The corridors of Valeidio's royal palace were draped in an unsettling quiet, the kind of silence that stretched through the night, heavy lingering sorrow.
The flickering torches did little to dispel the gloom that had settled over the halls since Prince Eirik's departure to Zephyros.
For days, the palace had felt emptier, quieter, his absence a gaping void that not even the splendor of the royal chambers could fill.
Queen Morgana sat in the dim light of Eirik's room, the fabric of one of his robes clutched tightly in her hands.
She held it close, breathing in the faint scent that still lingered on the cloth, as if trying to hold onto the last remnants of her youngest son.
Her usually composed demeanor was crumbling, her heart aching in a way that words could not describe. How could she have let him go? How could she have allowed her child, her baby, to be sent off to a foreign land, surrounded by strangers?
