Fabale left.
I... Octavio de Obelion... the crown prince. Future king of this land.
What a joke.
How could I ever carry the weight of a kingdom when I couldn't even survive a single night outside without someone saving me?
The so-called "hope of Obelion" now sat hunched in silence—hopeless, questioning everything he thought he was.
The world I once imagined—crafted from stories and royal teachings—now felt foreign.
They said a king is like a father to his people. And the people, like children, love and respect their king.
But there is no land without shadows. I thought if I held a sword, I could protect Obelion… but I couldn't even protect myself.
What can you even do, Octavio?
Lying on the narrow inn bed, he turned his face toward the ceiling, trying to escape his thoughts. But they clung to him.
His mind echoed with the warmth of a voice long gone—his mother's.
"My brave son. My sun."
He hadn't cried when the robbers beat him. He hadn't cried in shame when Fabale found him.
But now, two silent tears slid down the side of his face.
You had faith in me, Mother... but your son doesn't have faith in himself. I'm sorry—for disappointing you.
I'm sorry…
And with those words, Octavio drifted into sleep.
---
Inside the dream—
He opened his eyes slowly.
A breeze whispered past his cheek, warm and earthy.
He was sitting in the middle of a sunlit field of golden crops. Far ahead, the horizon swayed gently under a cloudless sky.
This...
This is where Mother brought me when I was little…
"My baby, you're awake."
The soft voice floated through the golden breeze.
Octavio blinked. "M... Mother?"
Queen Elaria stood before him, glowing in the sunlight, her long golden hair swaying gently like the crops that surrounded them.
"Yes, my baby," she said with a smile. "Look around. Isn't the field beautiful?"
Octavio turned his gaze to the horizon—an endless stretch of golden grain dancing under a wide, blue sky. The wind brushed against his cheek like a memory. His voice trembled.
"I remember... I was five when you brought me here," he whispered. "You held me in your arms, and I looked at the golden field, the gentle wind, and the vast blue sky."
He looked at her and smiled. "It's beautiful—just like you."
She laughed, her voice soft as wind chimes. "Oh Octavio, my sun. You've made me feel like the most beautiful woman on Earth."
"But you know," she added with a playful sparkle in her eyes, "your father used to say my eyes weren't like the sky—but like the sea."
Octavio paused, then replied, "But Mother... I've never seen the sea. That's why... I don't know if it's more beautiful than the sky."
Queen Elaria's eyes warmed. "That's exactly why you must go see it, my love. Both the sea and sky are blue, but they are beautiful in their own ways. You can't truly compare them until you've seen both."
She stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "Humans are like that, too—good and bad, strong and weak. You can't understand anyone—not even yourself—until you've seen both sides. You can't make wise choices if you don't know the pros and cons."
Octavio's voice trembled. "But... what if I can't do it?"
She pulled him into a warm embrace. "Then start again."
He clung to her. "What if I fall again, Mother?"
She placed her hand gently on the back of his head. "Then stand up again. Fall, and rise. Fall, and rise. That's how we grow, my sun."
"Learning is a process. Don't stop just because it's hard."
"You can do it. My love. My sun."
—
Octavio woke up.
Sunlight streamed through the cracked window, painting lines of gold across his face. The air smelled of dew and bread, and the distant song of birds whispered that morning had come.
And this time, Octavio didn't look away from the light.