The echoing silence that followed the Eldorian diplomat's departure was more deafening than any scream. Kael, collapsed beside Lyra's casket, could only register the cold, hard reality of her lifeless form, the meticulous care taken to mask the torture only making the truth more abhorrent. His sister, his last piece of Zuna, was gone. And it was his fault. He hadn't been strong enough.
A strangled sob tore from his throat, and he doubled over, shaking uncontrollably. Seraphina was there instantly, her arms wrapping around him, pulling him away from the casket. He clung to her, burying his face in her shoulder, the scent of wildflowers and soft linen a stark contrast to the metallic tang of death that filled his senses. She whispered soothing words he couldn't quite hear, her own tears dampening his hair. Zephyr, her air eaglet, chirped mournfully from her shoulder, its small beak gently nuzzling Kael's cheek.
Arion, for once, was speechless. He watched Kael's raw, unbridled grief, a stark contrast to the controlled fury he usually showed. The sight of Lyra's mangled, re-dressed body had etched itself into his mind, and a cold, unfamiliar rage settled deep within him. His fire lion cub, Blaze, let out a low, sympathetic rumble, rubbing its head against Arion's leg. Arion walked over, placing a heavy, comforting hand on Kael's shoulder, a silent testament to their new, unbreakable bond. He said nothing, but his presence was a fortress.
Queen Elara, though her eyes were filled with sorrow and fury, maintained her regal composure. "Remove the casket," she commanded, her voice like steel. "And see to Prince Kael." Her gaze then hardened, fixed on the retreating form of Lord Varak and the Eldorian guards. No open war, Aerion? We shall see about that. You have woken a sleeping lion.
Later, in Kael's private chambers, the world felt distant, muffled by grief. Seraphina sat beside him, holding his hand, her touch grounding him. Arion stood guard by the door, occasionally pacing, his silent anger a palpable presence. Blaze lay curled at Arion's feet, and Zephyr perched on the windowsill, its usually cheerful chirps now muted.
"I should have been faster," Kael rasped, his voice raw. "I should have protected her. I swore I would." His vision blurred with fresh tears. "She told me to run. To be safe. And I failed. Look what they did to her, Seraphina. What they did to my sister."
Seraphina squeezed his hand, her eyes pleading. "Kael, you didn't fail. You couldn't have known. You saved me. You are here. That is what Lyra would want."
"She knows nothing," Arion muttered, his voice low, his eyes fixed on the distant horizon. "No one could have known Eldoria would sink to such depths. They are cowards, hiding behind treaties while they do the usurper's dirty work. But they won't hide forever."
Kael looked at his new friends, at their unwavering support, and a flicker of something new began to stir within the ashes of his despair: a cold, precise resolve. The tears still flowed, but beneath them, a steel resolve was forming. "King Valerius," he whispered, "and King Aerion. They will pay. They will all pay." He sat up, pushing away the blankets. "I need to train. Harder. I need to master this cursed magic. I need to be strong enough."
Just then, a small, dark shadow flitted in through the open window, a creature Kael had never seen before. It was a wyrmling, no bigger than his forearm, with scales the color of ancient slate and eyes like smoldering embers. It bore faint, feathery wings and a slender, whip-like tail. It landed silently on his bedside table, its gaze curious, then surprisingly gentle. It nudged his hand with its snout, a soft, purring sound emanating from its tiny chest.
Kael blinked, surprised. "What... what is this?"
"A wyrmling," Seraphina breathed, her eyes wide. "They are rare, solitary creatures of the deep mountains. They rarely approach humans. Perhaps... it senses your sorrow."
The small wyrmling nudged his hand again, then curled up beside it, emanating a faint, calming warmth. In the crushing darkness of his grief, this unexpected, innocent presence was a tiny beacon. Kael, still reeling, felt a strange connection. This creature, wild and free, yet choosing to be near him, offered a comfort unlike any other. He gently stroked its scales, a faint sense of peace settling over his ravaged heart. He still had a purpose. He still had a fight. And now, he had something else, something small and fierce and utterly loyal.
Outside the chambers, Queen Elara stood with Sir Gareth and Elder Maeve. "Lord Varak's message was clear," the Queen stated, her voice grim. "Eldoria has chosen its side. We will not engage in open warfare, not yet. It would drain us, and play into Valerius's hand. However," her eyes turned towards Kael's chambers, "we have another way to fight. Prince Kael's cause is now Solara's greatest investment. His training, his magic... they must be honed. He will become the sword that reclaims Zuna, and in doing so, avenge this unspeakable act. We will give him every resource, every lesson. The time for grieving is over. The time for forging a king has begun."
Kael, surrounded by his grieving friends and an unexpected new companion, knew his path was clear. The tears had been shed. Now, only vengeance remained.