The warmth of the moment was fleeting.
Before Aelira could finish the last bite of bread, the heavy door creaked open. Footsteps echoed into the chamber—calm, deliberate, too familiar. They sent a chill crawling down her spine.
Yuan straightened immediately.
Gone was the boy with flushed cheeks and awkward silence. In his place stood a disciplined young guard, sword to his back, gaze lowered.
Vaelen entered.
His presence alone dimmed the room, as though even the flickering crystal lamps bowed to his gravity. He moved like time had no claim on him—tall, cloaked in midnight robes stitched with constellations, his silver-streaked hair bound tightly behind him. Eyes like collapsing stars swept over the room before resting on the girl in the bed.
“You can go,” he said to Yuan, voice flat and composed.
Yuan didn’t speak, only bowed once and stepped out. But not before casting a fleeting glance at Aelira—something unreadable, perhaps reluctant.
The door closed behind him with a muffled thud.
The silence that followed was oppressive. The air itself seemed to weigh on Aelira’s tiny chest.
Her breath shook. “I… I want to go home.”
Vaelen didn’t answer.
“I want to see Mother,” she whispered, tears forming at the corner of her eyes. “And Kaeyla. I want to see Kaeyla.”
His expression barely shifted.
But behind those quiet eyes, something twitched.
Aelira sobbed, wiping her face with small hands. “Why can’t I see them…? Where are they?”
Vaelen stepped forward, the rustle of his robes harsh in the stillness. “There is no longer home for you. You’ll remain here,” he said, his voice neither cruel nor kind—just final. “Until you learn to be still. Until you learn to be safe.”
Aelira’s eyes widened. “Safe…?”
He looked down at her then, and for the first time, something cracked in his expression. Not pity—grief. Regret. And maybe… fear.
“Do not speak of your parents again,” he said, colder now. “You don’t understand the weight of what you’ve done.”
She flinched, even without understanding the meaning behind his words.
He turned away from her tears. “There are books in these halls. Knowledge drawn from centuries of magic, kingdoms, gods. Learn. Especially about the energy that lies in you. You feel it, don’t you?”
She hugged her knees, nodding slightly.
“Yuan will instruct you. He’s young, but he understands discipline. He’ll keep you in check.”
Then, he pointed—at her chest. His voice dropped low, firm.
“If you don’t want to hurt Kaeyla again—learn to control that power.”
Aelira’s breath caught in her throat. She didn’t understand what he meant. But the way he said her sister’s name—it sounded like a wound.
“Until when” her voice cracked, “Someday..can I see Kaeyla…?”
Vaelen didn’t answer.
He simply walked toward the door.
“Do not leave this quarter,” he said without turning back. “Do not talk to people“; “Do not let other know who you were, Princess Aelira“; “There is nowhere for you to go.”
He opened the door.
“Be good,” he added, almost like a threat. “Or more will be lost.”
Then he disappeared into the hall, leaving her in silence.
And in that silence, Aelira sobbed into the blankets, her heart too small to carry the shame placed upon it.
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