Six months had passed since the Crown Princess of Aurelthar disappeared from the public eye.
Officially, the imperial family spoke of her "fragile condition," claiming that Crown Princess Elara Veyldan was confined within the crown princess palace due to a sudden relapse of illness.
But beyond the golden gates, whispers grew sharper.
The royal gazettes and city tabloids published contradicting stories: "Crown Princess Still Recuperating. Imperial Family Requests Privacy," one headline declared, printed in gold.
Yet in the same paper's corner, another article questioned, "Was the Blackout During the Preparatory Gathering a Cover-Up? Where is Elara Veyldan?"
Despite the palace's efforts to silence the matter, the people's curiosity only deepened.
Some claimed to have seen her silhouette near the western borders; others insisted she had perished that night when the lights went out, and the world blinked her out of existence.
When the Founding Anniversary of Aurelthar came, an event that once radiated splendor, the grand hall felt hollow. The absence of the Crown Princess became the centerpiece of the celebration no one dared to mention.
Reporters, nobles, and even foreign emissaries turned their eyes toward Duke Caelum Veyldan, the man known for his silence and iron will.
Invitations for statements flooded his estate, yet none were answered. He neither confirmed nor denied the rumors, leaving the nation restless.
And though the imperial family tried to divert attention to announce reforms, victories, and alliances. The same question echoed quietly through every printed page and every late-night conversation:
Where is Elara Veyldan?Is she still alive? Or has the empire already buried its light beneath its lies?
"Those blasted councilmen—" Emperor Alaric Valen Aurelthar's voice thundered, startling even the servers stationed at a respectful distance. The imperial family was having dinner, though none seemed to have an appetite.
"They dare suggest replacing Elara as Crown Princess, as if she were some fragile ornament to be exchanged at their whim!"
Empress Lysandra placed her hand lightly over his, her voice calm but laced with unease. "Alaric, please. You'll ruin your appetite again."
"My appetite?"His laugh was sharp, humorless. "How can I eat when half the Council is breathing down my neck, demanding answers I do not have? One dares to question her ability to bear an heir, while another whispers that the crown needs stability. In truth, none of them know what happened. They only crave assurance for their power!"
Adrienne's fork paused mid-air. His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
The Emperor noticed. "And you, Adrienne," he snapped, "you sit there in silence while your fiancée is being spoken of like a defective heirloom! You were there during the blackout, you should've done something!"
Adrienne's grip on his utensil whitened his knuckles. "With all due respect, Father," he said quietly, "you've asked me to maintain appearances. To keep the illusion alive."
"That illusion," Alaric growled, "is the only thing keeping this empire from tearing itself apart." He raked a hand through his hair, frustration carving deep lines across his face. "Six months, Lysandra. Six months and no trace. The council grows restless, the public hungers for scandal, and that damned Duke Caelum—"
He slammed his fist lightly against the table, the plates rattling. "—that man has not uttered a single word! Not one! While the whole nation demands to hear from him, he hides behind his silence. His daughter vanishes, and he chooses to play deaf and blind. It's infuriating!"
The Empress sighed softly, her gaze distant. "Perhaps he grieves in his own way," she murmured.
"Grief doesn't excuse cowardice,"Alaric bit out. "If he knows anything, he should speak before the council turns that silence into guilt."
Adrienne's gaze lowered, shadowed by guilt and something unspoken. "Duke Caelum is not the only one burdened by silence," he said under his breath.
Alaric set down his utensils with deliberate care. "If you still cannot find a way to bring Elara back. If you cannot even tell me where she is, then God knows where she's gone, but I will have no choice but to follow the council's demand."
Adrienne's head snapped up, eyes dark with disbelief.
Alaric continued, unflinching. "Yes, it pains me. She was bright, gifted… a child with promise. But the empire cannot afford an empty throne beside its crown prince. We cannot let the public see that chaos brews behind the palace walls. You understand this, don't you?"
Silence clung to the air like smoke.
Then, Alaric's tone hardened. "I will give you three months, Adrienne. Three. If by then you have not found Elara, or a way to explain her absence, I will begin the process of choosing another candidate for Crown Princess."
The words struck like steel.
Adrienne rose from his chair, composure shattering. "No, Father." His voice trembled with fury he rarely showed. "There will be no other Crown Princess except Elara."
Alaric stood as well, towering, his temper flaring. "This is not about sentiment! This is about the empire's stability!"
Adrienne's voice rose to meet his. "The empire you speak of, does it have room for loyalty? Or must it always trade hearts for crowns?"
"Watch your tone, boy!"
