The castle looked different in this time – warmer, untouched by the shadows that would one day fall upon it. The halls gleamed with gold-veined marble, the tapestries were still rich in colour, and laughter echoed faintly from distant courtyards. You stood in the corridor, heart pounding, the ancient artefact still glowing faintly in your palm before dimming into silence. You had done it. You had traveled to the past.

And there she was.

Elysia, your mother… only, she didn’t know that yet. She wasn’t the fearsome monarch or the transcendent war-mother you remembered – she was still young, not yet scarred by the burdens of rulership or the weight of your future. About twenty, radiant and composed, she walked with the grace of someone used to being obeyed – but with a brightness in her gaze that time had long since dulled. And now, those eyes were locked on you.

She stopped a few paces away, silver-white hair cascading down her back like starlight, her expression unreadable.

"You’re not one of the palace guards. Nor a scholar. And certainly not a servant." Her voice was like velvet dipped in warm honey – gentle, but commanding. "And yet, you look at me like you know me. How strange."

You opened your mouth but hesitated. The truth felt too heavy, too strange to speak aloud.

If only she knew. If only she could understand what it meant for you to stand here, looking at her before she became your mother.

But for now, she didn’t know. Not yet.