic coursing through her veins.
Weeks earlier, she had been an unwilling eavesdropper, hiding just out of sight as Veronica and Datura had engaged in a heated argument.
It was during that exchange that Datura, in a hushed yet menacing tone, had commanded her loyal servant, Christopher, to carry out the unthinkable act of murder against her.
The weight of those words pressed heavily upon her, and she was left grappling with the implications of that dark revelation.
What could it truly mean for her life?
Desperate to distance herself from the grim thoughts swirling in her mind, she whipped around just in time to witness the luminous pattern in the sky glow brighter still, illuminating the entirety of the island in a silver radiance.
The encroaching water trembled before it, retreating in fear. Obscure shrieks sliced through the air, echoing from the farthest reaches of the world, invading Elizabeth’s ears with a sense of foreboding.
The stars trembled, their ordinary brightness dimmed in the wake of the dazzling spectacle above.
Then, as if compelled by an unseen force, the radiant pattern shrank and fell gradually from the sky, landing softly in the sand at her feet.
With trembling fingers, Elizabeth picked it up, feeling a gentle warmth radiate from its surface.
A wave of exhilaration surged through her, as if the very essence of her soul was awakening.
"Elizabeth?" An urgent voice stirred her from this riveting dreamscape. Abruptly, she found herself back in the warmth of her bed, gasping as reality rushed back.
The remnants of her dream clung to her like a lost memory, the warmth gradually seeped back into her veins, the veil of consciousness unfurled, only to be pierced by a sharp, searing agony that shot through her palms like wildfire.
The pain was almost blinding, a white-hot reminder of her reality.
Driven by a mixture of dread and curiosity, she reluctantly flipped her hands over, and with an unexpected pop, a stunning golden pocket watch tumbled onto the quilt, the soft fabric cradling its fall.
The watch gleamed under the soft glow of a nearby lamp, its ornate design catching her eye—a delicate engraving of swirling patterns danced across its surface, telling stories of time long past. With unsteady fingers, she grasped the watch and held it aloft, its cool exterior contrasting vividly with her heated skin.
As she flicked it open, a gentle cascade of fine sand poured out, glinting like tiny stars against the backdrop of her pillow. In that starlit swirl, a mesmerizing pattern emerged, one she recognized all too well—it was the intricate design that had filled her dreams, enchanting her with its beauty.
Could this timepiece be the very object from her slumber?
Her heart raced as questions flooded her mind.
How had it crossed the ephemeral divide between dreams and the tangible world?
Then, like a ghost from her memory, the name Grekheim reverberated inside her thoughts, echoing with an enigmatic weight that unsettled her.
What significance did it hold?
The sense of mystery surrounding her situation deepened, leaving her feeling as though she were ensnared in an intricate web—one that connected her waking life to a dreamscape overflowing with cryptic revelations waiting to be unveiled.
Each day, the lines between what she knew and what she had experienced blurred more, leaving her with an insatiable need to unravel the tangled threads of her reality.
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The thing was getting a lot fishier day by day.
The sound of a bell tolled deeply from somewhere beneath the ocean, resounding from a cathedral hidden in the depths of Atlantis. Each chime echoed ominously, signaling something significant.
With a heavy heart, Elizabeth rose from her bed and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, determination beginning to take root in her thoughts.
It had been nearly two weeks since her last adventure—a treacherous journey that had left her breathless and haunted by memories of near ruin. The dizziness that lingered from her encounter with the Oriental Plane felt like a shroud over her mind, and the growls of the giantess still echoed hauntingly in her memory.
She could scarcely shake off the terror of how perilous their newly chosen Counselor had turned out to be.
It's been so long since they returned, but not a single letter asking how everything was going has been sent to their mailbox, and not a single soulblender has worried about their ex-counselor.
She cast a glance toward her nightstand, where her treasured weapon—the frost dagger—lay waiting. It had served her well in battle against the giantess, yet the cold fear of that confrontation still lingered in her veins.
"Elizabeth?" A bright, cheerful voice broke through her reverie.
Peeking out from the doorway, she saw Penelope’s radiant face, filled with excitement.
"What’s happening?" Elizabeth asked, hastily dressing and stepping out into the hallway.
