The morning after Ayla’s soul had settled in Cryssa’s body, the girl took her first steps outside her room in nearly a month.

  Now, walking through the grand corridor, Cryssa felt the emptiness more keenly than ever.

  What had once been a lively artery of the Stelluna estate, filled with the rhythmic steps of knights, the hushed bustle of maids, and the occasional clatter of trays or armored boots… was now hauntingly still.

  The civil war, which had erupted only a month prior, had left a brutal scar on the household. It had not only claimed the lives of guards and knights, but it had claimed the butlers, the maids, and even administrative staff.

  Only a handful of servants remained, less than ten loyal maids, still faithfully tending to the quiet, broken house.

  Since that day, Lyra Stelluna, Cryssa’s older sister and the newly appointed head of the house, had refused to bring in new help. Not due to a lack of resources, but because she no longer trusted anyone.

  The betrayal had come from within.

  It hadn’t been merely the ambition of their late uncle or the betrayal of Lyra’s late husband, Gareth, that had brought the family to ruin. It had been the very people closest to their late father, his trusted aides, who had acted as spies and saboteurs. The deception had run deep.

  Now Countess Stelluna, Lyra bore it all… the loss, the betrayal, the crumbling legacy of their family… all of them.

  With Gareth gone, slain in the final clash, he had been the last knight to bear the Stelluna name. Lyra herself had never trained with a sword for over a decade. Her strength had always been in diplomacy and governance, skills she’d honed beside their father.

  Cryssa, on the other hand, had never been physically strong. She wasn’t frail, exactly, but she lacked the stamina and constitution to become a knight. Nor had she ever desired to. Her world revolved around the gentler things such as flowing dresses, sweet pastries, quiet afternoons spent learning embroidery.

  Now, the once-great Stelluna family had dwindled to three:

  Lyra, Cryssa, and Lyra’s only daughter, Roxy.

  A noble family in title alone. No defenders. No glory. Just three women trying to survive the wreckage of what had once been a proud house.

  As Ayla, silent and watchful within Cryssa’s consciousness, absorbed the full extent of the situation, Cryssa arrived at the doors of the lord’s office.

  She raised her hand to knock, but before she could, an angry voice rang out from within, abrasive and far too disrespectful for anyone addressing a noble.

  “Countess, the debt is due tomorrow. No more delays!”

  The door suddenly burst open. A man in merchant’s attire stormed out, nearly colliding with Cryssa in the hallway. Their eyes met, and then he brushed past her without a word, vanishing into the corridor.

  Cryssa turned to the now-open office door.

  Inside, her sister sat slumped at her desk, surrounded by towering stacks of parchment and ledgers. The papers looked like they might swallow her whole. Her hands pressed against her forehead, golden hair veiling her face like a curtain between her and the weight of the burdens she carried.

  At twenty-five years old, Lyra looked exhausted.

  Cryssa stood in the doorway for a moment, heart heavy. Then, quietly, she stepped inside and closed the door.

  “Sis…”

  Cryssa’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

  Lyra’s head shot up in surprise. Her eyes widened as they locked onto Cryssa, and in the next instant, she rushed forward with sudden, overwhelming emotion.

  “Cryssa…!”

  Lyra breathed, pulling her into a tight embrace.

  “Cryssa! You’re out… You finally came out of your room!”

  There was no hesitation in her voice, no restraint in her arms. Lyra had always been affectionate, always treated Cryssa like the little sister she wanted to shield from the world. She’d embraced her like this many times in the past, but this time… it was different.

  Cryssa felt it immediately.

  This wasn’t just a warm welcome.

  It was a lifeline.

  A desperate, trembling attempt to draw comfort, not only for Cryssa, but also for Lyra herself.

  Lyra’s arms trembled slightly, and in that moment, Cryssa could feel it all.

  The weariness, the loneliness, the invisible weight Lyra carried every day.

  “I’m sorry for making you worry, sis.”

  Cryssa murmured, her voice muffled against her sister’s shoulder.

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  Normally, she would have gently resisted the embrace, embarrassed by how childlike it made her feel. But not this time. This time, she lifted her arms and wrapped them tightly around Lyra’s back.

  Lyra stiffened in surprise. She hadn’t expected Cryssa to return the hug, she never had before.

  But when she realized it was real, her expression softened even more, and she held on tighter, burying her face into Cryssa’s hair.

  “Mhm. As long as you're okay… that’s all I could ever ask for.”

  The hug lingered, longer than either was used to. Neither pulled away. Not until Lyra, with some reluctance, finally released her hold and leaned back, brushing her fingers gently over Cryssa’s cheek.

  Her eyes searched Cryssa’s face, a subtle tilt of her head showing concern.

  “What’s wrong? Did you want something?”

  Cryssa hesitated.

  She and Ayla had planned to speak with Lyra today, to warn her about the impending catastrophe.

  But now, seeing her sister so drained, so burdened, the words stuck in her throat. She didn’t want to add another stone to the mountain Lyra already carried.

