Valerius turned fully to her now, his jaw tight. "And she never spoke of it to me."
"She tried," Selene corrected softly. "When you were a boy. Do you not recall? She would sit with you in the gardens, ask you to listen to the stones beneath your feet, to the wind in the branches, to the rhythm in your own heartbeat. She wanted you to hear what she heard."
Valerius's eyes darkened as the memory surfaced—long-buried, half-forgotten. The image of Aeloria's patient hands guiding his small ones to rest on the earth, her voice gentle as she asked him to be still, to listen.
"I thought it was weakness," he admitted, his tone sharp, but beneath it lingered regret. "I believed strength came only through power, through fire and steel. I rejected her lessons. I told her… I told her I wanted to command armies, not songs."
Selene's expression grew pained. "And so she let you walk your path, though it broke her heart. She turned her teachings inward, carrying them alone, knowing the empire demanded an emperor of force—not of resonance. But Valerius…" Her eyes met his, steady and unflinching. "That doesn't mean she stopped hoping. She believed, until her final breath, that when the Silence came, someone—someone of her blood—would rise to answer it."
Valerius's throat worked as he swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on the dying light outside the window. His voice was hoarse when he spoke. "And it was not me."
Selene lowered her gaze, the silence between them heavy, unspoken truths pressing in on all sides. "No. But it was still her bloodline that answered."
Valerius stood in silence for a long moment after Selene's words, his eyes lingering on the horizon where the sun dipped low, bleeding crimson into the clouds. Finally, he exhaled slowly, the lines of grief still etched deep into his face.
"You've given me enough," he said at last, his voice quieter, but steady. "What my mother did… how she chose to act… it will not be forgotten. And neither will your honesty."
Selene inclined her head, relief and sorrow mingling in her expression. She rose from her chair, hesitating only briefly before bowing low. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
Valerius studied her for a heartbeat longer, as though weighing whether to press further, but then he gave a curt nod. "Go. Rest. You've carried enough burden."
She bowed once more and turned, her steps soft but heavy as she left the study. The doors closed behind her with a quiet thud, leaving the emperor alone in the growing dusk.
For several breaths, Valerius stood unmoving, his jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists. Then he spoke.
"Marcus."
From the shadows near the door, his right hand—Lord Commander Marcus Deylan—stepped forward, bowing deeply. "Your Majesty."
Valerius's gaze never left the city beyond the window. "I want every text, every scrap of parchment, every forgotten scroll or tome that speaks of resonance mages. No matter how obscure, no matter how old. Collect them quietly. No one outside of this room is to know."
Marcus straightened, brow furrowed. "At once, sire. May I ask… for what purpose?"
Valerius's eyes narrowed, the fading light catching in their steel-gray depths. "My mother hid too much. Too much was lost. If this 'song' she believed in is real… then I will not turn away from it again. The empire cannot afford another blind emperor."
He finally turned from the window, his face set in grim determination. "I will learn what she tried to teach me. Whatever it takes."
Marcus bowed deeply once more, understanding the weight of the order, before disappearing silently into the corridors.
And Valerius, left alone in the dimming study, whispered to the empty air:
"Mother… I will not fail you again."
Selene's steps were slow as she made her way through the dim corridors of the palace, the heavy conversation with Valerius still echoing in her chest. The torches lining the halls flickered, shadows stretching long along the polished stone, as if the walls themselves carried the weight of the empire's grief.
At last, she reached Anna's chambers. The guards at the door bowed stiffly, their expressions carefully neutral, and stepped aside. Selene pushed the door open quietly, expecting to find her daughter asleep.
Instead, she froze.
Captain Rowan stood inside, his broad frame tense, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He straightened when he saw her, relief flickering in his eyes.
"Your Majesty," he said, dipping his head respectfully. But the tone—sharp, urgent—put her on edge.
"Rowan?" Selene's voice was low, careful not to disturb Anna, who lay sleeping peacefully beneath layers of blankets, her chest rising and falling in even breaths. "What are you doing here?"
He glanced at the door, then moved closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Making sure no one but you gets what I'm holding."
Selene frowned. "Explain."
Rowan's gaze flicked once more to the hall before he reached into his cloak. From beneath the folds of dark fabric, he drew a familiar, weighty tome—its leather cracked and blackened with soot, its sigils faintly glowing despite the damage.
Selene's breath caught. The Codex.
Her hand twitched as though to snatch it away, but Rowan held it firmly, his voice grim. "I found it in the rubble that night. Buried beneath stone, near the square. I knew it wasn't meant for him—not the emperor. That's why I didn't bring it forward."
Selene's heart hammered. "Rowan… you don't know what you're holding."
"I know enough," he said quickly, his eyes flashing. "I saw what happened that night. I heard the Song… felt it in my bones. Whatever this is, it isn't just another relic. And I saw the way you and Her Majesty Aeloria fought to keep it from his hands. That told me all I needed."
