Music filled the grand halls of the high minister castle.
Golden chandeliers shimmered above, casting soft light over silk, jewels, and laughter. Nobles moved gracefully across the polished floors, their voices blending into a refined hum of celebration.
Prince Damian stood among them but he did not belong to the moment.
"Your Highness," a voice called sweetly.
He turned slightly to see one of the minister's daughters approaching, her smile carefully crafted, her gown flowing like water behind her.
Lady Serin.
"It is an honor you came to celebrate my father," she said, bowing her head just enough to appear modest.
Damian nodded once. "He has served the kingdom well."
Her sister, Lady Maris, appeared moments later, sliding into place beside her. "We were just speaking of you," she said lightly.
"I doubt that," Damian replied, his tone calm but distant.
The sisters exchanged a quick glance.
"Oh, but we were," Maris insisted. "The future king should not stand alone on a night like this."
Serin leaned closer, lowering her voice. "You must be… lonely, carrying such responsibility."
Damian's gaze shifted past them, already uninterested.
"Responsibility is not loneliness," he said.
"Then what is it?" she pressed gently.
"A choice."
The word settled heavily between them.
Before either could respond, laughter erupted nearby as the High Minister himself approached, his presence commanding attention.
"Prince Damian!" he boomed, arms open wide. "You honor my house!"
Damian inclined his head. "Your influence honors the kingdom."
The minister chuckled, clearly pleased. "Come, come. Tonight, you must relax. Even kings need joy."
Behind him, his daughters straightened, hopeful once again.
But Damian's eyes had already drifted away.
Unmoved.
Far away, in the bustling heart of Auentia's market Chaos.
"She's coming today, I'm telling you!"
"You said that yesterday!"
"I've already placed my coins...she WILL come!"
A group of men huddled around, arguing loudly, exchanging small pouches of money.
A gambler slammed his hand down. "If she doesn't show, I take everything!"
"Then prepare to lose!" another shot back.
At that exact moment,
The distant creaking of wheels echoed.
Heads turned.
"Is that.. .?"
"It's her!"
"It's her!!"
The market erupted.
Divura's wagons rolled in, heavier than before, stacked with sacks and jars. Her workers struggled to control the crowd as people surged forward.
"Stand back!"
"One line!"
"Don't push!"
Divura stepped down calmly, her presence alone cutting through the noise.
"Everyone will be served," she said firmly. "But not like this."
Her voice carried authority.
Surprisingly… the crowd began to settle.
A man muttered, "She speaks like nobility…"
Another replied, "Or like someone used to being obeyed."
Divura ignored them.
"Set the tables," she instructed her workers. "Separate bulk orders from small purchases."
"Yes, my lady!"
Within minutes, order began to form out of chaos.
"Ten measures of brown sugar!"
"Five of salt!"
"I need white sugar ,only the best!"
Coins clinked. Voices overlapped.
A woman gasped as she received her goods. "I never thought I would afford this…"
Nearby, a man narrowed his eyes at Divura.
"Wait," he said slowly. "I know her."
The noise around him dimmed slightly.
"She's the one… the healer… the girl who saved that child last week!"
"What?"
"The one with the fever!"
"Yes! That's her!"
Murmurs spread like wildfire.
"She heals… and trades?"
"How is that possible?"
"She must be blessed…"
Divura felt the shift but did not react.
One of her workers whispered, "My lady… they're starting to see you differently."
"Let them," she replied quietly.
Soon, servants dressed in fine uniforms began arriving.
"For Lord Henris."
"For Lady Caldor."
"For the council house."
They dropped heavy coins without hesitation.
Teren leaned close, stunned. "Even the high officials…"
"They follow value," Divura said. "Not status."
The line grew longer.
Faster,louder.
Then
A royal carriage rolled slowly past the market.
The noise softened, just slightly.
Inside, veiled in elegance, sat Queen Seraphina the third queen.
She was not meant to notice anything.
And yet her gaze shifted.
Toward the stall.
Toward the girl.
Toward Divura.
Time… seemed to pause.
"…stop," she murmured.
The carriage slowed.
Her maid looked confused. "Your Majesty?"
Seraphina didn't respond immediately.
Her eyes were fixed.
On Divura.
On her face.
On her movements.
And then her eyes.
A flicker.
A memory.
Something buried deep… clawing its way to the surface.
"…those eyes…" she whispered.
"My Queen?" the maid asked again.
Seraphina's fingers tightened slightly against her gown.
"It's nothing," she said but her voice lacked certainty.
Still, she could not look away.
A strange, unsettling familiarity washed over her.
Like seeing a ghost she could not name.
"Go," she said suddenly, her tone sharper now. "Get me some of that sugar."
The maid blinked. "From… the market, my Queen?"
"Yes."
The maid hurried out, weaving through the crowd.
Moments later, she returned with a small portion of white sugar.
Seraphina took it, staring at it briefly… then tasting.
Her eyes widened slightly.
"…remarkable," she murmured.
But even that did not hold her attention for long.
Her gaze returned to Divura.
Still serving.
Still calm.
Still… unfamiliar.
And yet not.
"Leave," Seraphina said abruptly.
The carriage began to move again.
But as it rolled away, her eyes lingered until the very last second.
Something was wrong.
Or perhaps...
Something had just been found.
Back in Veritida, the celebration continued.
But Damian stood at the balcony now, looking out into the night.
Uninterested in the laughter behind him.
Unaware of the storm quietly rising elsewhere.
And in Auentia
Divura continued to sell, unaware that for the first time
Someone had looked at her…
And almost remembered