The dawn light filtered through the tall windows of the Ardent estate, casting long, pale beams across the cold marble floor. The grand hall beyond Kael's chamber stirred quietly with the first movements of the day—servants already moving through their routines with practiced efficiency, polishing silver trays, lighting enchanted lanterns, and arranging fresh flowers in heavy stone vases.
From the corner of the room, Maris, the young servant girl assigned to Kael, approached the heavy oak door. Her footsteps were soft but purposeful, echoing faintly in the stillness. She paused, then knocked gently.
"Master Kael," she whispered, voice steady yet careful, "your sisters are in the garden. They're waiting."
Kael's eyes, sharp and unblinking, shifted toward the window. Outside, past the trimmed hedges and marble fountains, two small figures darted between the flowering shrubs—his twin sisters, Alys and Elen, barely ten years old. Their laughter floated faintly on the morning breeze, light and carefree, utterly unaware of the walls that confined them.
Inside, the estate's staff moved like clockwork—guards sharpening their blades in the courtyard, cooks tending the kitchens' roaring fires, and tutors gathering in the great hall, ready for the day's lessons. The endless hum of duty pressed against the silence in Kael's chamber.
He said nothing.
His gaze lingered on the twins for a moment longer, then turned away, fixed on the empty space beside the bed.
There was no warmth in his expression—only the cold calculation of a boy who had long since learned that emotion was a luxury he could not afford.
Maris waited outside the chamber for a moment longer, then quietly withdrew, leaving the heavy oak door to close with a soft thud.
Kael sat on the edge of his bed, the cool fabric of the coverlet untouched beneath him. His gaze was fixed on the window, where the twin sisters, Alys and Elen, chased each other through the morning mist in the gardens below. Their small feet stirred petals and dew alike, but they moved with the careless joy of children unaware of the world beyond their walls.
The faint sounds of the estate reached him: the low murmur of servants beginning their day, the distant clang of armor as guards prepared for inspection, the rustle of silk gowns as ladies of the household took their morning walks in the hallways.
Kael's fingers curled into a loose fist at his side. He did not feel the warmth that might have come with watching his sisters, nor the peace that the estate's quiet beauty might inspire. His mind was elsewhere, cataloging details—times, faces, movements—all recorded like data in a machine.
There was no room for hope, only calculation.
Without a word, he stood and dressed in the dark leather training clothes laid out neatly on the chair. The armor he would wear for drills rested ready on the rack.