The sun was setting over the Kingdom of Thera, casting long, golden shadows across the white stone of the palace. It had been many years since the blood had dried on the battlefield and the black smoke of the tyrant king had blown away into the winds of the past. Now, the air smelled of blooming jasmine and the sweet, dusty scent of old parchment from the royal library.
Solace stood on the very same balcony where she had once watched the dark legions of Aevum march toward her home. She was no longer the scarred mercenary in dirt-stained leathers, but the passage of time had not dulled the sharpness in her eyes. On her finger, the delicate ring Alaric had given her still shimmered, a constant reminder of the day two broken thrones became one.
A soft footstep sounded behind her. She didn't need to turn to know it was him. Alaric's presence still gave her that strange, warm heat—the one she used to avoid like a plague but now cherished as her greatest comfort.
"The festivities in the town square are just beginning," Alaric said, his voice a deep, familiar rumble. He stepped beside her, his hand finding hers and locking their fingers together. "The people are still cheering your name, Solace."
"They are cheering for us, Alaric," she corrected him with a playful, regal tilt of her head. "And for the peace we built from the ashes."
As they looked out over their kingdom, a young girl with dark, wind-swept hair and eyes full of golden light ran onto the balcony. She held a small wooden sword in one hand and a tattered map in the other. This was Elara, the heir to both kingdoms; Thera and Aevum carrying the strength of her father and the ancient magic of her mother.
"Mother! Father! Look!" Elara exclaimed, pointing toward the horizon where the hidden gates of Thera once stood. "The silver trumpets are blowing again! Does it mean someone is coming home?"
Solace knelt down, pulling her daughter into a hug. She remembered the letter from her own parents—the one that called her a little soldier in the middle of winter. She looked at Elara and then back at Alaric, who was watching them with a gaze filled with pure kindness.
"It means the gates are always open, my little one," Solace whispered. "It means that no matter how far someone wanders, they will always find their way back to a home that loves them."
The trumpets sounded once more, a triumphant, melodic gush of wind that echoed through the valleys of Thera and the forests of Aevum. The darkness that once blinded the world was gone, replaced by a light that would never fade as long as they had each other.
They stood together—the King, the Queen, and the Future—watching the stars begin to twinkle over a kingdom that was no longer a ghost. Thera was alive, and its story was only just beginning.