"Her mother was called a mistake. But fire remembers what shame tries to erase".
No one spoke of the Empress's garden not in kitchens, not in whispers. It wasn't forbidden, exactly. It was just... forgotten by those who wished to stay alive.
Elara had only glimpsed it once, through a half-latched servant's door. Silver ivy veiled the archway like a secret. Inside, something pulsed a stillness that held its breath.
Now she stood in it.
The gates had opened without a word. Guards turned away. No explanation. No escort.
She walked alone into something older than the palace itself.
Moonlilies swayed on stalks of silver-threaded green. Petals brushed her skin like echoes. The air shimmered, not warm, not cold, just aware.
The Empress stood at the center wrapped in shadowed silk, without moving .
And beside her, Isla.
Perfect posture. Hair braided like it had never known wind. But her eyes,
Frozen.
Not wary. Not curious.
Just cold.
Elara felt it the moment she crossed the final step. A pressure, like stepping onto ground that rejected her.
Resentment. From Isla. Ancient, unspoken, sharp.
The Empress didn't acknowledge it.
"Elara," she said. Calm. Measured. "Come."
Her voice didn't command. It was enveloped.
Elara moved. Her boots made no sound on the moss-soft path. Scents tangled around her, wild mint, crushed petals, memory.
The Empress didn't turn. "I trust Ana woke you in time."
"She did, Your Majesty."
A pause stretched, taut as a wire.
"You've been in the palace for weeks," the Empress murmured. "And still, you carry yourself like one who polishes thresholds."
Elara's fists clenched. "Because I did. That doesn't fade overnight."
Only then did the Empress half-turn, and Elara's breath caught.
There, nestled at her collarbone, gleamed a pendant. No twin to Elara's, but shaped from the same impossible glass. Flickering. Alive.
Her hand moved to her own. Hidden beneath her cloak, still warm.
The Empress watched her.
"Do you believe in legacy?"
Elara hesitated. "I am not clear about what you meant."
"Most people don't." The Empress turned. Isla followed, silent, step for step. "We talk of legacy like it's a gift. A thing of gold and banners. But what do we truly inherit? Scars. Secrets. Silence."
Isla glanced back, but not with pity.
With disdain.
"You summoned me," Elara said. "Why?"
The Empress stopped.
"I once knew someone," she said. "She stood here too. Once."
Elara's voice barely reached her own ears. "My mother?"
The Empress's lips tilted not quite a smile. "A maid. Foolish enough to think love could climb walls."
Isla's mouth curled. A flash of scorn.
Elara stepped forward. "She wasn't just a maid."
"She was a mistake," the Empress said.
The word landed like a stone.
Elara's heart thudded. But it wasn't her who spoke next.
It was Isla.
Her voice is silk, sharp.
"And yet… her daughter stands here."
The Empress glanced at her. Sharp. Assessing.
But Isla smiled, eyes like frost.
"Gardens forget shame," she said. "But not seeds."
The Empress said nothing.
Then turned and walked.
Isla lingered only a breath, then brushed past Elara without a glance.
And Elara was left alone with moss and memory.
A wind stirred. Somewhere deeper, a chime rang. Fragile. Faint. Like a lullaby left behind.
Elara turned toward the sound. It pulled at her not her ears, but something older in her bones.
She looked back.
The path was empty.
BACK IN HER ROOM
She didn't remember the walk back. Only the silence.
Back in her chamber, Elara leaned against the door, her breath shallow.
Under her collar, she kept touching the pendant. It pulsed gently. Warm. As if aware.
The Empress wore one.
Not a coincidence.
A bond.
A key.
A warning.
Thoughts spun without edges. No answers, only the weight of questions that didn't yet know their names.
Then.
A shift. A shadow. She wasn't alone.
"I should ask how you keep getting in," she said quietly.
M stepped from the corner like dusk peeled off the wall.
"You won't like the answer."
She didn't smile. "Did you know?"
His gaze softened, but he didn't move.
"That my mother might've been, more?"
He didn't answer at once. His silence was never empty.
"She was more than they let you remember," he said. "But power… rewrites bloodlines."
Elara looked down. "The Empress called her a mistake."
"And you believe that?"
"I don't know what to believe."
M stepped closer. Light touched the pendant between them.
"Then believe the fire inside you. Not titles. Not tapestries. Fire tells the truth."
She closed her eyes.
"I think… my mother wasn't just a servant."
"No," he said. "She wasn't."
A knock cut the hush.
"Elara?" Ana's voice. Gentle. "May I?"
M vanished into the shadows like breath into fog.
Elara opened the door.
Ana studied her face. "You're pale."
"I'm fine."
Ana didn't press. "They say the garden changes you. That it shows you what you carry."
Elara said nothing.
She glanced at the empty corner.
Then down at the pendant.
Her mother had walked that garden once.
Carried her in silence. Loved in defiance.
And whatever the Empress buried her in, she hadn't vanished.
She'd left fire.
And fire does not forget.