The moon hung low over the quiet city, casting a pale light on the palace balcony. Everything was still. No cries, no fire, no marching boots. Just wind soft, cool, and real.Evelyn stood there, arms crossed over her robe, staring into the night. Her silver hair blew across her face, but she didn’t bother to push it away. She looked tired. Not just in the way people get after a long day, but in the way people carry years of mistakes in their bones.Behind her, Adrian stepped onto the balcony. His footsteps were quiet, but Evelyn didn’t need to turn. She knew it was him.“You couldn’t sleep either" she said softly.“No" he answered, walking to stand beside her. “I haven’t been sleeping much lately"They stood in silence, side by side, gazing at the city that once burned and now whispered. It looked peaceful, almost unreal. But underneath that quiet was a strange, aching weight.“It’s strange" Evelyn said after a while, her voice cracking a little. “We fought so long to survive, to keep

The forest was quiet. Too quiet.Not the kind of quiet that made you feel calm. This quiet was heavy. It pressed down on Damien’s chest like a stone. He kept walking slowly through the trees, his fingers lightly brushing the rough bark of each trunk as he passed.The morning mist wrapped around his legs like soft fingers, cold and strange. Somewhere above, a few birds sang, but even their songs sounded distant, like they were being careful not to disturb the sadness hanging in the air.Everything around him was full of color green leaves, brown trees, soft blue sky peeking through the canopy but in Damien’s eyes, it all looked gray. Lifeless.He hadn’t said much since Elara disappeared. Not to Evelyn. Not to Adrian. Not even to himself.Sometimes, silence is louder than any scream.His feet moved on their own, leading him to a familiar place a small grove hidden deep in the woods. It was peaceful, untouched, like time had forgotten it.This was Elara’s secret place.She used to come h

The sound of wooden swords clashing rang across the training field.Adrian stood at the edge of the wide dusty ground, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His eyes were sharp, following every move the young recruits made. They were new to all this fresh-faced boys who had grown up in times of peace. Their armor still shone. Their hands didn’t know what it meant to bleed for something. Their faces held no scars, only the glow of youth and eagerness.Too soft, Adrian thought. Too hopeful.He had seen too much war to believe in innocence anymore.Across the field, the boys practiced their drills. Their swords wobbled in their grip. Their feet moved without rhythm. Some grinned, thinking this was all just practice a game to win, a lesson to pass.Adrian’s voice cut through the air like a whip.“Keep your elbows in!” he barked. “Your enemy won’t wait for you to fix your stance"The boys froze, startled by the sharpness in his tone. One of them dropped his wooden sword with a loud clack ag

The first drop touched her cheek like a whisper.Evelyn paused, her face tilted to the sky. For a moment, she thought it was a tear. Her own, maybe. Or one that had fallen from memory. But then came another.And another.Rain.Real rain.Not storm-born. Not angry. Just... soft.She stepped barefoot onto the palace courtyard. The stones were cool beneath her feet, slick with the gentle fall of water. It had been so long since the sky had wept without fire in its throat. So long since clouds carried only grief and not thunder.She didn’t know where she was walking. She wasn’t trying to go anywhere.She just let her body follow the rain.Each drop felt like a breath. Like a voice. Like Elara.She passed the blackened pillar where her daughter once trained. Where Elara’s hands, wrapped in old cloth, had struck again and again fire flickering behind every furious punch. That stubborn spark. That endless need to prove she was more than control.Further on, she walked under the arch of roses

The city had quieted since the festival, but its heart still pulsed. Soft echoes of music floated from balconies, laughter slipped like old melodies through alleyways, and fire lilies bloomed brighter than ever—as if something in the soil had changed. As if her memory still stirred the roots.Damien sat alone beside the old well near the edge of the palace gardens. The stone beneath him was warm with midday sun, though he hardly noticed it. Sketchbook balanced on one knee, he moved his pencil with steady hands. Faces spilled out—some from memory, others from places only his mind knew. A child’s joy. An old man’s frown. A faceless dancer mid-spin.But no matter how he tried, Elara’s eyes kept appearing. Sometimes clear and soft. Other times aflame. He'd shade them out, erase them, sketch over—but they always came back.He didn’t notice the shadow until it touched the paper.“Are you the queen’s brother?” a small voice asked.He looked up, blinking.A little girl stood in front of him b