The Redmond estate slept with the same unease as the rest of Diodain.

Sven moved through the shadows of the garden, his heart pounding in his ears. The tall windows reflected the moon like open eyes, watchful for any movement that might betray him.

Nébula floated at his side, dimming her glow as if she understood that, on this night, they must not be seen.

Dyro was not asleep. Sven knew it even before he made out the light behind the curtain.

With a brief gesture, he signaled Nébula to go ahead. The creature climbed up to the window and eased it open without a sound. It wasn’t long before Dyro slipped down carefully into the garden.

“I expected to see you tomorrow at the cathedral,” he whispered. “Is something wrong? Did they do something to you?”

“Do you remember when I told you about my dreams before I left?” Sven replied. “It’s all real. I can’t explain it now, but I have to go.”

He paused. His voice trembled as he admitted what truly mattered.

“And I don’t want to go alone.”

Dyro noticed the tremor in his hands. He asked no questions. He yielded to whatever Sven might ask of him.

“Wherever you go, I go,” he said. “Even if it’s into the abyss.”

Sven released the breath he had been holding and pulled him into a tight embrace—steadying himself as much as him.

“No one can know,” he murmured at last. “They must not notice.”

“Then we’ll take only what we need.”

Dyro gathered his most trusted sword. Sven slipped into the mansion with care and retrieved his family’s spear, fastening it across his back with straps. They changed into simple clothes, concealing any trace of nobility, and took whatever coins they could carry.

Sven approached the stables. Lumi lifted his head at the sight of him, restless.

Dyro stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“We can’t take him. He would draw too much attention.”

Sven nodded, a knot tightening in his throat. He left the pegasus behind, as he left so many things that night.

With only the essentials, they set out north, skirting the city until they disappeared into the shadows.

At the edge of Diodain, Sven stopped. In the distance, the palace rose upon the hill, outlined against the moon, as if bearing silent witness to his escape.

He wondered if he could ever be forgiven.

Dyro took his hand, pulling him away from the city, and their figures vanished into the darkness of the night forest.

The light of dawn streamed in at an angle through the palace windows, gilding the drapes and marble walls.

Eidan woke with the strange sensation that something was out of place. The murmur of the palace was already alive—hurried footsteps, whispered orders, fabrics dragging along the corridors. Everything sounded as it should… and yet, his chest felt hollow.

He sat up slowly, as if his body resisted the day itself.

“Your Highness…” a butler spoke from the half-open door. “Forgive me for disturbing you so early.”

The man did not lift his gaze. He held an envelope between his fingers, as though it burned.

“We found this with your name on it.”

The name was not spoken, but Eidan heard it all the same.

He sprang to his feet and crossed the room without even putting on his robe. He took the envelope. He recognized the handwriting at once. His pulse turned uneven.

“Where is he?” he asked, his voice sharper than he intended.

The servant shook his head.

Eidan broke the seal with clumsy fingers. The paper crackled in the sudden silence of the room.

He read the first line—but did not reach the second.

The air left his lungs as the envelope slipped from his hand and fell to the floor.

He remained standing there, motionless, as though the world had just moved on without him.