"Then stop treating her like she's dispensable!" Adrienne's hand clenched against the table. "You ask me to find her while you already speak of replacing her. You talk about duty, yet you've forgotten the woman who bore that duty without complaint until the end!"
"Enough!" Alaric's voice thundered, shaking the hall. "Your emotions will destroy you before the throne ever will!"
"Then so be it!"
The Empress's voice finally cut through, cool but sharp as glass. "That's enough!"
Lysandra rose, her calm presence commanding the silence the two men refused to find. She turned first to Adrienne. "Your father isn't wrong, Adrienne. The empire cannot appear weak. If the council senses hesitation, they will strike."
Then she faced Alaric, her tone softer but firm. "And you, my emperor, you know your son's heart. He loved that girl. You may call it sentiment, but it's also his strength. Don't turn it into his shame."
Neither man replied. But when Adrienne heard his mother speak the word love, that was when he realized why his anger burned so fiercely. It wasn't just duty that drove him, it was longing. It was love.
At the Veyldan estate had grown silent these past six months. So silent that even the wind seemed to tread carefully across its marble courtyards. Servants spoke in hushed tones; laughter had long been forbidden by the weight of their lord's grief.
Duke Caelum Veyldan sat alone in his study when the dream came again.
He woke with a start, the name Elara caught between his breath and the dying echo of her voice.
"Why wouldn't you believe me, Father?
Why did you listen to them instead?"
The words clung to his mind like the remnants of smoke.
He rubbed his temples, trying to shake off the unease.
"It was only a dream,"he muttered. Yet the anguish in that voice. So familiar, so accusing, felt real enough to reopen wounds he thought had already scarred.
A gentle knock at the door drew him back to the waking world.
Isolde entered, graceful in her silks, carrying the drowsy infant against her shoulder. The child gurgled softly, reaching for the candlelight. "You didn't come down for breakfast again," she said with a smile too careful to be sincere.
"I wasn't hungry,"Caelum replied, his gaze lingering on the child. The boy's eyes, warm brown, nothing like his own, searched the room with innocent wonder. He almost smiled, almost forgot the hollowness in his chest.
"Another nightmare?"Isolde asked, settling the baby into his cradle near the window. Her tone was casual, but there was curiosity beneath it, a subtle probing.
Caelum nodded absently. "Strange ones. I keep seeing… her. But she's different somehow. She keeps asking why I never believed her."
Isolde turned her head slightly, her expression unreadable. "Dreams have a way of playing tricks, my lord. Perhaps it's guilt. You've carried too much since she vanished."
He leaned back in his chair, eyes shadowed. "Perhaps."
The baby began to fuss, small hands reaching toward him. Caelum hesitated before standing and lifting the child into his arms. "It's almost been a year since you came to us," he murmured to the boy, voice low. "You've brought light back into this house."
Isolde's smile flickered. "Our light," she echoed.
But as Caelum rocked the child, that unshakable sense of wrongness stirred again. The same feeling that haunted his dreams. Something about the boy's features, the timing, the whispering doubts he refused to voice aloud.
He looked past the window where snow began to fall over the silent estate and thought, Why does it all feel like borrowed peace?
"Father!"
Seraphine glided into the room. The faint perfume of violets followed her. A scent Elara once loved, now worn by someone else. She was dressed finely, far too finely for a morning visit.
She curtsied elegantly. "Mother said I should remind you about the luncheon with the northern envoys tomorrow. You promised to attend."
Caelum blinked, still half lost in his thoughts. "Did I?"
Seraphine smiled sweetly. "You did. Though… perhaps your mind is elsewhere again." She tilted her head, eyes gleaming. "Still dreaming about her, aren't you?"
"Seraphine," Isolde warned quietly, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
But the girl only shrugged, moving to the cradle to tickle the infant's chin. "It's been six months, Father. Sister wouldn't want you to mourn her forever. She always hated weakness."
"Enough." Caelum's tone cut through the air, sharper than he intended. Seraphine flinched, but her eyes flashed with something that looked more like defiance than fear.
He exhaled, massaging his temple. "Go help your tutors prepare for your lessons. And Seraphine, show respect when you speak of your sister."
She curtsied again, but the curve of her lips betrayed the resentment she never bothered to hide. "Of course, Father."Then she turned to her mother, voice soft and mocking. "Come, Mother. Let's not disturb him further. He needs rest… from his ghosts."
When they left, Caelum stared into the empty space they had filled. The faint cries of the baby mixed with the whisper of his dream, the same question looping endlessly in his mind:
Why didn't you believe me, Father?
He looked at his trembling hands and whispered to no one, "Because I didn't know how."
Outside, snow began to fall again, covering the Veyldan estate in a silence so complete it felt like mourning.