The candlelight flickered across the study walls, dancing shadows over shelves of maps and old tomes. King Eldric sat heavy in his chair, shoulders sagging as though the years themselves pressed down upon him. Before him, upon the polished desk, rested a small wooden frame.
It was no larger than his palm. The image within was fading, worn by touch, but still he could see their faces: a queen in her youth, his friend the Guardian knight, and two little girls—one curious, one playful—leaning into their parents' arms.
The frame in his hand felt heavier than any sword he had ever lifted. His thumb brushed the glass slowly, as if the smiling faces within might stir and speak to him again.
Edric's chest ached.
The Queen entered quietly, her gown whispering against the floor. She stood beside him without speaking, watching the flicker of pain on his face as his gaze stayed rooted in the portrait.
"She would be her age by now," Eldric whispered, voice raw, breaking the silence. "Our Elisa. Just about the age of that girl in the court today."
His hand trembled, clutching the frame. " I could do nothing… nothing to protect her."
The Queen placed her hand gently upon his shoulder. "You carry that weight alone too often, my love. What happened then was beyond any one man's strength."
But Eldric shook his head, bitter regret curdling in his throat. "No. I was her father. Her king. I promised Eldis safety, and I promised my daughters safety. And in one day, I lost both...." His voice dropped to a whisper. "And it was my choice that sent them to their deaths."
The King closed his eyes, and the present blurred. The silence of his study was replaced with the thunder of memory.
They had been four once: the King, the Queen, the Guardian Knight Atsuki, and the Minister—clever, silver-tongued, ever at his side. Together, they had seemed unbreakable, a circle bound by trust.
Eldis had thrived, but prosperity never goes unchallenged. Envy had festered beyond their borders, and war arrived like a tide of blood. Months of endless battles drained the kingdom dry.
Eldric could almost smell the iron tang of blood, the smoke that stained the sky above Eldis, the cries of men too tired to even lift their swords. He had seen wars before—skirmishes, uprisings, border clashes—but nothing like this. This was envy turned to fire, swallowing everything.
Enemies gathered at their borders. Eldis moved first, pressing against their armies. A long, grinding war stretched into months, and Eldric—then younger, burning with duty—fought day after day beside his knights.
And yet, in the middle of it, there had been one man always at his side.
Atsuki.
His Guardian Knight— His brother in all but blood. The man who had pulled him out of ambushes, laughed with him over campfires, argued with him in council, and stood beside him like an unshakable shadow. He had given Eldric more than loyalty—he had given him brotherhood. He traveled back and forth between Eldis and his homeland, Icelis, trying to shield both.
But soon the war spilled into Icelis too. Eldis' plight became Icelis' burden. Atsuki could no longer protect two kingdoms at once. He was just one person. The enemy pressed on both borders, the teleportation circles were jammed by outer interference, the city gates breached. The enemy's reach was everywhere. And he was stuck here in Eldis with his kingdom left without a king. Eldric had seen the way Atsuki's gaze sometimes turned homeward, silent prayers for his family carried in his eyes.
The day of their parting was carved into Eldric's soul.
The council chamber stank of smoke, horns echoing in the distance. Dust clung to their skin, blood streaked their armor. Yet through the haze, one sound always reached him—the familiar voice that steadied him even at the brink of collapse.
"You fight like a bear with a limp," Atsuki called, swinging his sword with practiced ease as he cut down another foe. His grin broke through the dirt on his face, as unshakable as ever. "Another step slower and I'd have to drag your corpse back to the Queen. Imagine how cross she'd be with me."
Eldric let out a ragged laugh, chest heaving as he planted his blade into an enemy's chest. "Cross with you? She'd be too busy weeping over me to spare you a word."
"Oh, please," Atsuki scoffed, shoving his shoulder against the King's to cover his blind spot. "She'd throw me from the walls for failing her husband. And frankly, I'd deserve it."
The King shoved him back lightly, almost fondly. "You think too little of me. Surely you know I've kept us alive this long only to keep you from dying of your own reckless pride."
"Ah," Atsuki chuckled, rolling his shoulders as though the weight of war were a mere cloak. "And here I thought I was the one keeping you from embarrassing yourself in front of your men."
Despite the blood, the exhaustion, the endless weeks of fighting, that rumble of laughter had kept Eldric sane. That was Atsuki's gift—always finding a way to slice through the despair, to make the world feel lighter even when it burned around them. He was more than his sword-arm. He was his anchor. His friend. His brother.
It was then Eldirc devised the plan, knowing if this continued they would be cornered "The enemies have breached the gates," he said, his voice steady though his hands trembled at his sides. "We cannot hold them much longer. Our only hope is to split up."
