The moon hung high in the velvet sky, casting a ghostly glow over the silent streets of Geraldion. Princess Melania walked through the shadows, her heart pounding with a mixture of grief and disbelief. For the past three days, she refused to believe that everything that had happened was true, but as she opened her eyes yet again this evening, her mind was heavy.
As she finally reached her destination, the woman paused and leaned against the cold and rough surface of the apple tree that was so out of place among the scarce greenery around Hayim's humble home.
His tiny art studio, once a haven of creativity and warmth, now lay in ruin, a stark testament to the cruelty of the court's judgment. Hayim's hands had been severed, his talent forever silenced by the merciless decree of the judge. Since that dreadful day, Melania hadn't dared to seek the young man out, haunted by the guilt and shame that consumed her soul.
