The garden stood still, wrapped in silver moonlight and the weight of words that couldn't be taken back.
Kael's confession echoed in Lira's heart like a chorus unfinished.
> "I was ordered to follow you… but I couldn't obey."
She wanted to speak—ask questions, scream, cry—but all she did was step closer. Closer to the shadow who knew her name before she ever knew his.
"Why would the King order you to follow me?" she asked softly, clutching her cloak.
Kael's eyes darkened. "Because you're not just a court singer, Lira. You're... the key to something they've hidden. Something ancient."
He pulled a parchment from his coat—faded, burned at the edges.
She took it with trembling hands. Symbols danced across it, ones she'd seen only in childhood lullabies. Her mother used to hum them. A melody with no lyrics. A tune that made the walls of their home tremble, just a little.
"This—this song," she whispered. "My mother knew this..."
Kael nodded. "And your mother vanished without a trace."
Lira's pulse quickened. Her throat dried.
"You think the Court—?"
"I don't think," he interrupted gently. "I know."
A gust of wind shook the trees around them, as if the garden itself stirred to listen. Somewhere deeper in the woods, the sound of a bell rang—once. Low. Warning.
Kael grabbed her hand. "We don't have time. They've tracked me here."
Lira stared at him. She had two choices: return to the palace and pretend tonight never happened… or step into the unknown, with a stranger who knew her songs before she ever sang them.
> She chose the unknown.
And as they ran through the night, hand in hand, she realized… her story had never belonged to the court.
It belonged to the shadows.