His plan was simple, desperate: he and the Queen and jane would act as decoys while Atsuki and the Minister carried Elisa through a hidden path to safety. Both groups would reunite beyond the city's borders.
The King remembered that day so vividly that he could see him standing in the ruined hall as they argued over the plan.
"You cannot expect me to leave you with only the Queen and Jane. This is madness, Eldric." Atsuki said, his hand gripping the hilt of his blade as if it were the only anchor keeping him steady. "You're the King of Eldis. Without you, the kingdom falls. I should be by your side."
"And without Elisa," the King had countered, his voice raw with exhaustion, "everything ends. She carries the fairy's blessing. She can revive it all back. You know what that means. You've always known." Eldric gripped his arm tighter, his eyes heavy with apology "I know I've bound you here, when your own kingdom bleeds without its king. You've given me your strength, your life, again and again. And now—now I ask the worst of you. Protect my child. "
Atsuki's jaw tightened. Silence stretched between them., they stared at each other, two men bound by loyalty but divided by necessity.
Then Eldric softened, voice breaking. "You've always been more than a knight to me, Atsuki. More than a guard. You're my friend. My brother. That's why I trust you with what I cannot do. Keep Elisa safe. Bring her back to me. That's all I ask."
Atsuki's throat worked, torn between duty and loyalty. "You make it sound like you're sending me away forever."
The King forced a smile. "Only until we meet again at the safe zone. Then you can scold me all you want."
Then, with a long exhale, he wanted to argue over this plan, but then Atsuki pressed his fist against his chest in salute. "I will do it. For you. For her. For Eldis."
Atsuki's other hand had clenched into a fist, his voice rough. "And don't worry yourself with my people… they will endure. They always have. But I will come back. I will fight at your side, Eldric. And then I will protect my family. All of them." His gaze had softened, just for a breath, as Elisa tugged his sleeve and smiled up at him.
For a moment, despite the inferno around them, Atsuki's lips quirked into a grin. He clapped the King's shoulder. "You never make things easy."
The King chuckled faintly, though it trembled. "Nor do you."
They clasped forearms, the bond of warriors, of men who had carved kingdoms side by side.
The minister placed a hand over his heart, bowing low. "I will stand with you as always, Your Majesty. We will deliver the fairy child safely back to you. Trust us."
And Eldric had believed him.
The King swallowed hard at the memory, his chest aching. That had been the last moment of peace between them.
He still remembered the farewell. Elisa's small hands had clung to his cloak, her green eyes wide and afraid.
"Papa, don't go," she had begged, her voice trembling.
He had knelt, heart tearing apart. "I must, my little star. But you'll be with Atsuki, and no one in this world is stronger than him. You'll be safe." He had kissed her hair, breathed her in, and then forced himself to let let her go into Atsuki's arms. The Queen kissed Elisa's forehead tears flowing as the child clung to her skirts, uncomprehending.
That farewell burned like an open wound even now..
They parted.
The march that followed was brutal. His group was ambushed four times before they reached the rendezvous, each attack leaving them bloodied but alive. He remembered the Queen's steady hands, Jane's small voice whispering prayers, crying silently against her mother's side, too brave for her years., and his own sword arm growing heavy with every swing. But they had made it.
When at last they reached the safe zone, Blood was spilled, wounds torn into their flesh, but they survived. The King collapsed against a wall, lungs burning, vision spotted. He scanned the darkness, waiting—waiting for Atsuki's group and Elisa.
But they never came....
They waited. Hours turned into a night. The night into days. Four days of endless waiting, scouring the paths, sending scouts. Four days of bleeding Eldis, struggling to hold the enemy back. The war pressed on, but his eyes searched the horizon, always hoping, waiting for Elisa's small figure, Atsuki's unshakable form, the Minister's quick stride.
And then—sudden retreat. The enemy fell back as if sated, their ferocity dulled. Eldis had been spared a final crushing blow, but it was strange—unnatural. Victory had not been theirs.
Then came the message.
The voice slithered through the magic communication crystal, silk and venom entwined.
The Minister.
"My king," it purred, dripping with amusement, "thank you for gifting me the fairy holder so easily. With her, I no longer need your crown."
Edric's blood froze. His voice cracked with fury. "What have you done?!"
"I will let your kingdom crawl on—if only to amuse me further. But the child is mine now. And so is her powers."
Then laughter. Low, entertained, venomous.
The crystal shattered in Eldric's grip. His roar had shaken the tent.
He raced with his soldiers back toward the starting point then the path the other group took, he rode until his horse collapsed.
When Eldric reached the path himself, he found only ruins and then far.
Atsuki's body lay in the mud, broken, limp, cold. His one arm severed missing, one eye pierced, his chest torn where his heart had been. His sword, the blade that had guarded Eldis for decades, was shattered at his side. He had fought to his last breath, and he had fallen.
