I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 157: Lorithae

Elysia had no idea where they were going.

Malvoria hadn’t given her a single clue beyond the infuriatingly vague, "You’ll see." But despite herself and despite how much she loathed being left in suspense she felt something giddy and light in her chest.

Maybe it was the fresh mountain air. Maybe it was the way her muscles still felt warm and pleasantly sore from yesterday’s hike.

Or maybe it was the memory of Malvoria’s laugh—low, genuine, rare—that kept replaying in her head like an echo she didn’t want to lose.

She had taken her time getting ready that morning, choosing something different: a sleek black travel suit, not bulky but snug enough to move in, the kind with reinforced boots and thick but breathable fabric that hugged her figure.

She’d pulled her hair back into a tight braid that swung between her shoulder blades, and even added a small utility belt, just in case. No tunics today. This was an adventure, and she wanted to look—and feel—the part.

When she stepped out into the sun-drenched clearing, the light caught her eyes for a moment.

The cabin stood quiet behind her, framed by tall, ancient pines, and beyond that, Malvoria stood waiting like she always did—arms crossed, the wind tugging at the hem of her cloak, face calm, composed, unreadable... but somehow more.

She was dressed in travel gear again—more casual than royal, but no less intimidating. Deep charcoal pants tucked into black boots, a fitted dark blue shirt rolled at the sleeves, showing the subtle definition of muscle along her forearms, and a half-cloak secured across her chest.

Her long, red braid had been tied neatly back, and she looked annoyingly good, like someone pulled from a painting of a heroic epic.

Elysia let her eyes linger a moment longer than necessary.

"Ready?" Malvoria asked, turning to look at her.

"Born ready," Elysia muttered, trying not to let her voice betray the slight flutter of nerves—and something else—buzzing under her skin.

"Let’s go," Malvoria said, and with that, they began.

The path wound away from the cabin, cutting through dense forest. It wasn’t the trail from before, Elysia noticed. This one was smaller, overgrown in places, like it hadn’t been walked in years.

The trees grew taller here, older, their canopies shading the path in cool shadow, the light breaking through in glittering threads of gold.

Every step seemed to echo with birdsong, the rustle of branches, the distant hum of magic lingering in the air.

Elysia walked behind her at first, admiring the path, the way the wind curved through the trees, how even the moss along the stones seemed to glow faintly in the filtered sunlight.

But the terrain grew uneven quickly, and without a word, Malvoria slowed, glanced back—and offered her hand.

Just like that.

No explanation.

No dramatic pause.

Just fingers extended, palm open, waiting.

Elysia blinked.

And then, without thinking, without questioning why the sight of it made her chest tighten, she took it.

Malvoria’s hand closed around hers—warm, calloused, steady. Their fingers slid together like it had always been meant to be that way. And neither of them said a word.

They walked like that, step by step, breath by breath. And the longer it went on, the harder it became for Elysia to focus on anything else.

Every shift of their joined hands, every time Malvoria’s thumb brushed lightly over hers, sent little sparks up her arm, like magic.

The forest around them became a blur of color and light and dappled shadow, but Malvoria’s presence remained sharp, grounding.

And then Elysia broke the silence.

"Okay, seriously. How far is it?"

Malvoria didn’t look over. "A while."

Elysia groaned. "That’s not an answer."

"It is."

"It’s vague and terrible. Give me a real one."

"We’ll get there when we get there."

Elysia rolled her eyes. "That’s such a ’mysterious demon queen’ thing to say."

"Thank you."

"It wasn’t a compliment."

"It sounded like one."

They walked for another ten minutes in silence.

Elysia huffed. "Are we close?"

Malvoria’s lips twitched faintly. "Closer than we were five minutes ago."

"You are infuriating."

"I get that a lot."

The trees around them shifted again, thinning as they climbed higher. The path was turning steeper now, stone mixing with dirt beneath their boots, and ahead, the sky began to open between branches, the sunlight brightening.

They paused at a break in the path to take a drink of water, and Elysia bent down, brushing sweat from her brow, muttering, "You’re lucky I’m in shape, or I’d be pushing you off the mountain right now."

"Who said I’d let you?"

Elysia gave her a side glance, lips twitching. "You’re lucky I like you."

"You like me?" Malvoria asked, one brow rising.

"Don’t push it."

They continued upward, hand in hand, the air cooler now, tinged with the fresh scent of pine and something faintly sweet.

Magic, maybe. Elysia wasn’t sure. But it hummed in her bones, soft and low and steady, pulling them onward.

And then, just past a bend in the trail where the trees curved away like guardians parting for royalty, they stepped into a clearing.

And Elysia stopped in her tracks.

There, in the center of the meadow, stood the most majestic tree she had ever seen.

It towered above them, its trunk wide and gnarled with age, roots weaving like ancient ribbons across the ground.

But it was the leaves that made Elysia breathless—thousands of soft, delicate pink leaves fluttered from its vast branches like petals caught in a wind that never ended.

The entire tree glowed faintly with magic, light catching the edges of the leaves and turning them to gold.

Tiny threads of light danced from branch to branch, like stars caught in the canopy. The trunk itself was etched with glowing runes—language older than anything Elysia had studied—softly pulsing with life.

She took a slow, trembling breath.

"...It’s beautiful."

Malvoria’s voice was quiet. "I know."

Elysia took a few slow steps forward, eyes wide. The soft grass beneath her boots gave way to flower patches—purple and white and pale blue, blooming in clusters around the base of the tree.

"What is this place?" she whispered.

"It’s called Lorithae," Malvoria said, stepping beside her. "It’s one of the last living heart trees. They grow where ancient magic still lingers. This one’s been here for thousands of years."

Elysia turned slowly in place, watching as pink petals drifted down like soft snow, catching in her braid, her sleeves, her lashes.

"It’s like something out of a dream."

"I use to come here when I was a child with my moms," Malvoria murmured.

Elysia turned to her, startled.

Malvoria’s gaze was distant, somewhere between the branches. "I never came here again after Lucindra left."

And that, more than anything, made something twist in Elysia’s chest.

This wasn’t just another adventure.

This was personal.

She stepped closer to the tree, fingers reaching out to brush the bark. It was warm to the touch, pulsing softly with magic, like a heartbeat.

Malvoria didn’t speak again.

She just stood near, hands folded behind her back, watching Elysia as if committing the sight to memory.

And in that pink-dappled clearing, with petals falling like confetti around them, Elysia felt something shift.

Something deep.

She had no idea what this day would bring, or why Malvoria had brought her here, truly.

But for now, she didn’t want to leave.

And as the wind caught her braid, lifting a few silver strands loose around her face, she smiled.