"How long do we have? We've been moving for weeks," I asked, shifting uncomfortably on the stiff carriage seat. My legs ache from being cramped for so long, and the constant swaying made my stomach churn. I was tired of this journey—of the endless roads, the smell of damp wood, and the muffled clatter of hooves against the dirt. Across from me, the counselor barely moved. He sat with his hands folded neatly in his lap, his thin fingers laced together as if he had all the patience in the world. "Not long, Your Highness," he said in that calm, measured tone of his. "The detour was necessary, I'm afraid. We must get you through the back without the common folk seeing you. But we'll be there soon." I frowned, pulling my cloak tighter around my shoulders. I didn't understand why it had to be such a secret. Why couldn't I just walk through the front like everyone else? What was there to be so afraid of?
The counselor wasn't like the other men who had served my family. He was tall and bony, his long face always set in a look that made it hard to tell if he was thinking something important or just bored. His hair was so thin it barely looked like it was still holding on, wisps of gray clinging to his head. He said he was sixty-six, but something about him—maybe the way his sharp eyes missed nothing or how he always seemed to know things before anyone else—made me think he was older than he let on.
Outside, the rain had started again, tapping softly against the carriage roof. The little window beside me was fogged up from my breath, and I wiped it with my sleeve, peering out. Trees loomed on either side of the road, their twisted branches stretching toward the sky like bony fingers. Everything was so dark and quiet. It made my stomach twist. I should have been excited. After all, I was finally going to see my uncle. But instead, a strange feeling settled deep in my chest
"So, Raizel, I've noticed that you grasp that sapphire necklace every time you seem nervous," I say, my voice calm but inquisitive, gently prodding at something I've observed for a while. "I want to know why."
Raizel stiffens slightly, his fingers instinctively tightening around the pendant. His gaze flickers toward me for a moment, then quickly darts away, as if the question itself is an unspoken burden he's tried to keep hidden. The soft sheen of the sapphire catches the light, and for a heartbeat, it almost seems like the jewel itself is alive, pulsing with the same unease that radiates from the young prince.
He doesn't speak right away, his chest rising and falling as if searching for the right words or perhaps the courage to voice what's trapped within.
The counselor, always watchful, leans forward just a fraction, his sharp eyes narrowing with quiet understanding. It's as if he can see through Raizel, peeling back layers of emotion and fear that even the boy himself may not fully comprehend. There's a certain intensity in the counselor's gaze, one that seems to read souls more than faces.
"I know what you're thinking," the counselor begins, his voice low and measured, knowing exactly what's at stake here. "But sometimes, the hardest truths are the ones we avoid." He looks at Raizel with a softness that contrasts the sharpness of his earlier words. Raizel's fingers falter around the sapphire, the chain growing warm beneath his grip, as if it's tethering him to something deeper than just its beauty. Then, as if surrendering to some unspoken weight, Raizel speaks, his voice barely above a whisper."You know what will happen if our mother dies, don't you?" His question hangs in the air, fragile and trembling.The counselor doesn't flinch, doesn't pause. He simply nods, his eyes lowering to the baby in his arms, who stirs softly. His expression hardens, the knowledge of what's coming a shadow that lingers in his eyes.
"Yes, my prince," the counselor says, his voice firm but gentle. "She will have six days of mourning, as is tradition. After that, she will be taken back to the Caeltharion Palace, where her family will bury her." His words feel like an echo of something far colder and inevitable than Raizel can truly grasp in this moment.
Raizel's breath hitches in his chest, and for the first time, his grip on the necklace loosens, as if the weight of it has grown unbearable. His face pales, his wide eyes reflecting something more than fear—something deeper, more personal.
"But… but won't she still be with us?" Raizel's voice trembles, and I see the flicker of a child's innocence fighting against the reality crashing in on him. "I won't have my mother anymore… and my brother, he…" His eyes flick toward the tiny form of Rozen, the infant helpless in the counselor's arms, and his voice cracks. "He might never even get the chance to remember her."
There is a long pause, a painful silence that weighs heavier than any words could. The counselor, always a figure of control, finally exhales—a slow, steady release, as if he's preparing himself for the words that must follow. He glances down at Raizel, meeting his gaze with a quiet sorrow of his own.
"That is life, my prince," the counselor says, the finality of his tone both comforting and unforgiving. "Everyone must go when death comes knocking. It is the nature of things. We cannot hold on to those who are meant to leave us."
Raizel's lips tremble, the words unable to escape, and I see a flicker of panic—of grief—that is too much for him to bear. His hands curl tightly around the sapphire, knuckles white with the force of his grip. The necklace digs into his skin as if it might anchor him to some semblance of safety, but there is no safety to be found in such a moment.
"I—I don't want her to leave," Raizel says, his voice small and vulnerable, the child in him desperately clinging to what he cannot keep. "I don't want to be alone."
The counselor looks at him, his gaze softening, and for a fleeting moment, I wonder if he, too, has ever felt such helplessness.
"You will never truly be alone, Raizel," the counselor says quietly. "Not as long as we are here. But there are things in this world that even we cannot change. Death is one of them."
Raizel doesn't answer. His eyes, glazed with the beginning of tears, turn once more to the window, where the world outside continues in its unforgiving rhythm, oblivious to the storm brewing within him.
For a long while, he remains there, staring into the distance, clutching the sapphire necklace as if it were the last tether to a reality that is slipping further and further away.
The counselor stands slowly, carefully shifting Rozen in his arms, and moves toward the window, though his gaze lingers on the young prince.
"Sometimes, it is not the one who leaves that we must mourn, my prince," he says softly, almost to himself. "But the one who must stay behind to live ."