Descending the grand marble staircase, she found Percy and Veronica engaged in animated conversation on the plush sofa, laughter spilling into the air like music.
Percy lounged comfortably, his knees drawn up to the cushions while Veronica rested her head against his shoulder, a picture of camaraderie amid the uncertainty that loomed in their collective futures.
A sudden wave of unease gripped Elizabeth, a sour feeling that twisted in her stomach like a tightening coil.
Her gaze was involuntarily drawn to Percy, who was leaning in close to Veronica, his voice animated and his laughter vibrant, creating a delightful symphony that echoed softly between them.
They were huddled over a steaming mug of rich hot chocolate, sharing a single straw in a moment that felt almost intimate, the kind of camaraderie that made Elizabeth's heart clench with a bittersweet pang.
She was aware, on some level, that their exchange was merely that of friends, yet a fierce, unwelcome jealousy coiled tightly within her. She shook her head vigorously, attempting to cast away the bitterness clinging to her thoughts, yet deep down, she recognized that such feelings were indeed troubling.
On the polished wooden table nearby lay a piece of paper, its edges crisp and clean. Curiosity piqued, Elizabeth reached out and picked it up, feeling the cool surface against her fingertips. In bold green ink, the message proclaimed:
Congratulations, you are invited to attend the Election Campaign! Please gather at the cathedral at seven o’clock in the morning.
Jessica Josephine.
A tumultuous swirl of confusion enveloped her mind. An Election Campaign?
Why were they chosen as invitees?
Jessica Josephine knew perfectly well that they were soulblenders, a group traditionally forbidden from entering the Ethereal House.
With her mind racing through a storm of questions, Elizabeth hoisted her bag over her shoulder and made her way toward the cathedral alongside her companions.
By the time they arrived, the grandeur of the Grand Cathedral overwhelmed her senses.
It buzzed with winged beings flitting about, creating a chaotic yet euphoric atmosphere, their conversations mingling into a delightful hum.
Outside, the gentle coastal wind rustled through thick strands of kelp, planted decoratively on the soft, squishy seabed.
A small group of seahorses, tethered like colorful little ornaments near the entrance, were engaged in a low, animated conversation. Elizabeth overheard snippets of their gossip—phrases like “Our savior is approaching” and “Long live Dolores the Evil”—but she paid no attention to them.
Seahorses always gossip about nonsense.
But, not always, not this time at least.
She stepped through the towering archways into the cathedral’s grand hall, and her breath hitched at the sight before her.
The walls gleamed with pure white marble, effortlessly reflecting the warm light from a magnificent crystal chandelier hanging above, its many facets casting a constellation of sparkling reflections that swirled and danced across the surfaces around them.
They settled into plush, winged armchairs that enveloped them in comfort, gathered around an elegant circular table that promised warmth and camaraderie.
As she scanned the room, her eyes landed on Percy, who radiated joy as he sat beside a stunning blonde—Emily, Elizabeth immediately recognized. Across the room, Penelope was nestled next to a curly-haired man, his presence strikingly familiar. When their eyes met, a spark of recognition flickered within her; this was the very same man who had heroically rescued Penelope during their cruise. Elizabeth was taken aback, realizing she had no idea this connection existed.
With a quick wave to Veronica, hoping to bridge the distance, Elizabeth attempted to approach her friends. Yet, a throng of eager attendees suddenly filled the space, creating a barrier that left her feeling trapped and agitated.
Feeling a rush of anxiety, she pivoted to find a solitary seat beside a captivating young man. His hair was silver and flowed like a shimmering waterfall, swaying gently as he moved. His bright, piercing eyes locked onto her with an intensity that made her heart flutter.
“Hello, may I sit here?” she inquired, her voice slightly breathless. He nodded curtly, an unspoken invitation for her to take a seat.
“I’m Elizabeth,” she introduced herself, hoping to dispel the awkwardness.
“Morris Morgan,” he replied, and a flicker of surprise flashed in his eyes.
“Elizabeth? Ah, Veronica mentioned you! She described you as kind and intelligent, and I can see she wasn’t mistaken.”
“Veronica spoke of me?” Elizabeth asked, a mixture of astonishment and intrigue flooding her senses.
