As soon as you've made it across the bridge with Yoongi, you come to a halt, hesitant to continue.

You can feel it from a distance; the ripples of magic coming out of the portal, waiting for your return, hidden deep between the trees.

Silently, you wonder if Yoongi can feel it too. For some reason, you know that he can feel it, but he chooses not to show it. Not to say anything. Respecting your need to hold your secret just a bit longer until you can trust him completely with it.

Judging from the way he isn't making any move to continue, he is respecting your choice by not following you through the woods unless you allow him to.

But keeping your secret and preventing him from following you to find the opened portal is the least of your concerns at this moment. You hate having to say goodbye so soon when you just met him again. Your time together has been too short, you feel like it wasn't enough.

Yoongi tilts his head, noticing your silence. "Is there something wrong?" he asks, as if he can sense you having an inner battle in your silence.

"I don't want to say goodbye so soon," you admit with a quiet whisper.

"Then don't," Yoongi says, smiling. "Don't say goodbye. Not when we're going to see each other again."

"Is that true? Will we be able to see each other again?" You cannot help but ask, "I've believed that we would, but—"

Taking your hand in his, Yoongi gives it a gentle squeeze. "I promise, whenever you make the jump to travel somewhere, to a new place across the realm or even towards the next realm, I'll come running to you," he says with a firm voice, only that you are too afraid to believe him, to hope, after being disappointed the last few times you went and never found yourself crossing paths with him.

"Don't say such promises as if it is something that you are capable of doing," you whisper bitterly, looking away.

Still keeping a gentle hold of your hand, Yoongi tilts your chin up with his other hand, bringing your gaze back to him. "As I've told you many times before, little dove. I wouldn't dare make a promise that I'm not sure I can keep," he whispers as he plays with a few stray strands of your hair before tucking them behind your ear. Just like before, when he did the same and the tips of his fingers brushed lightly against your cheek, your body shudders. Your skin grows hot, and you sway on your feet, your body leaning towards him to feel more.

Your eyes flutter to close as you embrace this feeling, yet you quickly open them again, resisting, only so you can look at him longer. But then his face comes closer, almost as if he is leaning for a kiss. "Can you keep that promise?" you force yourself to ask, even when your voice comes out small, almost breathless. "Can you really find a way to know where I am the next time I walk across the realm and be there when I make the jump?"

Yoongi says nothing at first. But the intense way he is looking at you, with no words, only with a gaze that seems tortured, as if he is pained for not being able to say much seems to speak louder than his words would.

"How? How would you be able to do such a thing?"

Instead of answering you, Yoongi only smiles. "Why don't we make a little deal, you and me?" Yoongi offers instead, "I will tell you the next time we see each other again. Better yet, each time we meet again, I will share with you one secret of mine for you to keep. Something more about myself."

Sucking a deep breath, you try to calm the flutter building in your chest. And fail. "Promise?" Your voice comes out in a whisper. "And I—" You continue, feeling your throat tightening when you think about all the things you can offer to make this fair. You want to give something back. A piece of you to every piece of himself that he is willing to give you.

Bringing your hand up, you offer him your pinky finger. "Then I'll share something about myself too when we see each other again."

Looking up close, Yoongi's eyes seem to sparkle. Intrigued and pleased, Yoongi's smile deepens as he entwines his pinky finger around yours and murmurs, "It's a promise."

Neither of you makes a move to separate, remaining in this position just a bit longer, staying close with his eyes staring deeply into yours. For a moment, you wonder if he is going to kiss you, as he slowly bends down, his face growing closer, until he suddenly stops with a hesitant smile. "Until we meet again," he says instead, kissing the back of your hand.

You are filled with a mix of emotions, yet the touch of his lips on your skin makes your heart flutter, soaring with hope.

"Remember," he whispers, "All you need to do is jump, and I'll come running to you."

Despite everything, you know deep down that you can hold onto this promise. You want to believe him, and that is exactly what you say to him in the end before you finally decide to part ways just beyond the last line of trees.

