The pressure did not arrive all at once.
It came in looks. In pauses. In words that sounded harmless but weren't.
Kael noticed it during training.
His brothers no longer sparred with him the same way. Blades struck harder. Smiles came quicker and colder. Advice turned into tests meant to make him fail.
Prince Malrik watched him closely from the edge of the field. "You're careful lately," he said after a match. "Careful men don't win crowns."
Kael wiped sweat from his brow. "Careful men live long enough to rule."
Malrik smiled thinly. "Or long enough to be replaced."
That night, Kael learned Prince Rhaegor had burned another border village. No prisoners. No survivors.
The message was clear.
This is how a true heir fights.
Kael said nothing, but something settled in his chest—heavy and sharp. If he continued to hesitate, his brothers would not wait for the king's judgment. They would decide for him.
Across the border, Lunara faced her own narrowing path.
The palace summons came again, this time openly.
She was escorted through the halls in full view of courtiers and guards. Whispers followed her steps, no longer quiet.
Inside the chamber, Prince Caelum waited.
He was dressed well, posture perfect, eyes calm in a way that made Lunara uneasy. He looked at her as one might look at a valuable piece on a board.
"You've caused quite a stir," he said. "The people respect you."
She did not bow. "I serve Nyvoria."
"That is why you will serve beside me," Caelum replied. "Our union will stabilize the land."
"And my choice?" Lunara asked.
Caelum's expression did not change. "Choice is a luxury granted to those without responsibility."
Later, Lunara stood with her parents in silence. The wedding date had not been announced yet—but it was no longer a question of if.
Her mother clutched her hands. "We wanted to keep you safe."
"I know," Lunara said.
But safety felt a lot like a cage.
That night, Kael stood on the ramparts of the Aethros camp, watching the fires burn lower. Lunara stood on the walls of Nyvoria, staring into the same dark stretch of land.
Neither slept.
Both felt it the tightening pull of expectation, duty, blood, and fate.
The war was no longer only between lands.
It was pressing in on them personally now.