The days grew warmer as the season shifted, and Lysander found himself spending more time outdoors no longer with the intent to show off, but simply to exist. He wandered the streets of Aurelian, letting his footsteps guide him without any particular destination. He was learning, slowly but surely, that his value was not in how the world viewed him but in how he viewed himself. It was a foreign concept to him, one that left him feeling both liberated and vulnerable.
One evening, as he sat in a quiet corner of the city's central park, watching the sun set over the horizon, Lysander reflected on how far he had come. Only a few weeks ago, the idea of walking through the city without the expectation of admiration would have felt impossible. But now, it didn't seem so scary. There was something beautiful about simply being present, without all the layers of perfection and the need for validation.
Elara's words echoed in his mind once more: You're shedding the layers that were never truly you.
But shedding the layers was not easy. There were moments when Lysander caught himself wondering if people still saw him. His face wasn't what it had been before the chiseled jaw, the perfect symmetry but maybe, just maybe, it didn't have to be. He was learning to trust the person beneath the mask, the person who had been hidden for so long.
That evening, as he strolled through the park, Lysander saw a familiar face a young woman he had once courted briefly. Her name was Isolde, a noblewoman with a reputation for being highly selective about who she associated with. The last time he had seen her, she had admired his beauty with a gaze full of awe, and he had relished the attention.
But now, when their eyes met, there was no adoration. No fluttering gaze or admiration for his appearance. Instead, Isolde simply smiled politely, nodding in recognition as she passed by. Lysander didn't mind. In fact, he almost preferred it. It was as if the expectations had been stripped away, and they were two people simply existing in the same space, not defined by their social standing or the image they projected.
For a moment, Lysander felt a strange sense of peace. The world hadn't collapsed because he wasn't the center of attention. In fact, it had continued on without him, moving and breathing in its own rhythm. He wasn't the most important thing in the world anymore, and that was okay.
The realization hit him hard in that moment: He wasn't defined by his beauty. He didn't have to be the most admired, the most perfect, or the most envied. He could just be Lysander human, flawed, and worthy of love and respect just like everyone else.
And with that realization came another: Maybe it wasn't just Elara who had helped him see this new version of himself. Maybe, in a way, it had always been inside him, waiting for the right time to emerge. It wasn't that he had changed into someone else. He was simply uncovering the person he had been all along.