“No… no… no…”

King Elias’s voice broke as he stared into the abyss below the shattered tower.

Rain lashed against his face, but he did not move.

“She cannot be gone,” he whispered. “She cannot…”

Queen Helena collapsed behind him, her cries echoing through the ruins.

“My baby… my child…”

But the storm gave no answer.

“Move.”

King Darius stepped forward, his tone sharp.

“We search below.”

Guards rushed down the tower stairs, torches blazing as they spread across the palace grounds.

The rain turned the earth to mud.

Lightning tore open the sky again and again.

Yet no cry came.

No sign of a fallen child.

King Malric walked to the edge and looked down.

Long.

Silent.

Then he spoke.

“She did not fall.”

Elias turned slowly, anger flashing through his grief.

“What did you say?”

Malric met his eyes.

“There is no body.”

“There will be!” Elias shouted. “Search harder!”

“They already are.”

Darius returned from the stairwell, rain dripping from his armor.

“Nothing,” he said.

Elias staggered back.

“That is impossible…”

Hours passed.

The storm weakened.

Torches burned low.

Still—

Nothing.

No body.

No blood.

No cry.

It was as if the princess had never fallen at all.

At dawn, the search was called off.

The palace stood in silence.

Exhausted guards lined the walls.

Servants whispered prayers.

And in the grand hall, the three kings gathered once more.

But everything had changed.

“She is dead.”

King Elias spoke the words like stone.

Queen Helena shook her head weakly.

“No… I would feel it…”

Darius folded his arms.

“If she had fallen from that height, there would be something left behind.”

Malric’s gaze was distant.

“But there is nothing.”

Elias slammed his hand against the throne.

“Then where is she?!”

No one answered.

Because no one knew.

A cold wind moved through the hall.

The great doors creaked open slowly.

All eyes turned.

A single figure stood at the entrance.

An old woman.

Bent.

Wrapped in dark cloth.

Rain had not touched her.

Guards rushed forward.

“Stop! Who are you?!”

She raised a hand.

They froze.

Not by force.

By fear.

The woman stepped inside.

Each footstep echoed like a warning.

She looked at the three kings.

Then at Queen Helena.

Then… she smiled.

“A child born in thunder cannot die by falling,” she said.

Her voice was thin—but powerful.

Elias stepped forward.

“Who are you?”

The woman ignored the question.

“You search the ground,” she continued. “But you should be searching fate.”

Darius’s hand moved toward his sword.

“Speak clearly.”

The woman’s eyes glowed faintly.

“Your daughter lives.”

Queen Helena gasped.

“Where?!”

The woman turned her head slowly… toward the north.

Toward the frozen kingdom.

Malric did not move.

But his eyes sharpened.

“That is impossible,” Elias said.

“She was here.”

“She was,” the woman replied. “And now… she is where she was always meant to be.”

Silence filled the hall.

Then the woman took one step back.

“She will grow,” she whispered.

“She will choose.”

“And when she does…”

Her smile widened.

“Kings will fall.”

The torches flickered violently.

The doors slammed shut.

And the woman—

Vanished.

No footsteps.

No shadow.

Nothing.

The three kings stood in silence.

But now—

Fear had turned into something far more dangerous.

Certainty.

King Malric was the first to speak.

“If she is in the north…”

Elias looked at him sharply.

“You know something.”

Malric’s voice was calm.

“I know this—if the child lives in my land, then fate has already chosen its path.”

Darius stepped forward.

“And what path is that?”

Malric met both their eyes.

“One that will decide who keeps their crown…”

“And who loses everything.”

Far beyond the mountains of Norvain…

Deep within a forest untouched by man…

A small figure lay sleeping on cold stone.

Unharmed.

Unbroken.

Alive.

The child opened her silver eyes.

And the forest… began to whisper.