ERIS
The gardens had always been mine.
Not for their beauty, though they held it, wild and feral, like fire frozen mid-dance, but for the solitude they promised. No courtiers, no whispers, no faces that demanded masks. Only jasmine tangled with moonlight, the soft hiss of water against stone, and the quiet that belonged to me.
Tonight, even that sanctuary felt tainted.
I perched on the fountain's marble bench, legs crossed, one hand brushing the cool stone, the other clutching a folded parchment.
While the whole kingdom celebrated, I only cared about one thing.
The map. Again. I could recite every route, every village, every damned safe house between here and freedom, yet still, I traced the ink as if it might rearrange itself into something intelligible.
Calemond. Velstra. Rutherd.
Three names. Three escapes. Three lives I could slip into as easily as a snake sheds skin.
