The moonlight poured gently through the palace windows as Serenil sat alone in the royal library, poring over ancient scrolls and tomes about interspecies diplomacy. The weight of the recent political decisions burdened his mind. Despite his stoic nature, Serenil could not ignore the complex emotions stirred by the arranged betrothals to Liselotte and Roanna.
Suddenly, he sensed a shift in the air. A faint pulse of magic—a presence.
"You're troubled," came a soft voice.
Serenil turned, his fingers brushing the hilt of Voidrender. It was Roanna, cloaked in shadows, her heterochromatic eyes glowing subtly in the dim light.
"Shouldn't you be in your chambers?"
She stepped closer, removing her hood. "I could say the same to you, husband-to-be."
He met her gaze. "What do you want?"
Roanna smiled, her expression unreadable. "I want to understand you, Serenil Aetheryn. They say you're a prodigy, a ghost of a swordsman with a blade born from nothingness. But I want to see the man beneath."
"There is no man beneath," he replied flatly. "Just a duty."
"A duty you carry alone," she whispered, placing a hand on his. "You saved three lives once. You could've ended them. I believe your heart is not as cold as you pretend."
He pulled his hand back, but her words lingered long after she vanished into the dark.