The world had long forgotten the taste of true peace. Kingdoms crumbled, empires rose, and the rivers ran red with the blood of men and women who fought for banners they barely believed in. But amidst the endless cacophony of steel and fire, there existed a rare, fragile thing a love born not in the quiet serenity of peaceful days, but amidst the roar of cannons and the clash of blades.

General Lysia Veylan stood at the edge of the battlefield, the smoke curling around her like ghostly fingers. The once-golden fields of Edrion were now blackened with ash, the ground scarred by war engines and soaked with the blood of the fallen. Her armor, though battered, gleamed under the dying light of the sun, etched with the sigils of victories past. But none of that mattered now.

kael was gone.

She'd seen it happen a single arrow, dark and swift, cutting through the chaos, striking him down as if fate itself had decided it was his time. Not on the frontlines, not in a blaze of glory, but in the lull between battles when his guard was down. His death had been quick. Unfair. Senseless.

They had fought side by side for years, their strategies reshaping entire wars. Together, they had been unstoppable until now.

Lysia sank to her knees, her sword slipping from her grasp, its tip embedding into the dirt. She couldn't feel the sting of her own wounds anymore. The pain in her chest was far greater, a hollow void growing with each shallow breath.

For days, she didn't speak. Not to her soldiers, not to the counselors who pleaded for her guidance. The world continued its relentless march toward destruction, indifferent to her grief. But Lysia was not one to be broken by loss not completely.

In the silent void left by Kael's absence, a single thought burned like a beacon.