The three kings did not speak.

They moved.

Boots struck marble as Elias, Darius, and Malric stormed through the palace halls, followed by guards and servants who struggled to keep up.

“No one enters or leaves the palace,” Elias ordered. “Seal every gate!”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

Torches were lit. Steel was drawn. Fear spread faster than the storm outside.

---

The nursery doors stood open.

Two guards lay slumped against the wall, breathing—but unmoving, as if trapped in a deep, unnatural sleep.

King Elias rushed inside.

The cradle was empty.

The golden cloth lay folded as if untouched.

Queen Helena stood beside it, her face drained of all color.

“Where is she?” Elias demanded.

Helena did not answer.

She simply pointed.

At the far corner of the room… a window stood open.

Rain drifted softly inside.

And on the stone floor beneath it—

Footprints.

Small.

Bare.

Leading outward into the storm.

Elias stared in disbelief.

“That is impossible.”

“She is a newborn,” Helena whispered. “She cannot walk.”

But the footprints did not lie.

---

King Darius crouched beside them, studying each mark.

“They are fresh,” he said quietly. “And they go only one way.”

Malric stepped closer, his eyes sharp.

“Not taken,” he murmured.

“Leaving.”

Elias turned on him.

“She is a child!”

Malric did not flinch.

“Then something else walks in her place.”

Silence fell.

Even the rain seemed to pause.

---

A sudden cry echoed from the corridor.

A servant ran toward them, shaking.

“She’s been seen!”

All three kings moved at once.

“Where?” Elias barked.

“The upper halls—near the old tower!”

---

The broken tower.

The one struck by lightning.

---

They climbed the winding stairs, torches flickering against ancient stone.

The higher they went, the colder the air became.

Wind howled through cracks in the walls.

And then—

They saw her.

At the very edge of the shattered tower, where stone had fallen away into darkness, stood the infant princess.

Barefoot.

Unmoving.

Her small form silhouetted against the storm.

Lightning flashed—

And for a heartbeat, her shadow stretched across the walls… far larger than it should have been.

Queen Helena gasped.

“My child…”

Elias stepped forward slowly.

“Seraphina.”

The baby did not turn.

Another bolt of lightning split the sky.

This time, she lifted her head.

Slowly.

As if hearing something beyond them.

Then—

She laughed.

A soft, echoing sound.

Not of fear.

Not of pain.

But of knowing.

The kings froze.

Because no newborn laughs like that.

---

Darius gripped his sword.

“Bring her back.”

Malric’s voice was low.

“Careful.”

Elias moved closer, heart pounding.

“Seraphina… come to me.”

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the child turned.

Her silver eyes glowed faintly in the stormlight.

And she took a step—

Not toward her father.

But toward the edge.

“No!” Helena screamed.

Elias lunged forward—

But before he could reach her—

The wind roared.

The storm exploded.

And the child vanished from the tower.

Gone.

Into the night.

---

Silence followed.

Only the rain remained.

King Elias fell to his knees at the broken edge, staring into the darkness below.

“No…”

Behind him, Darius and Malric stood still.

Neither spoke.

Because both understood what this meant.

This was no longer about one child.

Or one kingdom.

Something had begun.

And whatever it was…

It would not end in peace.