SWNOVELXO Chapter 8: Chapter 8: The First Time Again
The morning air in Virelles was always colder than expected.
It carried the scent of soot, stone, and something softer-like faded incense and forgotten prayers. Elara stood at the edge of the merchant corridor just outside the southern palace gate, blending in with a slow-moving crowd of traders, pilgrims, and debt-seekers. Her cloak was gray, her boots cracked from dust roads, and her face kept low. She didn't need attention. Not yet.
The palace loomed above her like a beast of marble and fire. Guards lined its steps, armored in gold-trimmed leather, holding long iron spears with tips shaped like sunrays. Behind them, the double gates stood closed. A list of approved visitors was posted on a scroll beside the entry guard.
Elara already had a plan.
She stepped out of line, circled behind a delivery cart, and walked straight toward the side entrance meant for temple servants. It was guarded, but not closely watched-not during changing shifts. She moved with practiced ease, like someone who belonged. Her stolen robes helped. Her silence helped more.
The palace swallowed her before anyone realized she had passed through.
Kaelith leaned against the window of the eastern observatory, arms folded, jaw tight.
He hadn't slept properly in days.
The dreams had grown heavier, bleeding into his waking hours. He'd begun seeing flashes-white feathers drifting through rooms where there were no birds, the distant sound of fire crackling beneath his footsteps, and once, in the reflection of his chalice, a girl's face that didn't belong to anyone alive.
A soft knock pulled him from his thoughts.
It was Elric, his steward. A thin man with a sharp nose and a voice that always sounded like he was announcing a funeral.
"The High Priest has arrived, Your Grace," Elric said. "He waits in the prayer hall."
Kaelith nodded. "I'll be there shortly."
As Elric bowed and left, Kaelith remained by the window.
Something had shifted in the air.
A tension. A weight.
Like something he had lost was closer than it had ever been before.
Elara moved through the lower levels of the palace with calculated precision. She knew this place-knew it better than most born within its walls. She had lived here once. Died here twice.
The corridors had not changed. The tapestries were new, but the pillars, the scent of rosewood oil, the exact way the sunlight sliced through the upper archways-these were the same.
She reached the servant wing just before the guards changed patrol. Timing was everything. She slipped into a storage alcove behind the chapel entrance and waited.
When the next group passed, she stepped out and walked into the palace's main corridor like she belonged there.
No one questioned her.
No one ever did.
Kaelith entered the central prayer hall, nodding politely to the priests lining the back wall. His mind wasn't on them.
He barely heard their greetings.
His eyes scanned the room without purpose-until he saw movement behind one of the marble columns. A figure. Cloaked. Paused too long.
He squinted. Just a servant?
No. His stomach twisted.
That was when the figure stepped forward, and his breath caught in his throat.
She didn't say anything. She didn't have to.
Her face…
He had never seen it before. And yet, something inside him reacted as if it recognized her completely.
It was in the stillness of her stance.
The way her eyes locked with his-not with fear, not with awe, but with the calm silence of someone who had already buried him in another life.
He took a step toward her. "Who are you?"
Elara didn't answer.
Not yet.
She wanted to see it in his eyes first—that moment when confusion turned to discomfort, when something beneath the surface would begin to claw its way up from his subconscious. That flicker of memory that never quite made it to speech.
It came.
Slow. Faint. Real.
His pupils narrowed. His lips parted slightly.
"You…" he whispered.
"I've been here before," she said calmly. "And so have you."
He frowned, taking another step. "Do I know you?"
"No," she replied. "But your soul does."
Outside the hall, the guards hadn't noticed the exchange.
Inside, the silence was thick. Even the priests had begun to notice the tension between the prince and the cloaked stranger.
Kaelith blinked and looked around, suddenly unsure. When he turned back, she was already walking away.
He didn't follow immediately.
He just stood there - staring at the place she had stood. His fingers trembled at his sides. Not from fear. From recognition.
From the kind of knowing that lives too deep for logic to reach.
Elara slipped back into the lower halls, her heart racing, but not from panic. From confirmation.
He had felt it.
He hadn't remembered her name. But he had felt it.
The next time they met, she would give him the truth.
And this time, she would not die before finishing the story.