Miles away from the Viremont estate, under the vast canopy of the night sky.

  ?The carriage rumbled steadily along the dark road. Inside, Aelira was sleeping, exhausted from the excitement of the capital.

  ?Suddenly, she gasped.

  ?Her eyes snapped open. Her hand flew to her chest, clutching the fabric of her nightshirt.

  ?A sharp, piercing pain stabbed through her heart. It wasn't physical—it was deeper. Cold and final. Like a thread snapping in the dark.

  ?“...Huh?”

  ?Tears sprang to her eyes, hot and fast. They slid down her cheeks before she even realized she was crying.

  ?She wiped her face, but the tears kept falling.

  ?“W-What is this? Why...?”

  ?An overwhelming wave of sadness crashed over her. A sense of loss so profound it stole her breath away. She curled up on the seat, her small shoulders shaking.

  ?Zaek, who had been dozing in the corner, opened one eye.

  ?“Nightmare?” he asked gently.

  ?Aelira shook her head, unable to speak. She just buried her face in her knees and sobbed, her cries lost to the rhythmic clatter of the wheels.

  ?Early the next morning, the carriage arrived at the Viremont mansion.

  ?The sun was shining, but the light felt pale and heatless.

  ?Aelira stepped out. Her eyes were red and puffy, her face pale. She looked up at the giant iron gates. They seemed taller than she remembered. Colder.

  ?“Are you okay?” Zaek asked, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You cried yourself to sleep last night.”

  ?“I... I don’t know,” Aelira whispered. “I just want to see Lassy.”

  ?The gates groaned open.

  ?Before the carriage had even fully stopped in the courtyard, Aelira jumped out. She stumbled but caught her balance and rushed toward the entrance.

  ?“Oi! Don’t rush!” Zaek called after her, grabbing their bags.

  ?She ignored him. She ran up the stone steps, her heart pounding in her chest.

  ?The household was gathered to greet them.

  ?Vivianne. Wilkram. Celdric. Lysric. Even Grandfather Sylas stood at the back.

  ?Everyone was there.

  ?Except one person.

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  ?Aelira stopped. She looked left. She looked right. She scanned the line of maids in the back.

  ?“Where is she?” Aelira whispered.

  ?Silence greeted her.

  ?“Where is Lassy?” she asked, louder this time.

  ?Vivianne stepped forward. Her expression was perfectly neutral. A mask of porcelain.

  ?“Aelira, calm down. Welcome home.”

  ?“Where is she?!” Aelira screamed, panic rising in her throat.

  ?Vivianne stiffened slightly. Her gaze flicked briefly to Celdric, then to Wilkram.

  ?Celdric’s jaw clenched. He looked away, focusing on a spot on the wall.

  ?“...” Vivianne exhaled slowly. “She is not here.”

  ?“Huh?” Aelira froze. “What do you mean... she is not here?”

  ?“You heard me. She left for her hometown yesterday. She said she missed her family.”

  ?Vivianne’s voice was steady. Smooth. Convincing.

  ?“She packed her bags and left. She said she will never return.”

  ?The words struck Aelira like a physical blow.

  ?The world blurred. The mansion, the people, the sky—everything seemed to spin and distort.

  ?“That’s a lie...” Aelira whispered.

  ?“It is the truth,” Vivianne said coldly. “That is why I told you not to trust anyone. Servants come and go. They leave when it suits them.”

  ?But Aelira wasn’t hearing her words. Her mind had shattered.

  ?She left? Without saying goodbye?

  ?No.

  ?She promised. She said she would wait.

  ?Aelira looked at the faces around her. Her father, looking guilty. Her uncle, looking grim. Her mother, looking bored.

  ?Liar.

  ?You are all liars.

  ?She stood there, small and broken, while the ghost of a lie settled over the house like a shroud.

  ?Far away, in a dimly lit room within the capital city of Aeliron.

  ?A man dressed in full black bishop’s robes sat at a desk, writing a letter by the light of a dying candle. The only sound in the room was the steady, maddening ticking of a pendulum clock.

  ?Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

  ?Knock. Knock.

  ?He didn’t look up.

  ?“You may enter.”

  ?A bald man in similar robes entered, bowing deeply. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

  ?“My deepest apologies for disturbing you, Cardinal Vergas.”

  ?“Bishop Edward.” Vergas set his pen down. His voice was like dry leaves scraping together. “I trust you have a good reason for this late visit. The Holy Maiden does not favor those who waste time.”

  ?Edward swallowed nervously. “Indeed. As you know, I was at the Palace today. I saw Hero Zaek.”

  ?“We already know he rejected the King’s offer,” Vergas said dismissively. “That old dog hates a leash.”

  ?“Yes. But there is more. It seems Zaek has taken a student.”

  ?Vergas paused. His dark, sunken eyes narrowed.

  ?“A student?”

  ?“Yes. A girl. She defeated Crown Prince Louis in a duel.” Edward’s voice trembled slightly. “Her abilities are... unnatural for a six-year-old. She moves like a veteran.”

  ?“A six-year-old?” Vergas leaned forward, the candlelight casting long shadows across his face. “Who is she?”

  ?“Aelira Viremont. Granddaughter of Sylas.”

  ?The name hung in the air like a curse.

  ?“Viremonts...” Vergas whispered. His voice dripped with ancient, festering hatred. “It seems they refuse to accept their fall. Old Sylas never knew when to die.”

  ?Silence settled over the room, heavy and suffocating.

  ?Edward walked to the window and unlatched it, letting in a faint draft of city air.

  ?“This room is stifling,” he muttered. “Forgive me.”

  ?Vergas stared at the flickering candle flame. He saw not fire, but a future he needed to burn.

  ?“Edward.”

  ?“Yes, Cardinal?”

  ?“We cannot afford failure. If the Viremonts truly intend to rise from the ashes... then we shall burn them back into the ground.”

  ?He blew out the candle. Smoke curled into the darkness.

  ?“In the Holy Maiden’s name.”

  Back in her room, Aelira lay curled in her bed.

  ?Her eyes were wide open, staring at the dark ceiling.

  ?The words echoed in her mind, over and over, mocking her.

  ?She will never return.

  ?Her throat burned, but no tears came. She had cried them all out in the carriage. Now, there was only a hollow ache. A void where her heart used to be.

  ?She clutched the pillow. It still smelled faintly of lavender. The scent of safety. The scent of a promise broken.

  ?Outside, the wind howled against the window, sounding like a woman weeping.

  ?Far beyond her trembling form, the gears of fate began to turn, grinding toward a war she could not yet imagine.

  The end.