The study was drowning in paper.

  ?Documents covered every inch of surface—the heavy mahogany desk, the armchairs, even the floor. Books lay open like wounded birds, their spines cracked, pages marked with hasty, frantic notes.

  ?A single candle flickered on the desk, casting long, dancing shadows that deepened the room’s corners.

  ?Celdric stood behind the buried desk. His eyes were fixed on the woman standing amidst the chaos.

  ?His wife.

  ?Elda Viremont.

  ?She stood tall, her posture confident, almost defiant. Her black hair was tied in a simple knot, and her purple dress was the only splash of color in the drab, paper-choked room.

  ?She had listened to his explanation in silence. Now, he waited for her verdict.

  ?“So,” Elda said finally, her voice flat. “You’re telling me... this is your plan.”

  ?“Yes.”

  ?Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

  ?Celdric searched her face for anger, disappointment, fear—anything he could argue against. Anything he could manage.

  ?Instead, he found only weary resignation. The look of someone who had heard the same lie a thousand times.

  ?“When will you see what you should actually be valuing, Celdric?”

  ?Her voice carried no heat. Just exhaustion.

  ?The question struck deeper than any shout.

  ?Celdric’s jaw tightened. “I am seeing it. This is for our family’s sake. If I let my reckless sister take control—”

  ?“For our family’s sake.” Elda let out a bitter, dry laugh. “Do you even believe those words anymore? This isn’t for our family. It’s for you. Or worse—for that old man.”

  ?He had known this was coming. She always insisted he wasn’t protecting anyone, that he was only serving his own ambition.

  ?“If you keep doing this,” Elda continued, her voice dropping to a whisper, “we’ll lose our other son too.”

  ?Celdric flinched.

  ?There it is. The wound that never heals.

  ?“We haven’t lost anyone,” he snapped, his voice hardening. “He’s safe. He’s fine.”

  ?Elda’s smile was soft, mocking, and deeply sad. “Safe and fine... but not our son anymore. Not really.”

  ?“What are you implying?”

  ?“That you need to face the truth.” She turned toward the door. “Before it’s too late. Before you lose Lysric too.”

  ?“Don’t be ridiculous.”

  ?Elda paused at the threshold, her hand resting on the doorframe. She looked back at him one last time.

  ?“Your eyes are drowning in too much darkness, Celdric. One day, you’ll look up and realize you can’t see the surface anymore.”

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  ?“Elda—”

  ?Her green eyes held a flicker of hope. Waiting. Begging him to stop. To say something real.

  ?He said nothing.

  ?And just like that, the hope died.

  ?She closed her eyes, exhaled slowly, and walked away.

  ?Click.

  ?The door shut with terrible finality.

  ?Celdric stood alone in the silence. For a long moment, he stared at the wood grain of the closed door.

  ?Then, the head he held so high before his subordinates, before his father, before the world—bowed.

  ?“Not our son...” he whispered to the empty room.

  ?His breath came faster. Louder.

  ?“Aargh!”

  ?With a violent sweep of his arm, he sent the documents and books flying.

  ?Crash!

  ?Papers scattered like startled white birds. A heavy tome hit the wall with a dull thud.

  ?He leaned over the desk, gripping the edge until his knuckles turned white, panting heavily.

  ?Knock. Knock.

  ?Celdric froze.

  ?He drew a sharp breath. He straightened his clothes, ran a hand through his messy hair, and composed his face into a mask of cold control.

  ?He glanced at the mess surrounding him. Nothing to be done about it now.

  ?“Come in.”

  ?The door opened. A maid entered.

  ?Her eyes widened slightly at the chaos on the floor, but she quickly lowered her gaze and bowed.

  ?“You called for me, sir.”

  ?“Yes.” Celdric’s voice was smooth again. “It seems the old Hero will be heading to the Palace soon.”

  ?The maid nodded, her eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

  ?“Good.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “And about the other matter...”

  ?He locked eyes with her.

  ?“You know what to do. Don’t you?”

  ?The maid stood rigid. Breath hitched in her throat. Anxiety flickered across her plain face.

  ?“Y-Yes, sir.”

  ?“I want you to tell me everything you learn. Everything. Do not fail me.”

  ?A confident, predatory smirk crossed his face.

  ?The woman nodded, unable to meet his eyes.

  ?“Leave.”

  ?She hurried out. The room fell silent again, save for the soft crackle of the dying candle.

  ?Elda walked the empty corridors alone.

  ?Her footsteps echoed off the cold marble. Moonlight filtered through the tall windows, casting silver bars across the floor—like a prison.

  ?Each time, he slips further away.

  ?Twenty years of marriage. It had started as politics—two families, one alliance. Nothing more.

  ?But then... she had fallen in love.

  ?Real love. The kind that came from watching him smile at small kindnesses, from seeing him gentle with their newborn son, from stolen moments when he forgot to be the perfect heir.

  ?Until...

  ?She shook her head, trying to dispel the memories. They clung to her like smoke.

  ?She lifted her eyes. A small figure stood in the corridor ahead.

  ?“Aunt Elda?”

  ?Elda blinked, pulled back to the present. “Aelira.”

  ?The girl’s silver eyes studied her with a concern far too old for her years. “Are you feeling well?”

  ?Elda forced a smile, pushing down the weight in her chest. “Aelira... isn’t it rather late for you to be awake?”

  ?Before the girl could answer, Elda reached out. She couldn't help herself. She gently squeezed Aelira's soft cheeks.

  ?“I was about to...” Aelira mumbled, her words muffled by the squishing.

  ?Elda’s forced smile softened into something genuine. The simple innocence was a balm to her soul.

  ?“Y-you know...” Aelira said shyly, looking down at her fidgeting fingers. “I awakened my magic. And then I learned my affinity—it’s Ice. Like... like how all Viremonts have.”

  ?The pride in her small voice was unmistakable.

  ?Elda’s heart squeezed painfully. She knelt down, meeting Aelira at eye level, and gently patted her head.

  ?“How admirable.”

  ?I wanted a daughter too, she thought, her throat tightening. I wanted so many things.

  ?“Now, you should return to bed,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. “If you don’t sleep early, you won’t grow tall and strong.”

  ?“O-okay.”

  ?“Let’s go, Lady Aelira.”

  ?Elda startled. She hadn’t noticed the shadow standing nearby.

  ?Lassandra stepped into the light and took Aelira’s hand.

  ?Elda froze. The color drained from her face.

  ?“Lassandra...” she breathed. The name came out strangled.

  ?She swayed, losing her balance for a moment.

  ?“Lady Elda?” Lassandra frowned, concern etching her features. “Is there something wrong? Are you feeling well?”

  ?Elda took a sharp step back, raising a hand to keep distance between them. “I’m fine. Just a little dizzy. That’s all.”

  ?“Are you certain? You look pale—”

  ?“Yes. Thank you.” The words were sharp. Too fast.

  ?“A-Aunt Elda...?” Aelira asked, her voice small and frightened.

  ?Elda forced the smile back onto her face, though her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird.

  ?“You don’t need to worry, sweetheart. I promise.”

  ?She waved them away, keeping the smile frozen in place until they disappeared around the corner.

  ?The moment they were gone, Elda’s smile collapsed.

  ?She leaned against the wall, sliding down until she hit the floor. She buried her face in her hands.

  ?A painful expression took its place—an expression of pity, bitter shame, and silent despair.