Leon paced the grand hall, its marble floors cool beneath his feet as sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows. Each beam painted the room with splashes of vibrant colors, but they did little to brighten his mood. It had been days since Atlas's sudden withdrawal—a change so sharp and so complete that it left Leon grasping at fragments of their bond.
Whispers echoed in the corridors. Servants exchanged knowing glances, and nobles feigned concern, yet their eyes gleamed with thinly veiled intrigue. The rumor mill churned incessantly, questioning why Atlas, once so devoted, now wore the mask of indifference.
"Leon, are you even listening?" Cecily's sharp voice snapped him out of his thoughts. His elder sister stood before him, hands on her hips and worry etched on her usually composed face.
"I'm sorry, Cecily. I'm just—"
"Worried," she finished, softening her tone. "We all are. But brooding won't help."
Leon nodded absently, his gaze shifting to the distant horizon beyond the windows. The kingdom of Fleur, with its sprawling fields and imposing palaces, loomed in the distance—a reminder of alliances that once stood firm but now trembled on uncertain ground.
A shadow moved in the corner of the room, drawing Leon's attention. He stiffened, eyes narrowing as he tried to discern if it was merely a trick of the light or something more sinister.
Cecily followed his gaze, eyes darkening with suspicion. "The tensions with Fleur have escalated beyond what's been spoken aloud," she said in a near whisper. "If Atlas's strange behavior is connected to that kingdom, we need to be prepared."
Leon's heart sank at the implication. Atlas's silence, the distant look in his eyes—could it truly be tied to the looming threat Fleur posed? Or was it something far deeper, a consequence of the tangled web of memories and forgotten bonds?
Before he could respond, a messenger burst into the hall, his breathing ragged and face pale. "Your Highness," he gasped, bowing low. "The envoy from Fleur has arrived—and they demand an immediate audience."
Leon's pulse quickened. Whatever truths lay hidden, whatever darkness threatened to surface, there was no turning back now.
"Prepare the council," Leon ordered, his voice steady but laced with apprehension. "We'll meet them in the throne room."
As Cecily placed a reassuring hand on his arm, Leon steeled himself for the confrontation ahead. The fate of their kingdom—and perhaps his fragile connection to Atlas—hung in the balance.