  (“We don’t have a choice,”)

  Ayla’s voice echoed gently in her mind.

  (“We can’t stop what’s coming on our own. Without her help, we all will die. Lyra and Roxy included.”)

  Her words were harsh, but it was the truth.

  Cryssa bit her lip.

  “But… she looked so exhausted.”

  Her thoughts reached Ayla effortlessly now, the two of them having practiced their silent communication just the night before. It was like sound transmission magic, only within the mind.

  (“Then let’s start with her burden first, we will help her.”)

  Ayla suggested.

  (“We’ll know if it’s the right time to ask for her help.”)

  Cryssa nodded slightly, lost in thought. Her sister’s voice pulled her back.

  “Cryssa? Are you alright?”

  Lyra reached forward, placing a gentle hand on her forehead.

  “You’re not feverish… Are you hungry? I’ll ask the maid to bring you some cookies—”

  “I’m fine, sis.”

  Cryssa interrupted quickly, catching Lyra’s hand before she could leave. Lyra blinked her eyes.

  “Really?”

  Cryssa nodded again, more firmly this time.

  “Yes. But… you looked so troubled earlier. That man… was he talking about debt? Do we… Do we owe someone money?”

  The question hung heavy in the air. Lyra was quiet for a moment, visibly shaken.

  Her little sister, once shielded from every hardship, was now standing here, concerned about the family matters.

  “It’s nothing.”

  Lyra replied, forcing a small smile as she reached to brush Cryssa’s silver hair aside.

  But Cryssa gently caught her sister’s hand and held it with both of hers. She didn’t let go unlike usual.

  Her expression turned serious as she tightened her grip on Lyra’s hand. Her voice trembled as her heart poured into each word.

  “Sis… you're all I have left. You and Roxy. If I ever lost either of you…”

  Her throat tightened.

  “I don’t think I could bear it.”

  Lyra's eyes widened and startled, not just by the words, but by the intensity behind them.

  Cryssa had always been reluctant to express deeper emotions.

  To see her like this now… was like seeing a different person altogether.

  Cryssa’s gaze didn’t waver. Her eyes didn’t shimmer with tears, but with a fierce, aching sincerity.

  “So please. Don’t shut me out. Don’t carry this burden alone. Let me help. Let me carry your problem, even just a little.”

  Lyra’s lips parted slightly, as if she meant to respond, but the words caught. Her breath trembled.

  The warmth of her sister’s hands in hers, the depth of her plea…

  It broke through the wall she didn’t even realize she had built.

  And then, silence fell. It wasn’t just the absence of sound. It was the stillness that comes when love is laid bare.

  A silence filled not with emptiness, but with the unspoken truth between them.

  They still had each other.

  Then, unexpectedly, Lyra let out a soft, breathless chuckle, the kind that slips out when the weight in your chest begins to ease, just a little.

  “I see… My little Cryssa has grown up.”

  Cryssa’s heart lifted at her sister’s warmer tone, though she quickly pouted and released Lyra’s hand.

  “Hmph. My coming-of-age ceremony was two years ago. You’re the one who refuses to believe it.”

  “Yes, yes.”

  Lyra said with a faint smile, brushing off a sudden wave of emotion.

  “Come, let’s sit.”

  She moved back to her desk, and Cryssa followed, sitting across from her. Lyra leaned back and exhaled deeply, as though preparing herself to spill secrets she’d kept buried from her.

  “Uncle Cassian… borrowed money to hire mercenaries for his rebellion.”

  Cryssa’s breath caught in her throat.

  “…And that bastard—”

  Lyra’s voice cracked as the word slipped out. She flinched, bit it back, and exhaled shakily.

  “Gareth…”

  Her eyes dropped to the desk, fingers curling slightly on its edge.

  “He had gambling debts from before our wedding, and they kept piling up until last month. He kept them hidden all this time, and I…”

  Her voice faltered, thick with regret.

  “I didn’t even know it.”

  She gave a hollow laugh, bitter and soft.

  “I thought I knew him. But… I knew nothing.”

  Shock flashed in Cryssa’s eyes, and Ayla stirred within her, neither of them had anticipated the depth of the problem.

  Lyra continued bitterly.

  “And coincidentally, both of them borrowed money from the same man. That merchant you saw earlier.”

  Her hands clenched into fists.

  “They used his money to cover their obligations. So the mercenary guild and the gambling dens won’t come knocking. But now…”

  Cryssa’s eyes widened. She could feel the answer coming before Lyra even said it. Then she murmured.

  “…now, we owe him.”

  Lyra nodded. Then she added, more quietly than ever.

  “And the amount… it would empty the entire Stelluna gold vault… and even then, we’d still owe a half of the debt.”

  The words landed like stones. A once-noble house, once feared by monsters and men alike, was on the verge of collapse… not from catastrophe, but from the weight of inherited sins.

  Cryssa said nothing. She sat there, hands trembling slightly, as the realization sank in.

  The monster threatening Stelluna hadn’t come with claws or swords.

  It had worn familiar faces.

  And it had already done its damage.

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