"Will you be okay crossing the woods on your own?" Yoongi asks, still reluctant to let you go into the woods.

"I have my dagger with me, and I know how to defend myself," you reassure him, and his gaze flickers with knowing, believing that you are telling him the truth. "If all fails, I'll scream for help."

Yoongi softly laughs. "I'll be here," he says, as he slides his hands into his pockets, as if he is doing so to hold back from reaching out to you. "At least until you make it across."

You leave him standing by the bridge as you trudge into the thickets, his warm smile becomes the last thing you see when you look over your shoulder one last time, before slipping deeper into the woods and entering the magic portal waiting to take you home. You close your eyes for a brief moment when the magic engulfs you, pulling you through the space in between before you arrive back home. The force of the magic is so strong, that you barely feel it when another ripple of magic follows your departure, coming from somewhere nearby, right before the magic door closes behind you.

The moment you open your eyes again, you are standing in the middle of the quiet corridor back in Stargrave. There is an emptiness in your chest as you walk further away from the ghostly feeling of the magic portal slowly waning behind you as you slowly make your way back to your bedchamber, yet you find no reason to feel any sorrow as you stroll down the empty hallways and into your silent quarter.

Because you've arrived back home not all empty-handed. Not when you have the warmth of a promise filling your heart, the ghost of Yoongi's touch lingering in your palm, and five pouches of pixie dust in the pocket of your dress.

The day after your last trip, where you got to visit the home of elves and pixies, you remain in the castle instead of allowing your curiosity to take you away once again.

Your father's keys are secured safely in one of the drawers inside your bedchamber. Out of sight, though not entirely out of mind.

"Take a day off from travelling, especially since you've been travelling more frequently as of late," Yoongi had suggested yesterday, right before you parted ways, right after you made him so obviously worry about your well-being after you shared your recent predicament.

And you have chosen to follow his advice. To preserve your energy and mana until the next time you will be needing it again. Until the next time you see him again.

"And where will you be while I'm gone? Back to your mercenary business?"

Yoongi had given you a tight smile when you asked. Yet his eyes were filled with resolve when he answered, "Perhaps I shall handle my business to make sure they will no longer be in the way of me catching up to you."

With no plans on escaping the confines of the castle, you spend your afternoon at the terrace on Nanny Abigail's quarter for some afternoon tea with your governess. It has been a while since you spent some time with her without any agenda hidden under your sleeves—or hers.

Being here also means keeping you away from any possibility of you straying down vacant hallways in the castle and finding cryptic doors with humming spells enchanting you to open.

"It's quite remarkable to think that on the same day you spent the hour of your dancing lesson stubbing your toes one too many times, you spent the rest of the afternoon sparring with the knights," Nanny Abigail lifts her eyes from her tea and runs her gaze on your body, perusing briefly before commenting, "and without any injuries on your skin."

You look up, forcing a smile as you resist the urge to admit that you did gain some injuries. But you choose not to say anything, lest you are to be forced to explain everything. Or worse, to risk causing an innocent royal knight to take the blame.

"How did you find out?" You ask her instead while keeping your voice calm.

Nanny Abigail presses her lips together. A look of displeasure is written all over her face. "Words travel fast in this place. The maids here keep curious eyes on the Princess who had been kept away from the only home she ever knew and is struggling to adjust in this new place," she says with a wistful tone of voice, as if she has grown tired of the gossips, until she adds, "And those words always come back to me."

"No wonder I felt like I was constantly being watched." With an exaggerated sigh, you shake your head and mutter, "And here I thought it was all you."

Eyebrows raised, Nanny Abigail looks at you with an unamused look on her face. "You think I planted a spy on you?"

You give her a sly grin as you shrug. "Wouldn't be too surprised if you had. You've always seemed to have many eyes looking at me even when you are not around."