He extended the Codex toward her, his expression hard but loyal. "This belongs with you. With Anna, maybe—even if she doesn't know it yet. But not Valerius. If he knew of this…" Rowan shook his head. "He'd tear the empire apart chasing its power."
The firelight glinted across the Codex's bindings, its faint hum filling the quiet room like the breath of something alive.
Selene reached out slowly, her fingertips brushing the leather. A lump formed in her throat. She had buried this weight, and yet it had found its way back to her. Back to Anna.
Her eyes flicked to her daughter, sleeping soundly, unaware of the storm that brewed around her.
She whispered, almost to herself, "Fate doesn't let go, does it?"
Selene's hand lingered on the Codex a moment longer before she drew it to her chest. Rowan studied her face, as if gauging whether she truly understood the danger of what he had just entrusted her with.
At last, he gave a short, clipped nod. "Then it's in the right hands." His voice softened, uncharacteristic for the stern captain. "For what it's worth, Your Majesty… I'll stand with you. With her. Whatever this path brings."
Selene's throat tightened, but she forced herself to nod. "Thank you, Rowan. You've done more than you know."
He bowed once, deeply, then turned on his heel. His heavy steps faded into the corridor, leaving the chamber thick with silence once more.
Selene waited until the last echo was gone before she moved. The Codex's faint hum seemed to resonate with her heartbeat as she crossed the room, her skirts whispering across the floor. She stopped at the far wall, laid her palm against the cold stone, and whispered a phrase older than Astoria itself.
The air stirred. Faint lines of light traced along the wall's surface, etching runes that shimmered and then split open with a low groan of stone shifting against stone. A narrow passage revealed itself, exhaling dust and cool, stale air.
Selene slipped inside, the wall sealing silently behind her.
The hidden chamber was small, circular, carved into the bones of the palace long before her time. Its only feature was the pedestal at its heart, ancient and worn smooth, as though it had been waiting for centuries for this moment.
She approached slowly, her hands trembling as she set the Codex of Resonance upon it. The tome seemed to settle into the stone as if it belonged there, its hum deepening, filling the chamber like a heartbeat.
Selene laid her fingertips lightly against the cover and whispered, voice breaking, "I will keep my promise, Aeloria…"
The words lingered in the cold air, a vow to the dead.
When she returned, the wall sealed itself seamlessly behind her, hiding the secret as it always had.
Anna was awake now, sitting up in her bed, her pale face half-lit by the glow of a nearby lamp. Old books—ones Selene didn't even remember bringing into the room—were open across her lap, her eyes scanning them with an emotionless focus that chilled Selene to her core.
Selene's heart clenched. She crossed the room slowly, sank to the edge of the bed, and pressed a soft kiss to Anna's forehead. Her daughter didn't look up, didn't even react.
So Selene stayed. She sat beside her in silence, her hand resting lightly over Anna's, and said nothing.
Only the rustle of turning pages broke the stillness.
Selene's chest tightened at the sound of Anna's voice—it was so soft, so fragile, that for a moment she thought she had imagined it. She turned her head, watching her daughter's pale face, her blank eyes fixed on the open pages before her.
Anna's small hand shifted against the spine of one of the books, her fingers tracing the edge as if it could anchor her in a sea she no longer understood.
"Mother…" she repeated, her voice barely more than a whisper, as though the question itself might break her. "…could you… tell me about Grandma Aeloria?"
The name struck Selene like a blade to the heart.
For a long moment, she could not answer. The silence weighed heavy between them, filled only by the faint crackle of the lamp. Selene's lips parted, but no words came at first—grief had taken them, replaced by the aching truth that Anna didn't remember. Not Aeloria's face. Not her laugh. Not the warmth of her hands.
Selene finally drew in a trembling breath and reached up, brushing a lock of Anna's hair back from her temple.
"She was… fierce," Selene began softly, her voice thick with memory. "Fierce and gentle, both. She loved with a strength that could break the world if it tried to harm what she cared for. And she was… wise, Anna. Wiser than anyone I've ever known."
Anna's eyes flickered—just faintly—her lips parting as if she wanted to ask more, but couldn't quite form the words.
Selene swallowed hard and continued, her thumb stroking Anna's hand. "She saw you, even before you understood yourself. She always said you were the spark, the one who would… who would hear the song others could not."
A lump rose in her throat, but she forced it down.
"She loved you," Selene whispered, her voice breaking now. "More than you will ever know."
Anna's expression didn't change, but her eyes shimmered, faintly reflecting the lamplight as though they might be holding back tears. She turned a page with deliberate slowness, but her voice, when it came again, was hushed, fragile.
"…I wish I remembered her."
Selene closed her eyes and pressed her forehead lightly to her daughter's temple, holding her there, as though by sheer will she could bridge the gap between what was lost and what still remained.
Selene lingered there in the quiet, her lips trembling as she pressed a kiss to Anna's temple once more. The ache of all that had been stolen pressed heavy against her chest, but she didn't let her voice falter when she finally whispered, so soft it was almost lost to the silence, "Me too."
Prelude End
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