"You always have a way of getting attention," Ronan mocked from the shadows behind her.
Grace did not turn. "Ugh, not now, Ronan."
"You'd better come in soon," he called as he stepped toward the palace doors. "It's getting late."
Silence followed his retreat. The moon hung high above the courtyard pond, its silver light trembling over the water's surface.
Grace exhaled slowly. Alright… I can do this. Harmony between my soul, body, and power.
She closed her eyes and reached inward, searching for the quiet place where her pulse and the rhythm of the world met. The water stirred. At first it rippled, then rose obediently into the air, swirling around her like a living veil. She guided it carefully, shaping it into a translucent shield.
For a heartbeat, it held.
Then it shattered into droplets, collapsing back into the pond with a sharp splash.
A growl of frustration escaped her throat. She tried again. And again.
By the time the stars began to fade, her limbs trembled from exhaustion. The water lay still, as if mocking her effort. With a final sigh, Grace surrendered to the night and returned to her chambers.
Far beyond the borders of Aetherion, deep within the shadowed forests, rose the dark-spired kingdom of Zerathion.
Its throne room burned with crimson light.
The queen sat upon her towering seat of black stone, her posture regal, her beauty edged with danger. Though her face remained composed, unease flickered in her eyes as she waited.
At last, the heavy doors opened.
"Mother," Prince Azrion called playfully as he strode inside, his voice smooth as embers in the wind. "How have you been?"
The queen's gaze sharpened. "Is that how you greet your queen? Your stubbornness will be the death of me, Azrion."
He smirked. "Now, Mother—"
"Where have you been?" she demanded, her voice echoing across the chamber. "Let me guess. The borders. Again."
Azrion's jaw tightened. "I merely showed someone their place. The people of Aetherion and Zerathion do not mix."
"Whoever trespasses is not yours to judge," she replied coldly. "You know nothing—at least not as much as you believe. Be useful for once, my son. Obey."
The command struck harder than any blade.
Azrion turned sharply, fire flashing in his eyes, and stormed from the hall.
Later, alone in a small cavern near his courtyard, he leaned against the cool stone wall. The faint glow of molten rock cast restless shadows across his face.
He could not stop thinking about her.
"That good-for-nothing princess," he muttered. "It's her fault. I should have burned her when I had the chance."
Yet the memory of her trembling form lingered—vulnerable, defiant.
He scoffed, pushing the thought away. "If she dares cross into our borders again, I'll remind her that fire and water do not mix."
Morning broke gently over Aetherion. Birds sang from the palace gardens, and the air carried the scent of dew and blooming lilies.
"Good morning, Your Majesty," Renee said softly, drawing back the curtains.
Grace stirred. "Oh dear… I had the strangest dream. I was—" She stopped abruptly, blinking at her attendant. "Oh."
"Are you alright, Princess Crystal?" Renee asked, puzzled but concerned.
Grace forced a laugh. "Of course. Just sleep talking. Good morning. This definitely isn't a dream," she whispered to herself.
"Breakfast will be served soon, Your Majesty."
"Yes… of course." Grace hesitated before adding, "Renee, I'm sorry about yesterday."
"It's alright," Renee replied gently. "I'm sorry I didn't reach you sooner."
Grace smiled faintly. "Can I ask you something? My memory is still… unclear."
"Anything, Princess."
"What is the history between Aetherion and Zerathion?"
Renee paused. "It's an ancient story. Even I don't know all of it. But since the death of King Ignivar of Zerathion, strict laws were set—no citizen from either kingdom may cross the other's borders."
Grace frowned. "That sounds… severe."
"It wasn't always this way," Renee continued quietly. "Long ago, the two lands were one kingdom. What divided them, only the rulers truly know."
A chill ran through Grace. "Do you think they blame us for their king's death?"
"Some might," Renee admitted. "It would explain their hostility."
Grace nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you, Renee. You truly are good with history."
Renee laughed softly. "I try my best."
Soon after, Grace(Crystal to her kingdom) sat at the long dining table, sunlight glinting against her faintly scaled brown skin and shimmering gown. She carried herself with elegance, though unease coiled within her.
Just as she rose to leave, her father's voice halted her.
"Crystal, my treasure."
She turned. "Yes, Father?"
His eyes were searching. "When you were brought home from the borders, you were in terrible condition. Tell me… did someone or something attack you?"
The room seemed to freeze.
Grace's heartbeat thundered in her ears.
If I tell him, it could spark war. But he tried to kill me…
Her fingers curled at her sides.
I can't drag my family into this. I can't.
She lifted her gaze slowly, standing at the edge of truth and silence—knowing that whatever she chose next could ignite flames far greater than her own.