The days that followed slipped by with a quiet, steady rhythm—not with the thunder of battles, nor the tension of political gatherings, nor the weight of divine expectations, but with ropes and charts, ink and salt-stained hands, and the endless breath of the sea. For Luke and Ilyrana, life settled into something almost… ordinary.
Each morning, they left the castle after breakfast and descended the familiar path toward the eastern cliffs. The chained barriers rattled softly in the wind as they passed, a reminder of how far the empire had come in such a short time. Beyond them stretched the blue horizon—vast, patient, unknowable—and somewhere within it lay the future they were preparing for.
