The Summer King and His Winter Bride-Chapter 62: Time

The garden of the Spring Court was a riot of colors, violets and golds blooming where no sun reached, petals whispering secrets to the wind.

Beneath an arching trellis of starflowers, Queen Arabella stood cloaked in dark green, her presence like shadow amid the brightness and the colors.

King Cyrus was late. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

His crown was woven with living thorns, vines curling up his arms like they adored him. His smile was lazy, but his eyes were green as emerald missing nothing.

"You summoned me to a garden," he said, strolling toward her with a flourish. "Should I be flattered or worried?"

Arabella didn’t smile. "You should be afraid."

Cyrus arched a brow. "Now that’s a greeting."

She turned, folding her gloved hands. "He’s awake."

Cyrus grew still. Even the flowers seemed to hold their breath.

"You’re certain?" he asked softly.

She met his gaze. "He’s not just a myth. Not a story to frighten seers into obedience. He was real. Is real and he remembers."

Cyrus’s jaw ticked. "How?"

"I spoke with Sylas."

At that, the king gave a short, bitter laugh. "Of course you did. Dug up your old sins, didn’t you."

Arabella’s voice was cold and sharp. "We share the blame, Cyrus. Don’t pretend your court’s hands are clean."

He turned away, fingers trailing across a flowering branch. "Elian of the Night Isles. The king who dared to speak of magic beyond the Courts. The one our ancestors silenced. Hollowed out like a carcass and cast into legend."

Arabella stepped closer. "He wasn’t wrong."

"No," Cyrus said, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "He was just inconvenient."

There was silence between them, thick with old truths.

Arabella broke it. "He’ll come for us. Not just for thrones or vengeance. He wants to destroy the world we built from his ruin."

Cyrus looked up at the sky, where the light never quite touched. "And what do you suggest we do, Arabella? That we kneel before him? Offer him tea and apologies?"

She stepped forward, voice low. "I suggest we remember. Every word they struck from the record. Every magic they swore never existed. If we stand a chance, we must name what they buried."

Cyrus’s smile faded. "And if naming it brings it closer?"

"It’s already here."

He studied her, eyes narrowed. "So. The queen of autumn and secrets comes seeking alliance or absolution?"

"Neither," she said. "Just time."

Cyrus considered this before he reached down and plucked a white blossom from a nearby bush.

"Time," he murmured. "Such a delicate thing. Like this flower, lovely, fragile and prone to rot."

He crushed it between his fingers and let the petals fall.

"I’ll give you three days," he said. "After that, the Spring Court will act as it sees fit."

Arabella bowed her head slightly. "That’s more than I expected."

"It’s less than you need," Cyrus replied, already turning away. "But it’s what you deserve."

"I have already sent Sylas to appease the Warden and ask her for a solution."

Cyrus thought about this for a moment.

"I do not believe she will be of any help."

"Why?" Arabella asked.

"Because I won’t be surprised if he remembers and kills her first before Sylas can reach her."

Cyrus added dryly.

"I will bring this up to Casimir and Caroline." Cyrus said finally before leaving the garden.

The atmosphere in the war room of the Summer Palace was charged, a heavy silence hanging over the trio as they sat around a grand, oak table.

The flickering light of lanterns illuminated the scrolls spread before them, maps, old texts, and fragments of arcane lore.

King Casimir’s gaze was fixed on the faded letters, his brow furrowed. Beside him, Queen Caroline’s hand rested on the map, fingers grazing the boundary lines of the Autumn and Spring courts. But both of them were looking to the third figure in the room.

King Cyrus stood, leaning against the far wall, his arms folded. His presence filled the space, a tension that contrasted with the serene gardens just outside the palace.

He had come from the Spring Court’s deepest chambers. Tonight, his tone was cautious, far from the casual arrogance he often carried.

"We are not the only ones afraid of the Hollow King," Cyrus said, his voice low. "His awakening is a threat to all of us. More so than any rebellion or border skirmish."

Casimir’s jaw tightened. "We know. But his power isn’t what we can see, it’s what’s hidden. Sylas spoke of things that made my skin crawl. The Hollow King controls more than just the Night Isles’ remnants. He controls memory. That’s why they erased him."

Caroline lifted her chin, her cool eyes locking with Cyrus’s. "If he controls memory... does he also control time? The past?"

Cyrus’s smile was thin, a hint of bitter amusement in his gaze. "Not time itself, my queen. But time can be bent when one can manipulate history. Elian or the Hollow King wants to rewrite it. He’s made himself the forgotten king, but with each passing year, he erases a piece of himself from the records. You know better than anyone, Caroline, how dangerous it is to remove history from the court."

Caroline’s fingers clenched into a fist against the table. "A king whose name is buried by his own people. A king who was erased from the records and whose return would undo everything we’ve fought to rebuild. That’s a weapon we can’t afford."

Casimir leaned forward, a dangerous calm to his demeanor. "If the Hollow King wants to rewrite history, we need to find a way to rewrite him. To strip him of this power."

Cyrus’s lips curled into a cruel smile. "You believe you can outsmart the Hollow King? His mind is older than your kingdoms combined and his power is not bound to land or courts. His strength lies in what you do not know.

Casimir’s eyes flashed with understanding. "Then there’s something I don’t remember."

"Yes," Cyrus said, his tone turning serious. "Something forgotten. There’s a piece of Elian before he was made hollow. Before they locked him away. A secret buried even in his own heart."

Caroline’s voice was tight with restraint. "And what is that secret?"

Cyrus pushed away from the wall, stepping closer to the table. "It’s simple. Power always has a weakness and the Hollow King for all his craft is not immune. His memories are the things he has erased, which are the key. The more he forgets, the more vulnerable he becomes."

Casimir’s brow furrowed. "But if his memories are so dangerous, how do we use them against him?"

Cyrus smiled wickedly. "Find the moment he was shattered. The moment he lost himself. There’s a crack in the foundation of his power, and it’s buried deep in his mind. If you can uncover that moment, you can destroy the very thing that made him the Hollow King."

Caroline’s gaze was distant, her thoughts racing. "Where do we start looking? He’s erased so much."

"The records," Cyrus said simply. "The ones that still exist. The Codex of Ashfall was never fully destroyed. That’s your first lead."

Caroline’s eyes narrowed. "And if we find it? What do we do when we uncover the truth?"

Cyrus’s voice lowered to a whisper. "You make him remember his fall. He can’t stand the weight of his own brokenness. Not if he’s forced to face it."

Casimir gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles white. "We’ll find him and we’ll break him before he can undo us."

Cyrus’s smile widened. "Be careful, Casimir. You may have power but the Hollow King has been waiting for this moment for a long time.