She came back at dusk.
Wrapped in a faded cloak.
Hair streaked with grey.
Eyes sharp as ever.
Lady Miranna.
After years in exile, she crossed the city gates like a ghost passing through a dream. No banners. No guards. No schemes.
Just a name no one cheered for anymore.
The guards at the palace didn't recognize her at first. She had changed. Thinner. Quieter. But when she lifted her head and gave her name, they flinched.
They brought her to Queen Selene at once.
The queen was in the garden when Miranna arrived—sitting beneath the tall sycamore with Kael in her arms and Lyra beside her, practicing sword forms.
When she saw her former enemy, Selene did not rise.
She didn't call for guards.
She didn't even blink.
Miranna stood a few paces away and said simply:
"I did everything I could to stop you."
Selene's eyes didn't waver. "Yes. And you failed."
"I tried to save the throne from weakness."
"No," Selene said coldly. "You tried to shape the throne into your image. But this throne… it wasn't built for you."
Miranna exhaled. "Then why do I still dream of it?"
Selene stood now, Kael nestled against her shoulder, calm and quiet.
"Because you thought power meant being loved. I learned something better: power is surviving without it."
Miranna's eyes glistened, not from sadness, but the hollow realization of defeat that never goes away.
"What will you do with me?" she asked.
Selene looked to Lyra, who now stood by her side—taller, sharper, bolder than ever.
"You will leave. You will live. And you will watch the world you tried to destroy grow without you."
Miranna didn't argue.
There was nothing left to say.
She bowed her head—not in respect, but resignation—and walked away.
No soldiers dragged her.
No cheers followed her.
And as she passed through the garden gate, the queen turned her back on her for good.
That night, Selene sat alone in the royal study, writing.
It wasn't a speech or a law.
It was a letter.
To her children.
"They will not always love you," she wrote.
"They will not always believe you belong. But let your legacy be written in the lives you change—not the ones who resist you."
She folded the parchment, sealed it with her crest, and placed it in a drawer labeled "For the Future."