The skies over Solaris darkened to a heavy gray as night draped itself over the palace. Oil lamps flickered along crimson-carpeted corridors, casting long shadows upon intricately carved walls. In the main guest chamber of the east wing, Aurelia Vaelthorn stood with her back to the tall windows, watching the starless heavens.
"Welcome back to the palace where you were judged and humiliated," she thought. Her hand clenched at her blood-red and black night cloak.
On a small table in the corner lay an untouched invitation from the Crown Prince.
"An honorary banquet to commemorate the peace that has been achieved."
"Peace? There's no peace in this palace. Only smiles with daggers beneath."
A soft knock disturbed her thoughts. Once. Then twice.
Aurelia said nothing. But the door creaked open.
Caelum Thorne stepped in with steady steps, cloaked in a dark mantle and a slender sword at his waist. He shut the door carefully behind him.
"You haven't eaten," he said.
Aurelia turned slightly, her voice sharp.
"Is monitoring my appetite now part of a guard's duties?"
"A guard's duty is to ensure you're alive. Hunger makes people reckless."
He remained still, even as her stare pierced him.
"Are you always this obedient?" she asked.
"I once learned from a man who died for being otherwise."
Caelum's tone was flat, but his eyes spoke far more.
Aurelia drifted to the table, touching a goblet of wine she hadn't sipped.
"Do you always obey the Crown Prince's orders?"
Caelum nodded. "I don't have the luxury of choosing which commands deserve obedience."
Aurelia tilted her head. "So if tomorrow he ordered you to kill me, you would?"
Silence. Only the night spoke — wind brushing leaves, distant hooves.
Caelum stepped forward.
"I suppose I'd ask why, first."
Aurelia studied him quietly, noting how his face concealed nothing — yet revealed little. Like a blade with no gleam, but sharp in its purpose.
"You're different from the court knights."
"I wasn't raised here."
"Where?"
"The north. Where snow falls even in spring."
Aurelia exhaled softly. "That explains the frost in your gaze."
"And you, Princess Vaelthorn — do your eyes always measure people like you're calculating how many wounds would break them?"
Aurelia smirked. "I just dislike being watched without intent."
Caelum held his breath a moment.
"Maybe I was trying to understand."
"Understand what?"
"How someone could return to the place that destroyed her... and still stand."
Silence crept again. Aurelia stepped toward a small balcony. The night air bit at her skin, but she remained there, staring at the palace courtyard.
Her voice was barely above a whisper. "I didn't come back because I wanted to. I came back because they must remember my name."
Caelum stood at the threshold of the balcony, near enough to hear her breath, far enough to offer space.
"Do you believe history can be changed from within?" he asked.
"I don't want to change it," she said. "I want to rewrite it — with their blood as ink."
Caelum looked to the sky. "You speak like someone unafraid of dying."
"I've been dead to them since I was fifteen."
"What stands here is only the shadow they made. Now I control that shadow."
She turned, and their eyes met — time paused for a heartbeat.
Caelum spoke, his voice gentler.
"If that shadow begins to crack... who will you let see through it?"
"No one."
"Are you certain?"
Aurelia didn't answer. But her gaze no longer pierced — only lingered in silence.
Moments later, a distant servant's voice echoed — a new decree from Serion had arrived.
Caelum turned, nodding. "I'll read it and return."
As he stepped away, Aurelia called softly.
"Caelum."
He looked back.
"Have you ever betrayed an order?"
"Not yet."
"But maybe one day."
Aurelia smiled. For the first time that night, it wasn't laced with venom.