“Yes, my fiancée,” Morris said with a warm smile, his demeanor brightening as he gently placed a scoop of creamy pudding onto her plate and poured her a glass of velvety eggnog, the rich aroma wafting up to her nose and promising a delightful taste.
"I had just come by. Anyway, I'm rehearsing for the election training, you know, the Election Campaign.”
Awkwardly, Elizabeth had the glass of eggnog. Coughing softly into a lace handkerchief, she started staring at the bottom of her cup. She was too scared to make eye contact with Morris.
She couldn't imagine this.
Veronica, their former counselor, was engaged?
Elizabeth must have caught the wrong word.
But then, something else came into her mind—If this man was coming to the Ethereal House too—
Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief; that could only mean that everyone at S.I. was invited, and she didn't have to worry about being caught or tricked.
"Well, good luck!" said Elizabeth with a reluctant smile.
"Thanks," said Morris tenderly, beaming. He brushed his silvery hair over his shoulder and reached for a dessert comfortably.
"So, how is everything going on after your first mission? What is your task, exactly?"
"That's too inconsequential to explain. Plus, why are you so interested?" asked Elizabeth vigilantly as she poured some champagne into her cup and didn't even notice it had overflowed the cup.
Morris wiped it off the table. He smiled warmly and said genuinely, "I just wanna help you—if you’re not up for it, whatever, forget I said anything."
"Well, actually—" began Elizabeth, looking a bit less weary now.
Just then, she thought about her dream, the mysterious voice, and Grekheim.
"Wait, can you tell me something about the nine worlds?"
"Yeah, well, listen, you must know the nine worlds sustained and nourished by Yggdrasil, right?
Well, actually, here is another world, the tenth world—Grekheim."
Elizabeth's heart leaped with excitement.
Leaning forward, her eyes widened.
Morris blinked and continued, "But, Odin himself had sealed it, afraid that someone would notice this world. The Norse Gods and the Greek Gods are long since enemies, and that's why Odin tries to keep the tenth world a secret from us.
Grekheim can give us prophecies about our future, answer mysteries, and reveal secrets to us. But only when your hands dripped with your enemy's blood, when it will finally reveal itself," stated Morris, shrugging.
He had some salad and took a sip of his own champagne, looking thoughtfully.
“Here, there’s something I have to tell you, I can’t—” He began, his voice rather anguished. Yet before he could say anything, Emily came over, nudged him hard between the shoulder, and tossed something onto his lap.
Picking it up, he sighed sorrowfully, “The daily newspaper.”
"Well, we are here in the ocean, how on earth do those newspapers get inside?" Elizabeth asked tentatively, trying to change the topic.
"We must keep the connection with the outside world; the Astral Soulblender is constantly delivering messages and newspapers to help us stay in touch with the Ethereal House. After she got captured, we haven't received a single message since today.”
Elizabeth nodded, then picked up the newspaper and began to read.
The Election Campaign of Alfheim
The Election Campaign takes place in the Grand Hall of the Ethereal House. And subsequently, the Mystic Masquerade will celebrate the winners.
Here are the introductions of the four candidates:
1. Lucius McTavish:
A highly talented former Head Official who possesses the ability to summon creatures from the depths and communicate with them.
While he demonstrates ingenuity, questions remain regarding whether he allows space for love and unwavering loyalty.
2. Morris Morgan:
A courageous soulblender who has devoted his entire heart to the Fairy Lord.
He defeated a monster that was ravaging Alfheim, and after extensive investigation, he is considered the most likely candidate to be elected.
3. Narcissus Teresa:
A former Top Official capable of utilizing her ingenious mind with subtlety.
However, she has been manipulative and cunning toward others. Furthermore, she is arguably the most hypocritical person I have ever encountered. Her appearance is gentle, but her true nature may be riddled with deception and scam.
4. Datura Jasmine:
An accomplished and sophisticated celebrity with remarkable ingenuity.
Tough and resilient, she is. She possesses knowledge of occult and arcane runes. She advocates for equal treatment of all individuals and aims to eliminate the privileges enjoyed by soulblenders.
Editor: Datura Jasmine.
"Of course, she is the editor. She’s surely going to make a splash—about how tough she is." Muttered Elizabeth, thinking about how Datura had done to Veronica, that thought made her feel sick in the stomach.
