Three months had passed since the Jewel of Nexus, Princess Zuleika, departed from the Kingdom of Feltogora.
A week after her return to Nexus, the news shook the entire imperial palace: King Stewart Cepheus Hekiz Vasiliou himself had crossed into Feltogora, accompanied by only one man—his most trusted, the Knight Grand Cross, Wesley Chad Baton.
When Stewart arrived, his presence alone was thunderous. His steps carried the weight of a king not coming as a guest, but as a father. His face was set in stone, his voice sharp and unyielding. Witnesses whispered afterward that his tone with the Emperor had been as cold as the northern seas, as if war were only a breath away.
The King of Nexus did not linger. He did not exchange courtesies, nor did he dine within the empire's gilded halls. He came, he spoke, and he left before the sun set. Yet rumors spread like wildfire: that within the throne chamber itself, Stewart Vasiliou had unsheathed his sword—pointing it directly at the Emperor of Feltogora.
The aftermath was swift. The Emperor, livid and humiliated, summoned his eldest son. Before the court's very eyes, he struck Crown Prince Matthew across the face, condemning him for the disgrace and fracture he had caused.
From that day onward, the Nexus Kingdom severed every tie. Every letter of alliance sent from Feltogora was left unanswered. Every envoy was turned away. The once delicate thread of diplomacy between the two powers was cut clean, never again to be knotted.
Meanwhile, within the Empire, shadows grew restless. Whispers of rebellion gained strength, moving like smoke through the cracks of the imperial city. And in the palace, Princess Aquila's silver gaze no longer softened when it fell on her elder brother. She had spoken to Crown Prince Matthew only once since that day—only to deliver a slap across his face so sharp it echoed in the corridors.
After that, she treated him as though he were nothing more than a ghost of shame haunting their family.
The Emperor's words still echoed inside her skull as Aquila walked the silent halls, her steps slow, heavy, mechanical.
"You will marry the son of Emperyus Kingdom."
No discussion. No choice. No hesitation in his tone. Just another command she was expected to follow.
Her hands trembled slightly at her sides, but her face remained a mask—cold, impassive, unyielding. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her break.
By the time she reached the palace gardens, the tightness in her chest was unbearable. The moment she stepped into the quiet haven of green and gold, she let out a shaky exhale, one she had been holding far too long.
Her silver eyes drifted, catching sight of something that stopped her in her tracks.
The sunflower. The one she and Zuleika had planted months ago.
Her knees bent as she crouched before it, her hand brushing against its tall stem. Her wrist tilted, and the faint jingle of beads met her ears. She stilled. Slowly, her gaze fell on the bracelet that Zuleika had clasped there—a gift, simple and small, but heavy with meaning.
Her brows furrowed, lips pressing together as her eyes softened.
For the first time in weeks, her expression cracked.
She let her thumb brush against the bracelet. "It survived," she whispered, voice almost breaking, "when everything else fell apart."
Her laugh was bitter, quiet, almost a sob in disguise.
"Now I'm to be married to a man I barely know. A stranger. Another duty, another chain."
Her eyes closed, her head bowing as if the weight of her crown had finally become too heavy.
Not a day had passed since Zuleika's departure when Aquila did not think of her. Crimson eyes haunted her thoughts, her silence echoed louder than words. But what could she do? There was no reaching out. No letter, no message. Not after what had happened. Not when the very blood in Aquila's veins—the blood of Revazkerio—was the reason Zuleika's radiance had been extinguished in the Empire.
Her laugh broke fully this time, sharp and self-mocking. "I guess," she murmured, eyes glistening as she stared at the sunflower, "I finally understand why you loathed us so much."
Her hand tightened on the bracelet.
And yet, even in her bitterness, she could not bring herself to take it off.
The night came, but Aquila couldn't fall asleep. The maids had already left her chamber, and her eyes lingered on the night sky. Then her gaze shifted downward, catching sight of the thick bushes swaying faintly under the moonlight. A memory stirred—how Zuleika once slipped through those very shadows, sneaking out each night to head toward the commoner district.
The corner of Aquila's lips curved, though she quickly bit her lower lip to stifle the smile. A silly thought, but one she couldn't resist.
Without hesitation, she rose and slipped out of her silk sleeping gown, replacing it with a trouser and a fitted longsleeve tucked neatly inside, then draped a cloak over her shoulders. She reached for a small backpack, carefully tucking in some necessities. Her eyes fell to the carved wooden fish resting on the table—the gift she never had the chance to give to Zuleika. Her chest tightened as she picked it up, and without a second thought, placed it inside the bag.
When she was ready, Aquila unlatched her window. The cold air rushed in, brushing against her face. She peered down at the distance.
"I wonder if she did this?" she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. Then, gathering her courage, she leapt.
