The golden light of memory shimmered, reshaping into a moment of warmth, of fleeting peace.
Laughter rang through the sunlit halls of Selene's palace. A small boy, no older than five, ran through the grand corridors, his dark curls bouncing with every step. His doe like, brown eyes—so much like his mother's—shone with unfiltered joy.
Arian.
He was the heart of the kingdom, the light in Nila's life.
Nila adored him beyond measure. She spoiled him with love, showered him with warmth, her hands always gentle as she smoothed his hair or cradled him close. To her, Arian was everything good in this world.
Cyrus loved him just as fiercely, but his love was different. He was strict, expecting discipline, even in a child so young.
"A king must be strong,"Cyrus would often say. "He must learn."
But Nila would scold him every time.
