Night fell like spilled ink upon Elarion. The palace glowed faintly in its centre, its towers breathing with silver light as if alive - a cathedral of glass and moonstone beating with the heart of The Eternal Queen.
But deep within its gardens, far from the eyes of gods and courtiers, a softer world lingered. The Garden of Starlight was the only place Seraphyne had ever allowed to remain untouched by her divine order. No guards patrolled here; no prayers were spoken. Only the whispers of wind in the trees, and the quiet shimmer of blossoms that glowed faintly under the moon.
Lyssara stood among them, her hair haloed in argent light, her eyes reflecting the stars. When Seraphyne entered, even the flowers seemed to bow - their luminescence dimming in reverence.
"You shouldn't be here" Seraphyne said softly. "Neither should you," Lyssara answered, her smile faint but true.
The queen almost smiled. "I suppose we both defy the laws written for us."
Lyssara stepped closer. "Then perhaps the laws were written wrong."
They walked together beneath the branches of night - blooming trees. Around them, petals drifted like falling stars.
"this place..." Lyssara whispered, "It feels like it remembers you."
Seraphyne's gaze turned distant. "It remembers all things I've loved. The flowers grow where they have fallen. The rivers run where tears once did. Every joy I've ever touched turned to history - and still the world calls it divine."
Lyssara turned to her, eyes luminous. For a long moment, she simply looked - as if memorising her mortal shape, her warmth, her defiance. Then she took Lyssara's hand.
When the fingers touched, the air shimmered - a thousand lights rising around them like breath made visible. The runes on Seraphyne's skin pulsed, responding not with wrath, but wonder.
"You see?" Lyssara said, voice trembling. "Even your power remembers love."
Seraphyne closed her eyes. "And love remembers loss."
They lingered in silence, the kind that feels eternal - not endless, but sacred. The queen traced a stand of Lyssara's hair, the gesture reverent.
"You do not fear me," Seraphyne murmured. "I fear the world that would take you from me," Lyssara replied.
For the first time in centuries, Seraphyne laughed - soft, quiet, utterly human. It sounded like something breaking free.
"Then perhaps," she said, "we shall both defy it."
But even as she spoke, the starlight trembled. A shadow moved through the outer wall of the garden - faint, fleeting, like smoke. A watcher.
Valen's spies had found them.
Lyssara noticed first. "Someone's there."
Seraphyne turned her head, her expression shifting - the goddess returning behind her eyes. A faint ripple of power spread through the air, and the leaves shivered.
"Go," she said softly. "Now."
Lyssara's hand lingered on hers. "And you?"
"I am eternal," Seraphyne answered, though her voice faltered as if eternity had become a burden, not a gift.
Lyssara hesitated only a moment longer, then vanished into the shadows of the garden.
When she was gone, Seraphyne turned toward the intruder. The night had no mercy left in it.
At dawn a single silver feather fell from the palace spire.The people who found it swore it burned with light that could not be extinguished.