A sharp branch grazed her arm during the fall. Her brows twitched at the sting, but with a faint pulse of her power, the wound healed almost instantly. She let out a quiet sigh and pressed forward, her steps swift as she made her way through the silent corridors of the garden.
At this hour, the guards were fewer—most caught in the brief transition of patrol. Aquila moved like a shadow, slipping through unnoticed until she reached the garden's heart. She slowed, her eyes landing on the familiar blooms swaying under the moonlight. The sight pulled her back—to the very first time she met Zuleika here, close enough to hear her laugh, close enough to see her eyes gleam.
"Pfft." A quiet laugh escaped her lips before she could stop it. "Is this how she felt that time?" she whispered softly, as though Zuleika herself might answer.
But silence answered her instead.
With a last glance behind, Aquila gathered her cloak tightly and darted toward the back exit. She slipped past the final archway, her figure vanishing into the cool embrace of the night. The Imperial Palace lay behind her. Before her stretched the dark edge of the forest.
"Hm, where should I go…" she murmured, pausing for the first time. She lifted her hand and flicked her finger. From her palm, a faint shimmer blossomed into a glowing butterfly. Its delicate wings caught the moonlight as it hovered in front of her.
"Well," Aquila whispered, her voice gentler now, "just lead me somewhere I could feel safe."
The butterfly flickered once, then took off into the trees. Aquila followed closely, her eyes flicking around, drinking in the stillness of the night forest. Leaves whispered overhead. Fireflies dotted the darkness. For the first time in months, her steps felt lighter.
For days, Aquila wandered. She walked until her legs grew heavy, rested when her body could no longer carry her, and ate sparingly from the rations she carried. The forest was endless, stretching into places unknown, but she trusted the faint butterfly that flitted ahead of her. Wherever it led, she followed—it felt safer than stopping, safer than looking back.
At last, she reached a lake. Its surface shimmered with the fading daylight, rippling with the wind. Aquila sat on a flat stone at the edge, stretching her arms as her cloak shifted with the breeze.
"Hm… almost winter," she murmured, tilting her face up to the sky. The cold nipped at her skin, sharper with each day that passed. She hugged her arms lightly, breathing in the crisp air before forcing herself to stand again.
But as her steps carried her deeper into the wild, danger found her.
A low growl rumbled through the trees. Aquila froze. From the thicket ahead, a lion emerged—not an ordinary beast, but something strange in its stance, its eyes gleaming with a feral light. Her instincts flared; she raised her hand, ready to strike with her power—
"Stop. That creature is mine."
The voice was cold, detached.
Aquila turned, her silver eyes narrowing just as a shadow dropped from the canopy. In a blur of movement, the figure landed gracefully, blade flashing once—clean, precise. The lion collapsed in an instant, lifeless, its blood staining the earth.
The stranger's weapon caught Aquila's attention. The sword was unlike any she had seen—thin, light, built for speed rather than brute force. She traced the figure's outline as the moonlight unveiled her features: long, straight light-brown hair falling like a hime cut, blue eyes glimmering bright yet empty, and a frame slender but steady. She wore light armor over a skirt, practicality mixed with grace.
Aquila pressed her lips into a thin line. The girl looked no older than her, and yet… there was something dangerous about her.
The mysterious warrior's gaze fell back to the lion. "Hm. I thought wrong. This isn't the one I wanted." Her voice was flat, expression unreadable, eyes drifting lazily.
Aquila stepped cautiously forward. "Who are you?"
The girl turned, locking eyes with her. "Stel." The name left her lips without effort, spoken in the same dull, unbothered tone.
"I see… then do you perhaps know where we a—"
Aquila's words cut short. Pain seared the back of her head, her vision spun, and everything blurred. The last thing she saw was Stel shifting into a fighting stance before darkness swallowed her.
"…Are you dumb?" Stel's voice carried low and sharp, directed at someone behind Aquila.
Another figure appeared, her cloak sliding lazily from her head. "Ehhh? She wasn't an enemy?" Her voice was high-pitched, oddly playful.
The moonlight revealed pale white hair tumbling over her shoulders. In her grip, a staff glimmered faintly with residual magic. She peered nervously at Aquila's collapsed body.
"She wasn't, Akira," Stel muttered, exhaling as though bored of the whole ordeal. She crouched by Aquila, eyes narrowing in mild irritation.
Akira winced. "Ohhh, I'm sorrryyy!" She waved her free hand frantically, her expression panicked, as though that would undo the damage.
Stel gave her a flat glance, then looked back at Aquila. "…My Kingdom is near. We'll take her there."
Her tone carried no urgency, only that same lazy resolve, yet her gaze lingered a moment longer on Aquila's unconscious face before flicking away.