The peace in Solthera was no longer a fragile thing; it had become a way of life. For years, the shadows of Zhalver seemed to have vanished, and even the mention of Draeven Zareth felt like a bad dream that the world had finally outgrown. King Aetheron, Lord Kaelor, and Lady Seraphine lived in a golden bubble of contentment, watching the next generation take shape.
But the training grounds told a different story.
"Again, Azeal! Your footing is soft!" Lord Kaelor's voice boomed across the stone courtyard.
Azeal grunted, his practice sword swinging in a wide arc. He was built like a king, with shoulders broad enough to carry a kingdom's hopes. But his movements were heavy with thought. Before he could reset his stance, a flash of silver blurred past his vision.
Thwack.
Azeal felt the cold sting of a wooden blade against his ribs. He tumbled into the dirt, coughing.
"You're dead, Prince," Vaelora said, standing over him.
She wasn't even breathless. Being raised as the daughter of the kingdom's greatest general had turned Vaelora into something lethal. She was the best warrior in the court—faster, sharper, and always one step ahead of Azeal. While he was the Prince everyone looked up to, she was the one who actually won the fights.
"I wasn't ready," Azeal growled, pushing himself up. His pride was bruised more than his ribs. He hated losing, especially to her.
They stood chest-to-chest, the air between them electric. It wasn't the bond of siblings, but the intense connection of two rivals who had grown up in each other's pockets. They were each other's mirror—always together, yet always clashing.
From the high balcony, Aetheron watched them with a faint smile. He didn't see a Lord's daughter and a Prince; he saw his true daughter and the boy who would one day be her King. In his mind, the plan was perfect.
But Kaelor, standing beside him, looked toward the North. The silence from Zhalver had lasted too long.
"They are happy, Aetheron," Kaelor whispered. "They don't know the weight of the lies we've told."
"Let them be happy for now," the King replied. "Let them believe the world is simple."
Below them, Vaelora laughed as she disarmed Azeal for the third time. It was a beautiful, clear sound. But as the sun began to set, the Starbloom vines at the edge of the garden shivered. The golden age was at its peak, and in Solthera, every high peak was followed by a long, dark shadow.