The night wind was cold, whispering through the open plains as the royal carriages rolled on. The sky above shimmered faintly purple, the moon rising like a silent eye over the horizon. Inside the first carriage, Josephine's head rested quietly on Xavi's lap. Her skin was cold, her breath shallow, but her face looked peaceful in sleep. Xavi's hand brushed through her cherry-red hair slowly, every touch filled with a desperate tenderness.
Kara flew above them, her golden eyes glowing against the night sky, leading the convoy through three vast kingdoms. They passed the borders of Eldra, through the fog fields of Nareen, and crossed the icy bridges of Velshire. The guards rode close beside the carriages, torches flickering like fireflies in the darkness.
By the time the moon reached its peak, nightfall had fully claimed the world. Kara landed gracefully and signaled for the group to stop. They found a large open ground near a silver stream, surrounded by whispering trees, the grass glowing faintly under the moonlight.
"Here," Kara said softly. "We'll rest until dawn."
At once, the soldiers began to set up tents—large, silk-lined shelters that shimmered faintly with enchantment. Sienna and Xantha directed the healers, while the cooks prepared a small fire pit for the royal family's meal.
Josephine sat outside on the ground, her eyes blank but strangely focused. In her hand was a small stick, and she began to draw lines slowly into the dirt. The lines curved, swirled, then shaped into a face—soft, gentle, smiling. The face of Ceillie.
Kara saw it first. She stopped midair, her wings folding as her eyes softened. "Ceillie…" she whispered, recognizing the face of their fallen Nana.
Xavi approached quietly, crouching beside his wife. "Jojo?" he said softly.
Josephine giggled silently, the soundless laughter trembling through her shoulders. She was a mute child again—consumed by madness, trapped in the shell of her own mind. Her hands smeared the drawing, turning it to dust.
Xavi sighed and gently lifted her into his arms. She began to hit his chest, weak but frantic, her fists trembling. "Shh…" he whispered, holding her tighter. "It's alright, my love. You're safe."
He carried her into their tent. Kara stood outside and raised both hands, murmuring an ancient incantation. A golden shield burst from her palms, spreading outward in a vast dome that wrapped around the entire campsite like a glowing veil. The air shimmered once before settling—the spell complete.
"No danger will breach this ground tonight," Kara said.
Inside the tent, the air smelled faintly of lavender. Xavi laid Josephine down gently on their bedrolls. Adris, half-awake, waddled in quietly, holding his small blanket. When Josephine saw him, her eyes widened. Her trembling stopped. For a brief moment, the madness faded.
"Ma… ma…" Adris whispered, tears sliding down his face.
Josephine reached for him, her fingers shaking. Xavi moved quickly to pull the boy back, but Adris slipped free, stumbling into her arms.
She hugged him tightly—so tightly it hurt. Tears fell down her cheeks as she buried her face into his shoulder. Xavi's heart shattered at the sight.
He knelt beside them, brushing Josephine's hair back. "It's okay," he whispered, voice breaking. He kissed her forehead softly and pulled a blanket over both of them.
That night, he changed her into clean clothes—a soft white gown—and covered her gently. She lay beside Adris, their fingers intertwined.
Outside, life moved quietly in the camp.
In the third tent, Oliver had his arms wrapped around Kara. The glow of the campfire flickered against their tent walls. "Shhh," Oliver whispered, kissing her neck. "Don't let anyone hear you, love."
Kara smiled faintly against his lips. "Then make me quiet, my baby."
Oliver smirked, pulling her closer as their laughter faded into the night, lost behind enchanted fabric.
In another tent, Xoni slept soundly with her arms wrapped around Anesthesia, both of them tangled together, breathing softly in unison. Across the camp, Sienna and Xantha were asleep side by side, books scattered between them, their faces illuminated by the last flickers of candlelight.
Haillie, meanwhile, had just stepped out from her bath. Her damp hair fell down her back as she walked back to her tent, where Anya—the sea elf maid—waited quietly, holding a towel.
"Here, my lady," Anya said gently, handing it to her.
Haillie took it, drying her skin, then turned to her with a sly grin. "You're sleeping here tonight. Not with the other maids and guards."
Anya blinked, startled. "Uh… no, I'm good. I'll take my leave."
Haillie chuckled lowly. She raised her fingers and snapped. Instantly, the air shimmered—the tent sealed with a soundproof barrier.
Anya's eyes widened. "What did you do!?"
Haillie smiled darkly. "You can scream, but nobody will hear you."
Anya stepped back. "The fuck!? Are you crazy? I'm not a sex toy!"
Haillie tilted her head. "I know. But you're my wife now," she said simply, crawling onto the bed and yawning. "So go to sleep."
Anya stood frozen, confused and speechless, before finally sitting on the edge of the bed. Haillie's breathing slowed—she was already asleep.
Anya stared at her in disbelief for a long moment… then quietly lay down beside her. The silence in the tent was heavy and strange. Eventually, even Anya's eyes closed.
By sunrise, the horizon blazed gold and rose. The convoy stirred. Horses neighed, guards packed supplies, and the scent of morning fires filled the air.
But then—a rumble of wheels from behind.
A large carriage approached fast, dust swirling in its wake. The royal crest of Hendrick's house gleamed on the side. When it stopped, the door burst open—Hendrick, Tess, Callum, Piere, Raden, Noah, and Sophia stepped out, eyes weary but determined.
Kara lowered the shield, allowing them entry. "You made it," she said, relieved.
Tess ran ahead, her heart pounding. The moment she saw the cage near the center of the camp—her breath caught. "Jojo?" she whispered, rushing forward.
Inside the cage, Josephine was awake—her eyes bloodshot, her hair wild. She was banging on the iron bars, her hands bruised.
"Jojo! Jojo!" Tess cried, kneeling by the bars. She reached through, trying to hold her hand—
But Josephine grabbed her fingers and bit down hard.
"AHHH!" Tess screamed, pulling back as blood ran down her hand.
"JOSEPHINE!" Noah shouted, as he grab Tess her, dragging her backward.
Josephine started to laugh—silent, broken laughter—and then she cried, her tears mixing with the blood on her hands. Her body shook violently.
Sophia's face paled as she clutched Hendrick's arm. "She's…"
Hendrick swallowed, eyes glistening as he looked at his last-born daughter—his Queen.
Piere stood behind them, tears slipping quietly down his face. Raden, his husband, pulled him close, whispering something soft as he wiped his tears away.
Josephine pressed her forehead to the bars, whispering sounds no one could understand. She screamed—but no sound came out.
The healers looked away. Xavi stood at a distance, jaw clenched, pain etched into every line of his face.
"Pack up," Kara ordered quietly. "We move now."
One by one, the tents came down. The carriages loaded, the guards mounted their horses. The morning sun shimmered against the snow-capped peaks in the distance—Mount Serathiel, the gateway to Zephyria.
As the convoy began to move again, Josephine's cage rattled faintly behind them. She sat inside, eyes vacant, watching the mountains ahead as her chains jingled softly with each turn of the wheel.
The Queen of Silence was still mad, still broken, but somewhere deep inside her eyes… the faintest flicker of the old Josephine glimmered beneath the madness.
And the journey to Zephyria—the place of her cure, or her end—had begun.