The sky outside the window was pale, washed in the hesitant blush of dawn. The city was waking, but the chamber they occupied felt like a different world entirely — heavy with the remnants of magic and words unsaid.
Illyria sat on the edge of the bed, her hair falling in loose strands that caught the soft light. Her fingers idly toyed with the rim of a half-empty wine glass, tracing its curve as though it might offer answers. Across from her, leaning against the carved window frame, Seraphine watched in silence, her presence like a storm cloud holding back rain.
"You've been avoiding telling me something," Illyria finally said, her voice low but steady.
Seraphine's gaze flicked away, out toward the faint outline of the distant spires. "Not avoiding," she replied, her tone deceptively mild. "Just… delaying. There's a difference."
Illyria's lips curved into a bitter half-smile. "Delaying is what people do when they don't want the truth to arrive."
For a heartbeat, Seraphine said nothing. Then, with a quiet sigh, she pushed away from the window and crossed the room, the faint scent of her magic — sharp, metallic, laced with the sweetness of something dangerous — following her. She sat opposite Illyria, close enough that their knees brushed.
"I have to leave," Seraphine said at last.
Illyria's fingers stilled on the wine glass. "For how long?"
The pause before the answer was too long. "I don't know."
The room felt smaller suddenly, as though the walls had drawn closer. Illyria kept her voice even. "And why?"
Seraphine's eyes, dark as polished onyx, met hers without flinching. "Because Valerina needs me."
The name struck like a pebble into still water, sending ripples through the air between them. Illyria had heard it before, whispered in fragments, spoken with that same quiet gravity. But never explained.
"Valerina," Illyria repeated slowly. "Your sister."
Seraphine nodded. "My elder by two centuries, though you wouldn't think so to see her now. She… she's not well. Hasn't been for a long time. But now…" She hesitated, her jaw tightening as though the words were difficult to force out. "…Now she's unraveling. It's that her own power which backfired."
Illyria studied her, the wine glass forgotten in her hand. "Unraveling how?"
Seraphine's gaze drifted briefly toward the floor. "Her mind is a labyrinth of fractures. Some days she remembers who she is. Others, she doesn't remember anything at all — not her name, not our realm, not me. And there are things in our world, Illyria, that circle weakness like vultures."
"Valerina, my sister, is the protector of our realm. She is the greatest healer and also the power to listen to nature. And she called me because there has been a destructive force that threatens the balance of our realm."
The words carried weight — the kind that came from experience rather than theory. Illyria felt an uncomfortable pang in her chest, but she pushed it down. "So you'll go to her. To protect her."
"To protect her… and to keep her from destroying herself, and also as a Queen, my duty is to protect everyone of our realm," Seraphine said softly. "Valerina is not harmless when she loses herself. Her magic is… older than mine. Wilder. When she forgets who she is, she becomes something else. Something that shouldn't exist."
Illyria's fingers tightened around the glass, but she set it down before it shattered. "And you're telling me this now? After everything?"
"I wanted to tell you sooner," Seraphine said, and though the words sounded rehearsed, her eyes betrayed a flicker of sincerity. "But I also wanted… one more night without that shadow between us."
Illyria let out a dry laugh, though it lacked real humor. "One more night before the goodbye."
Seraphine leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to that low, almost dangerous softness she used when she wanted her words to stick. "This isn't goodbye."
Illyria arched a brow. "If you leave without knowing when you'll come back, Seraphine, it feels exactly like goodbye."
The tension in the air thickened, not from anger but from something heavier, older — the awareness of a bond being tested by distance and time.
Seraphine reached out, her fingers brushing against Illyria's hand. "Valerina raised me when no one else would. She took the punishments meant for me. She carved her own life into pieces so I could live mine. I can't… I won't abandon her now, even if it means leaving you."
Illyria swallowed hard. "And what if she doesn't want to be saved?"
Seraphine's lips curved into a sad, almost knowing smile. "Then I'll save her anyway. Because that's what you do when it's family."
The words hung there, pressing into Illyria's ribs. She knew the truth in them — had lived it, in her own way — but it didn't dull the sting.
She rose from the bed and crossed to the window, the light now stronger, gilding the edges of the distant city. Her reflection stared back at her in the glass, pale and thoughtful, with Seraphine's shadow behind her. "And me?" she asked quietly. "What am I to you, Seraphine? Another duty? Another burden you'll carry until you decide I'm too heavy?"
The silence that followed was not empty; it was full of words that could wound if spoken aloud. Finally, Seraphine stood and moved to stand beside her, their reflections side by side in the window.
"You," Seraphine said, her voice firm despite the softness of the words, "are the one thing I've chosen without regret. And I will come back for you. Even if I have to tear the realms apart to do it."
It was an oath — one that sounded both comforting and dangerous, depending on how it was kept.
Illyria turned her head, studying her profile. "You've always been good at making promises sound like threats."
Seraphine's lips curved faintly. "And you've always been good at pretending you don't like it."
For a moment, they simply stood there, the morning light pouring around them, as though trying to frame them in gold before the parting. But the weight of the conversation lingered — the knowledge that this might be the last time for a long while they stood like this.
Illyria finally broke the stillness. "Then go," she said, the words tasting like steel on her tongue. "Find your sister. Save her. Save your Beast Realm. But don't expect me to wait here, doing nothing. My life doesn't stop because you leave."
Seraphine's gaze sharpened, but she only nodded. "I wouldn't want it to."
And though neither of them said it aloud, both understood: the distance ahead would test not just their bond, but the versions of themselves they would become without each other.
Seraphine's gaze softened, the usual gleam of mischief dimming into something raw and unguarded. From within the folds of her sleeve, she drew out a small, luminous jewel—its surface a shifting storm of crimson and gold, pulsing faintly as though it carried a heartbeat of its own.
"This," she said, her voice low, almost reluctant, "is half of my heart's mana. As long as it beats, I will always find my way back to you." She pressed it into Illyria's palm, curling her fingers tightly around it, her touch lingering as though imprinting the weight of her presence.
"Guard it well, little spirit. It's the only piece of me the world will never touch."
Before turning away and leaving, Seraphine spoke in a soft voice, "My dear Queen Illyria, next time we meet each other, can you call me 'sister'? Promise me."
Then, without waiting for a reply, she stepped back, her figure already fading into the shimmer of vanishing magic, leaving behind the jewel's warmth—and the hollow ache of her absence.
Illyria turned the jewel over in her palm, the light catching in its depths like molten sunlight trapped beneath a layer of rose-red glass. Tiny threads of gold curled within it, twisting and shifting as if alive, each pulse in sync with a heartbeat not her own. When she brought it closer, a faint warmth bled into her skin—steady, protective, and unbearably intimate, as though Seraphine's very soul was breathing against her fingers.
She murmured in her own world, "Sister....I miss you."