Vaelen had watched her change.

From the shadows of the training hall, the council chamber, the warded courtyards, he measured each line of her growth like a ledger. Ten years had carved the child into something precise. A blade. Her smile had vanished into memory; her laughter belonged only to dreams.

 

He told himself this was necessary.

Better a weapon than a wound.

Better an unfeeling shadow than a girl who could be broken.

 

And yet, some nights he wondered if he had built her too sharp—something even he could no longer hold.

 

Still, she had become what he required: silent, loyal, unseen. The perfect sword.

 

—-

 

Aelira moved through the palace as if she were a shadow no one dared acknowledge. Servants never spoke her name. Guards never asked where she went. The council never marked her presence.

 

Vaelen had allowed it.

 

She had earned that much—freedom within the cage. Her steps went unheard, her movements unseen, but never uncontrolled. She had been forged into silence, into a blade honed so finely it no longer needed to gleam. A sword hidden in the sheath of the royal halls.

 

And of all the places she could walk, one had become hers.

 

The old tree that leaned over the queen’s garden. Thick branches twisted like the bones of time, bark scarred and dark. From high among its limbs, she could see the path where Kaeyla walked each day after court, robes brushing against the stones, attendants trailing behind at a respectful distance. No one knew Aelira perched above, and no one ever looked high enough to see.

 

She preferred it that way.

 

From there, she watched.

 

Today, the hour was golden. Sunlight slanted across the palace roofs, setting fire to the banners and catching in Kaeyla’s hair. Her sister moved like sunlight given form—red hair untamed, laughter scattering in the breeze, her face radiant with life. She looked so much like their father in that moment: wild, alive, untouchable.

 

Aelira’s lips curved faintly. It was not a smile born of joy, but of something darker—condemnation wrapped in quiet satisfaction.

 

This was why she existed.

 

Her cage. Her silence. Her bloodied hands. All of it was so Kaeyla could laugh in the open air. So Kaeyla could walk unburdened beneath the sun. So Kaeyla could live the life of a queen without ever seeing the shadow who guarded it.

 

Aelira compared the two of them as she always did.

 

Kaeyla’s steps were light, her voice bright. She wore silk and jewels, her fingers inked with decrees that steered a kingdom. She belonged to the world, adored by it, claimed by it.

 

And Aelira? She had killed more than she had smiled. Her skin bore scars of training and battle. Her magic was sharpened into something merciless, her emotions filed down until only obedience remained. She was nothing but the blade in the dark—polished, perfected, hidden away.

 

Sometimes she wondered if Kaeyla ever felt it—the shadow lingering at her back. The eyes that never left her. Did her sister know what price was being paid in her name?

 

But the thought always faded. It didn’t matter if Kaeyla knew. It mattered only that she was free to live.

 

The wind shifted.

 

Kaeyla turned her head, just slightly, her laughter falling quiet as her gaze drifted toward the old tree. Her eyes swept over the branches where Aelira crouched, hidden in silence.

 

For one breath, it felt as though Kaeyla was staring directly at her.

 

But then the moment passed. Kaeyla’s attendants called softly, and she turned back, continuing her walk down the garden path, her voice bright again as if nothing had brushed her mind.

 

Aelira exhaled. Her form remained still against the branch, the bark biting faintly into her palms.

 

Unseen. Unnamed.

 

As it was meant to be.

--- 

Author’s recommendion

Read with song 

Sacrifice by Lilith Max 

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