"When the Mother Fell Silent... and the Palace with Her"
I was twelve years old when I saw her lying on the bed, unmoving.
She was my mother, a woman unlike any other. In her presence, rooms felt warmer, winters less harsh, and even my father, Edgar, would soften when she spoke. She didn't fight with a sword, but she had a strange power—she could silence screaming with a single word, extinguish flames with a glance.
But that day...
That day was silent.
I entered the room slowly. No one had told me anything, only faint whispers in the halls, hurried footsteps, and two maids crying in the corner. I knew something unnatural had happened, but I wasn't ready to see her like that.
Lying down. Eyes closed. Her skin pale, as if life itself had paused beside her, then moved on without touching her.
I approached... my steps quiet, my heart pounding like war drums.
"Mother?" I whispered, as if my voice might commit a crime in that silence.
She didn't answer.