Your governess narrows her eyes at you as she murmurs almost to herself, "Perhaps it's time I should put a spy on you to make sure you behave like a princess for once."

The bitter way she says it only makes you laugh, which draws a smile to her face. A fleeting sight to see, that you almost believe you are imagining things, until you hear the sound of her soft chuckle, laughing at her own joke. She expertly hides it behind her cup of tea, keeping her poise as always.

"May I ask you something?" you carefully ask her when a thought comes through your mind. Something has been weighing in your mind lately, and seeing that your governess seems to be in a light mood—enough for her to joke around with you—you figure this might as well be the right time to bring this up.

Nanny Abigail lifts her eyebrows and hums. "I don't suppose it will stop you from trying if I refuse."

You roll your eyes. "Glad to know you think so highly of me," you tease, once again drawing a small smile from her. You take a deep breath before asking, "How well did you know my mother?"

At the mention of your mother, Nanny Abigail's shoulders grow stiff. She quickly recovers and straightens up as she slowly lowers her cup. She clears her throat before answering, "Well enough to see parts of her in you each time I'm looking at you. It's like seeing a reflection of her when I look at your face, or listen to you speak."

Her gaze finds you. The joy in her eyes dims and softens when a smile comes to her face. A smile that is filled with melancholy and a familiar sense of longing. "Might be why it doesn't surprise me when you are always up to something whenever no one is looking."

"What do you mean by that?"

Nanny Abigail sighs. "The Queen, your mother, has always been just as mischievous as you are. She has always been like that since she was a child. Always so curious, always questioning and looking for answers, even if it's the most impossible ones to find."

You cannot help but smile as you hear this. "How did that go with my father?"

"His Majesty was always worried about her, but what can he do?" she says, waving her hand dismissively. "Not even the most strict rules can stop her from going out to see the world."

Your back straightens. You have learned from Lord Gordan that you may have some similarities with your mother. You never expected to even share this with her. "She was a traveller."

Nanny Abigail looks at you, smiling. "And a scholar," she adds. "That was her true power." She briefly halts, thinking, before adding, "Well, one of them. Her curiosity is one, and her knowledge is the other. But the most important one that she obtained over the years would be her courage. The one thing that kept pushing her to find more and more knowledge, no matter where and how."

"This castle is full of books," you muse, recalling how much the royal library had amazed you the first time you entered it. And it seems that you keep finding more and more books—all the rare ones that have often helped answer your questions—the more you explore deeper. "Was it because my mother loved to learn?"

"Yes, it was. Your mother's always so fond of books," Nanny Abigail says with a fond look in her eyes. "I believe she also kept a journal with her. A small notebook where she would keep the things she found and learned through her journeys."

The conversation halts for a moment as Nanny Abigail pours some more tea into the cups, while your mind wanders. "How did she travel?" you find yourself asking, wondering, to which Nanny Abigail merely scoffs.

"Heavens know. She always had her secrets," she answers with a soft chuckle. "Mostly, she would disappear hours into the day and come back once evening comes. Sometimes later, looking weary and excited at the same time from whatever adventure she got herself on."

Furrowing your brows, you think about what she mentioned earlier. "The journal. Have you ever seen it? Have you ever read what she wrote in it?"

Nanny Abigail presses her lips and shakes her head. "No, she used to keep it to herself. Kept it hidden in her bedchamber." Her gaze seems far away when she continues, "But she would talk about her day as she was writing about it. Sometimes she would do sketches. She would draw the places, the people she met, and the things she saw into these rough sketches for her to keep in her memory, but never once had she ever shown me anything she put down in that journal."

Talking about your mother and the things they used to do back then brings another smile to her face. And she talks as if the memory is still fresh, that everything is happening in the present instead of the past, that you can almost see it through her eyes, to feel your mother's presence the way Nanny Abigail is feeling it now. "Besides, even if I ever got a peek at her writing, I wouldn't have understood it," she adds.

"Why wouldn't you?"