The King fell to his knees. "Brother… forgive me…" His hands trembled as he pulled Atsuki's body close. The world blurred, his cries ripping from his throat.
After that day, Eldis rebuilt. But never fully. They lost their guardian and with it Icelis too. All there was ruins. They lost their miracle. They lost his daughter.
Now, in the present, the frame blurred in his grip. Tears pricked at his eyes, and he pressed the frame to his brow as though to beg forgiveness from the ghosts within.
"I failed you," he whispered. "I failed you all."
The Queen's arms came around his shoulders, steady, soft. "You did not fail them. You fought with everything you had. You are still fighting, Eldric."
The Queen squeezed his hand. "You cannot carry this forever."
"But I do," he whispered. "Every day. I see her face, hear her laugh, and I know she's gone because I trusted the wrong man. Because I failed my friend. My daughter. And now—" His breath hitched. "Now this vault theft, this girl accused… if it is true—if the relic has been touched—we may be standing on the brink of another war. I cannot let it happen again."
The Queen pressed her forehead to his temple, silent tears slipping down her cheeks. Together, they stood in their shared grief, then she said assuring him "Then we will not let it."
But even her certainty could not strip the dread from his heart. The shadow of betrayal still lingered, and the thought of history repeating sent a cold shiver through him.
Elsewhere in the city, another heart broke—this one young, desperate, and still learning the shape of loss.
Lily's world had shattered in the courtroom.
She could still see Suzan's chained wrists, the forced grin, the flicker of betrayal in her eyes when Lily's words faltered.
"I don't know."
Her own words haunted her now, echoing in her skull louder than the judge's gavel, louder than the whispers of the crowd.
She pressed her palms to her eyes until stars danced in the dark. Her throat burned. No amount of sobbing seemed enough to empty her chest of the guilt clawing at it.
If only she had said no. If only she had shouted, fought, defended Suzan with every last breath. Suzan would be free now — laughing, running through the markets, dragging Lily into another mess. Instead, her friend was behind iron bars, alone, and Lily had been the one to push her there with her hesitation.
If only…
She whispered it over and over like a prayer, clutching the edge of her sleeve until her nails tore the fabric.
That night, she drifted toward the barracks, cloak drawn tight, heart pounding. She had never dared approach the soldiers before, but desperation made her bold. The guards posted at the doors shifted as she approached, their faces wary but not unkind.
"Please," she begged, voice cracking. "Just let me see her. Just once. She's so young—she must be terrified."
The guards shook their heads, pity softening their faces but rules hardening their hands. She pressed her palms together, sank to her knees in the dirt. "I'll do anything. Please, I'll take her punishment, I'll—I'll give up anything. Please. Let me talk to her."
Still, they would not move.
Her tears fell freely then, spilling down her cheeks as she whispered Suzan's name into the cold air.
Still, she tried again. The next day, she slipped into the barracks' halls, searching for Captain Arven. She had seen it—the faint sympathy in his gaze when Suzan had stood before the court. Perhaps he could be moved.
When at last she found him, her courage broke into fragments.
"Captain… please. She didn't do it. I know she didn't. You must help her."
Arven's eyes softened, but his voice was steady. "Child. The decision belongs to the court. Not to me."
Her hands trembled as she clutched at his sleeve. "Then… then speak for her. Anything. Please…please help her…"
He did not answer right away, and that silence hurt worse than rejection. Finally, he laid a heavy hand on her shoulder, as though anchoring her to reality. "Go home, Lily."
The words crushed her. She stumbled away, choking on sobs.
That night, she fell to her knees in prayer. The wooden floor cut into her skin, her forehead pressed hard against clasped hands. Her sobs spilled into the silence until her voice was hoarse.
If I could take it back. If I could turn back time.
She remembered Suzan's grin, her teasing remarks, her stubborn strength, even when her hands shook. How she would hide her sadness and pain behind mischief so Lily would not worry. Perhaps in the vault, when something had hurt her, maybe she was crying alone—and Lily hadn't even noticed. She had been blind, careless.
The thought tore her open.
If only.....
I had defended her better. If only I hadn't doubted. If only I could erase this day. If only I asked her earlier so this doubt wouldn't have settled
The words became her heartbeat, her breath, her torment.
But unknown to her, Suzan's life had already veered far beyond prayers or tears. Fate had shifted the moment that cursed voice started again inside her — and no prayer could rewind the hours. No plea could undo what fate had already woven.
Still she wept, still she whispered 'if only' into the night, as though the words themselves might tear open the world and carry her back to the moment where everything went wrong.
But the world did not turn back.
And in the cell across the city, Suzan lay alone, her breaths shallow, her fate twisting tighter around her with every passing hour