The night was still.
Moonlight spilled across the marble floor of the balcony where Celina stood, her silk robe swaying gently in the wind. The soft echo of footsteps pulled her from her thoughts.
She turned — and there stood her eldest daughter.
Celina's face softened with a tired smile. "I thought you'd stopped visiting your mother at midnight," she said gently. "Can't sleep?"
Claire hesitated before walking forward, her bare feet silent against the floor. She sat down beside her mother, eyes distant.
"Mother…" she began quietly. "Why is the King celebrating my birthday?"
Celina froze. For a moment, even the wind stilled. She turned toward her daughter, meeting those ocean-blue eyes that mirrored her own. Her lips pressed into a thin line before she finally spoke.
"You don't remember, do you?" Her voice was soft, but heavy. "You are betrothed to the King. Four years ago, Sebastian came here to ask for your hand in marriage."
Claire stared at her, disbelief flashing across her face. The words didn't feel real — like a memory she couldn't reach.
Betrothed… to the King?
Her voice trembled. "Mother… I've fallen in love with Nick." She lifted her hand, showing the ring that glimmered faintly in the moonlight. "He proposed to me. He's kind, and gentle. He makes me laugh. I love him, and he loves me. I'll be happy with him — truly happy."
Celina's eyes widened for a brief moment. She had known of Nick — the young witch — but never imagined this. Her chest ached with both pride and fear.
"Oh, my dear girl," she whispered, pulling Claire into her arms. "My sweet, foolish heart."
Claire clung to her, tears spilling silently down her cheeks. For a long time, they said nothing — only the sound of the night wind filled the silence.
Then Celina slowly pulled away. Her expression had changed — soft eyes now shadowed by dread.
"Claire," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "King Sebastian will kill anyone who catches your heart. You must never let him hear the name Nick."
Claire stared at her, horror flooding her chest.
Celina's voice cracked. "If it were my life alone, I would let you run to him. But your sisters… he would not spare them. You must understand, my love. Your happiness cannot come at the cost of their lives."
The world seemed to fall silent around them.
Claire's lips trembled as she whispered, "I'll talk to him, Mother. I'll make him understand. I'll convince him."
Celina shook her head slowly, sorrow clouding her gaze. "No, child. He knows what you are. He knows your lineage. He won't let you go — not now. All you can do is guard your heart and use your power wisely. And when he comes… give him a chance."
The words cut deeper than any blade.
Claire lowered her head into her mother's lap, her tears soaking through the silk of her robe. Celina's hands trembled as she stroked her daughter's hair — the same soft silver strands that once reminded her of innocence, now marked by fate.
She held her close, knowing there was no comfort left to offer — only the quiet grief of a mother watching her daughter's heart break in silence.