The night sky burned.
Emma and Elias stood at the edge of the courtyard, frozen, watching the mansion collapse into a roaring inferno. The flames devoured everything—stone, silk, and memory alike. The air shimmered with heat, and the crackle of burning wood sounded almost like laughter—mocking, cruel.
"This… this can't be happening," Emma whispered, her voice breaking as she stumbled forward a step. Her eyes stung, not only from the smoke but from the flood of tears she couldn't stop. The mansion had been the princess's dream. Emma had been there for every detail, every choice, every moment of joy that had shaped it. She could still remember Lorraine's smile when they'd first hung the portrait this morning, the soft light on her face, her proud laughter echoing through the hall.
And now… that same portrait was getting destroyed.
"Don't cry," Elias murmured beside her. His voice was gentle, almost pleading, though his hand trembled on the hilt of his sword.