“Yuck, just look at how ruthlessly it tears into poor Teresa!” Morris spat, his voice tinged with disgust as he flicked through the pages of Datura's merciless newspaper. The headline loomed large, bold lettering proclaiming its harsh judgments, the ink almost dripping with disdain.
Elizabeth, seated not far from him, immersed herself in the glossy presentation of the paper. Her gaze darted over the striking photographs tucked between the articles, each image a snapshot of intrigue and intensity.
“So, you vanquished a monster?” she inquired, her tone a blend of astonishment and admiration, as her eyebrows arched in surprise.
“Er—” Morris responded, his expression caught somewhere between mild embarrassment and unmistakable delight.
“Yeah, I suppose so,” he confessed, a sheepish grin breaking across his face as he absorbed her admiration.
Bending down, Elizabeth savored the last drop from the slender champagne flute, the crisp, bubbly liquid dancing on her tongue, while instinctively turning her gaze from the prefect, feeling the warmth of a blush creep up her cheeks. The atmosphere around them tinged with both excitement and unspoken tension.
“Well, Elizabeth, I must reveal that—” Morris started, his voice laced with mischief, but before he could unveil whatever secret lingered on his lips, a loud, jarring clank reverberated from outside the Great Hall, a sound that sliced through the conversation like a sword.
Jerked from their moment, Elizabeth peered over the bustling crowd, her keen eyes tracing the frenzied movements of the soublenders, brightly-clad students jostling each other as they dashed towards the exit, their expressions painted with alarm, as though fleeing from an unseen terror.
Curiosity piqued, Elizabeth joined the surge of students, flowing out into the clearing where the grand Yggdrasil Fountain stood, a majestic centerpiece with water cascading gracefully from its branches like nature’s own chandelier.
Suspended above the fountain, hovering a few feet above the glimmering water, was Veronica.
Her face was a portrait of sheer panic; her eyes darting wildly as she raked her fingers anxiously through her hair, her breath hitching in her throat. Gripping the microphone tightly, she prepared to announce the urgency of the unfolding chaos, her voice trembling but resolute as it pierced the air.
"All of the adventures and missions were cancelled before the Election Campaign, and no one was allowed to step out of their house without permission. I'm afraid someone was trying to get rid of us once and for all. There's a spy who lurked between us." Veronica announced, waving an invitation in her hand. Her voice was urgent and agitated.
"Beware, for you, all of you, might be under her surveillance. I want any of you who get invited to the Ethereal House to be extra careful now; anyone who didn't wish to be killed in a painful way shall be vigilant and watchful. I wish any one of you who takes part in the election good luck."
Without warning, the earth beneath them trembled fiercely, a chaotic rumble echoing through the air. Gritty sand erupted explosively from deep within the ground, swirling like a tempest as fissures spider-webbed across the surface beneath their feet. A thick, acrid smoke billowed upwards, obscuring their surroundings and enveloping them in a suffocating haze. Elizabeth struggled to lift her heavy head, every movement feeling like a monumental effort as the murky mist clouded her vision like a dark veil.
Just as abruptly as it had begun, an eerie silence descended, swallowing the sounds of chaos whole. When Elizabeth finally regained her senses and her sight cleared, she found herself flat on her bed, the familiar surroundings of her room coming into focus as if she had awakened from a deep, unsettling dream. The remnants of the upheaval lingered in her mind, leaving her disoriented and questioning the reality of what had just occurred.
She rubbed her eyes and sank back into the bed, not in any hurry to hoist herself upright.
That night, as Elizabeth lay in bed, her thoughts began to drift like loosened leaves in the wind. A peculiar unease nagged at her as the thought of Morris popped into her mind. Something about him didn’t feel right, though, he was kind and friendly in all, always engaging in cheerful conversation, yet there was an unsettling weight to his presence that made her feel small and powerless.
Then there was Grekheim; she felt a strange connection, an instinctive pull suggesting that she might be the key to unsealing its door. The mere thought sent a surge of adrenaline rushing through her body, quickening her heartbeat and igniting a sense of anticipation within her.
Elizabeth reached for her pocket and grabbed the golden pocket watch she'd brought back from her dream.
She clicked it open, and inside, golden words appeared,
'When you discover the truth behind your heritage, when you can unseal your true self.’