"Your mother's quite adept with languages. She grew up speaking the language of the elves, and she was learning the native language of the moon fairies when she first began writing in that journal." Her sigh is filled with longing when she continues, "She left a page on her desk once, something that looked like a letter that fell from the journal. She was quick to hide it, but I remember not recognising the language or the letters that she used. I couldn't even read her scribbles, since she wrote them so quickly. Perhaps she had done it while on the road."

She laughs. "I think it's her way of keeping all the information she wrote a secret, only for certain people to be able to read them."

You lean forward, getting more and more curious about this journal that your mother had allegedly carried with her. "Do you know where it is now?" you try to ask. "Or is it—is it lost with most of her belongings?"

Nanny Abigail only answers with a resigned sigh. "No one knows. The Queen holds her secrets deeply, even in her absence." Her gaze finds yours as she raises her cup of tea to her lips. "Just like you do."

A beat of silence falls. The wheels in your head are turning wildly as you try to connect all the dots. The places you've been. The words that were given to you by the people you met.

But then all the puzzling clues you have gathered in your memory scatter when Nanny Abigail suddenly chastises you, "Of all the things you could have been doing in your free time, why did it have to be a sword fight?"

Scoffing, you raise your brows at her. "Are you wishing that I'd be doing embroideries instead?"

"Well, you could need some more work on that, for sure," she teases, making you laugh.

"Hah! Very funny," you respond with a chuckle. "But really, I was—" Sighing, you decide to share some truth about what has been troubling you. "I was bored, and I was getting too soft."

Nanny Abigail gives you an incredulous look. "From dancing?"

"From the lack of physical training," you bitterly admit, "I don't think Lord Gordan is brazen enough to defy my father in terms of giving me lessons in fighting."

You hear Nanny Abigail sighing as she mutters, "As if you still need one."

"You are good at dancing and yet you still practice when you have the chance."

Your governess looks at you, saying nothing, but you can tell that she is silently agreeing with you. But the world will end if she ever admits it to your face. "So," she says after sipping her tea. "Did you win?"

Your lips twist to a sly grin. "What do you think?"

One hour later, you find yourself returning to your quarters after a lazy afternoon. Your bedchamber is quiet, yet your mind is almost as lively as the rapid sound of your heartbeat as you reach for your dresser. Opening the top drawer, you find the set of keys gifted by your father. The magic keys cast silver and golden glow across the drawers and onto your face, the spell hums through the quiet space around you, as if asking why you haven't reached for them today.

Yet your gaze moves past them, landing on the small bundle that you had carried home with you from the fallen city of Arselon.

You slowly reach for it, lifting the bundle in your hand with precise care—as if the thing will crumble into dust under your fingers. The bundle felt small when Gaia first handed it to you, enough for you to slip it under your cloak when you took it home. With gentle fingers, you pry open the velvet fabric covering it, revealing three small items bound together by a thick, white thread.

The first item is a key; made of steel and mostly covered in rust, reminding you of the iron gate leading towards the forbidden part of the royal garden that you have yet to travel into.

The second is an old folded map; with an inscription on the front cover written in one of the native languages you have been learning from Lady Laurel. Elven tongue.

But what intrigues you the most is the third item. Weighing down on your palm is a small notebook. Small enough to fit in the small sling bag that you often carry with you when you are travelling or into the side pocket of your coat. The leather cover is tainted with ink stains and appears to be slightly worn out by age. The papers seem old and worn, with yellowing edges and some growing crisp and falling apart. Deep down, you have a feeling that you already know what this item is even without having to open it.

"I believe she also kept a journal with her..."

Nanny Abigail's voice echoes through your head as you gently run the tips of your fingers over the leather covering, finding the small initial embossed into the leather, right at the bottom corner of the front cover.

The inscription is made in a cursive letter, looking almost like a signed autograph marked into the leather coverings so it wouldn't wear away by the passing of time, and the inscription reads the letter 'M'.