"Your Majesty…!"
Chandler's boots pounded against polished marble as he burst into the throne hall—too late.
The Emperor was already falling.
A silver sword jutted from his chest, blood spreading across his robes as he crumpled forward. His crown rolled down the steps with a hollow clang.
Prince Paul stood frozen, still gripping the hilt. Blood streaked his trembling hands. His wide, stunned eyes locked on the body below him.
"Father..." he choked, voice cracking. "I—I didn't have a choice."
Around him, chaos blazed.
The Empress lay lifeless, her once-glorious gown soaked in red. A deep slash marred her throat, glinting in the firelight.
On the other side, the first princess knelt within a growing inferno. Flames crawled up velvet drapes and golden pillars, casting mad shadows. She sobbed into her hands, her magic spiraling out of control—fire blooming in waves around her.
Chandler stood frozen at the threshold, breath caught in his throat.
No… This can't be real.
Paul turned to him, tears streaming down his face.
"Please, Chandler… help us."
But before Chandler could answer, armored boots thundered behind him.
"Prince Paul murdered the Emperor!" one of the knights cried.
Steel scraped from scabbards. Swords drawn. All eyes turned to the prince—bloodstained, stunned, and silent.
---
Chandler blinked as cold water closed over him, the memory dissolving into dark salt and silence.
Even now—after four months—that day haunted him. The moment everything shattered.
He kicked hard, fighting the current as he surfaced with a gasp.
The sea was wild tonight, but not unforgiving. In the distance, he spotted the faint glow of lanterns from the ship, swaying like a faraway promise.
"Prince… Princess…!" he called, breath ragged as he swam with everything he had.
"Chirp!"
A flutter of wings.
Melic swooped overhead, circling above him like a tiny lighthouse.
---
Meanwhile, back at the cabin…
"Greetings to the First Prince and First Princess of the Empire of Lumiere," Therese said calmly.
"Who are you?!" Prince Paul shouted, trying to rise—only to realize he was chained to the bed. Metal clanked loudly.
"Brother…" a soft voice came from beside him.
Paul's head snapped toward it.
"Lauren!" he gasped. His younger sister was lying next to him, also bound by iron cuffs.
"Are you alright?!"
"I'm fine," Princess Lauren whispered, nodding slightly. Her eyes were alert, but her voice trembled.
"Remove these chains now—or I swear I'll kill you!"
Therese raised a brow and calmly dragged a stool over. She sat down, crossing one leg over the other.
"Really? Is that how you make a deal, Your Highness?" she said dryly. "If I free you, I'm pretty sure you'll try to slit my throat the moment your feet hit the floor. Besides…" She gave them a wolfish smile. "You two are worth half a million Solis combined. That's the kind of bounty people kill for. I could finally retire rich if I turned you in."
Paul's face hardened. "Then take me—but let my sister go. She's still young. She doesn't deserve this."
"No, brother!" Lauren cried. "If you're going, then I'm going too! We stay together!"
Therese's expression faltered—just for a heartbeat.
She looked at them. Really looked.
Siblings bound together in desperation. Fighting to protect one another, even now.
Her smirk softened. A memory surfaced, uninvited.
"Therese, we'll wait for you! Don't forget to bring the cake!"
The words echoed in her mind—faint, from a time long buried.
Her dead younger siblings.
Her eyes grew distant. Then, with a faint smile, she stood.
"I'm kidding," Therese said casually, fishing a small brass key from her pocket. She crouched down and slid it into the lock.
With a soft click, the chains fell away.
"I have no intention of dragging either of you to the court—or keeping you tied up like wild animals," she added, slipping the key back into her coat.
The siblings stared, stunned.
Prince Paul was the first to react. He rose quickly, shielding Lauren as she stood behind him.
"You expect us to believe you just like that?" Paul asked, narrowing his eyes, his stance ready.
Therese chuckled, amused. "Believe me? I don't care if you do."
She tilted her head slightly, voice lowering.
"I just wanted to say…" She gave a ghost of a smile. "I like the way you two protect each other. So—if you want—I'll kill the knight who captured you."
Paul stiffened. "Knight?"
"That's right," she said. "Chandler Everiel."
Her eyes glittered coldly. "If you ask me, I'll make sure he never comes near you again."
"No!" Princess Lauren's eyes widened in horror. "Chandler, he—"
Before she could finish, the door slammed open with a loud crash.
Chandler stormed in, water dripping from his soaked hair and clinging shirt, his sword already raised. Muscles tense, chest rising with ragged breaths, his once gentle blue eyes now burned with contempt.
"Step away from the prince and princess!" he barked.
In a flash, Therese raised her dagger, catching the edge of his blade with a sharp clang. Sparks flew between steel—and between them.
His fury clashed against her amused, unreadable gaze.
She didn't hesitate. That was more dangerous than any sword.
"Hoh. What's this?" she murmured, cocking her head.
"Chandler!" Princess Lauren cried out.
With a swift motion, Therese pivoted, switching their positions. In a dance of blades and balance, she allowed Chandler to push forward—placing himself in front of the siblings, guarding them. Now, his sword pointed directly at her chest.
And she?
She stood calmly before the door, lips quirking, dagger lowered but still ready.
"For someone who claimed to have captured royal fugitives," she said coolly, "they seem to trust you awfully well, Sir Everiel."
"Sir Chandler! He's protecting us!" Princess Lauren said, stepping forward despite her brother's protective arm.
Chandler's grip faltered—but only for a second.
Prince Paul raised his hand. A flicker of flame danced on his palm, casting orange light across his scowling face.
"If anyone here is a threat, it's you."
A tense silence followed.
Therese chuckled softly.
"So this is the truth behind some of your noble lies, Sir Everiel." She slid the dagger back to her waist with an easy motion. "I didn't expect today to be this entertaining."
"Entertainment…" Chandler muttered through gritted teeth, his sword still raised, unwavering.
"There's an extra boat up ahead," Therese said casually, pulling a small compass from her coat pocket. Then, with a soft clink, she placed it—along with a brass key—on the nearby table beside the door. "You know where the kitchen is, Sir Chandler. That key opens the food storage… and there are dry clothes there too."
Prince Paul narrowed his eyes. "What are you trying to say?"
"You're free to leave, take everything you need," she replied without looking back. "All of you. I won't stop you."
She turned, her cloak trailing behind her as she made her way to the door, voice cool and composed.
"Goodnight, everyone."
With a soft click, the door shut behind her—leaving silence in her wake.