The balcony was quiet again.
The wind still touched my hair, but in a calm way. It no longer screamed. Now, it whispered. I stood there for what felt like an eternity, holding the cold stone railing, waiting for the heaviness in my chest to settle like dust after a storm. I didn't look down. I couldn't.
My arms shook a little, but I did my best to stay still. I didn't move and I barely breathed.
Only when the chill of the wind crept through the thin fabric of my sleeves and touched my skin did I finally turn away.
Back inside, the room felt too big and quiet. The fire in the hearth had died down, its glow barely reaching the corners. The walls were lined with long and silent shadows. My footsteps made almost no sound on the smooth floor. It felt like I was walking through someone else's life. Not mine.
I didn't call for Alina. I didn't want company. I didn't want anything.
By the time I reached the bed, I could already feel my strength slipping through the cracks.
---
The dream came like a sudden wind and just like that, I was no longer in my room.
There was fire everywhere. But not the kind that destroyed. These flames spun in circles, rising and falling in perfect rhythm. They moved around a woman standing at the centre, like a crown made of light. Gold and orange fire curled around her, casting flickering shadows that felt ancient.
She stood barefoot on the stone floor. The fire touched her skin but it didn't burn and she didn't move away. Her long, dark hair flowed around her like it belonged to the fire. Her skin glowed softly, like sunlight had become a part of her.
Then her eyes met mine. Her stare was heavy and I could barely hold it. It wasn't sad or angry. It was just... ancient. Like she had lived many lives and carried them all inside her.
"Lyra," she said.
It wasn't a question nor was it even a greeting. It felt like a truth. One that had waited a long time to be spoken out loud.
She stepped towards me. The fire opened for her, curling like smoke. I couldn't see her face clearly, but I felt her in a way I couldn't explain.
"You are not here by chance," she said softly.
The flames rose higher, glowing brighter.
"He must remember."
I didn't know what she meant. My skin began to tingle. Heat climbed up my arm and then golden light spread across my wrist, like ink pouring into water. Strange symbols appeared on my skin in thin and glowing lines. They weren't words. They were shapes and they looked alive, powerful and old... like they had been carved into the bones of the world itself.
The woman lifted her hand, her palm facing me.
"You must become."
The fire rushed forward and I woke up with a loud gasp.
---
I was in my dark room again. Cold air brushed my face as moonlight slipped in through the curtains, drawing silver lines on the floor. Sweat clung to my skin and my chest rose and fell too fast.
I sat up, blinking hard, trying to steady my breath.
My wrist still tingled.
I looked down and what I saw made me freeze.
A faint shimmer of gold pulsed beneath my skin. The same symbols from the dream. They flickered once, like a heartbeat and then faded almost immediately, leaving only smooth skin behind.
I touched the spot with my palm.
It was gone but I couldn't forget.
My heart wouldn't settle. I hugged my arms around myself, still shaking from the echo of her voice.
He must remember. Was she talking about Caspian?
A soft knock broke the silence and I stiffened.
The door creaked open, and Alina stepped in, holding a small candle that lit her face in warm light. "You called out in your sleep," she said gently.
"Did I?" I asked, even though I knew I had.
She nodded, then glanced at my wrist. I quickly pulled my sleeve down.
"It was just a dream," I said, though I didn't believe it.
Alina tilted her head. "Some dreams are more than that," she replied, quiet but steady.
I hesitated. Then I asked, "Alina... have you ever heard of a woman standing in fire? A woman who doesn't burn?"
She froze.
"She had dark hair," I added. "And her voice... it sounded like it had waited hundreds of years just to speak."
The candle flickered in her hand. Her eyes shifted toward the window, like she was checking for unseen listeners.
"There are stories," she said finally. "Old ones. Whispered when no one's around to hear."
"What kind of stories?" I asked, sitting upright.
Her fingers tightened around the candleholder. "Stories of one woman, who carried more than just the ancient Drayweil blood. One who carried truth, power and destiny within her grasp."
I swallowed. "Who was she?"
Alina slowly shook her head. "That name is no longer spoken. Not here. Not safely."
There was fear in her eyes, and something else, something close to warning. Warning that she had already said too much.
She stepped back, her expression softening. "Try to rest. Morning will come quickly."
She left the door open a little, the soft glow of her candle fading slowly as she walked away.
But I didn't sleep.
I stayed awake long after the darkness drifted away, sitting upright with my knees to my chest, staring at my wrist. The markings never came back, but my skin felt different like it had been touched by something more than fire.
By midmorning, another knock came. Firmer this time, I knew it was not Alina.
A palace courier stood in the doorway, dressed in navy and gold. He didn't look at me directly. He simply held out a folded note.
"A message for you, Princess," he said stiffly.
I took it. The seal had Caspian's initials on it. Cold dread settled in my chest.
I broke the seal and opened the note.
It was short and straight with no warmth. No signature beyond his initials.
You owe me nothing.
You do not need to act the part of a wife.
I do not plan to keep one.
C.D.
That was all.
I read it again. And again. Hoping the words would change. That they'd start to mean something else but they didn't.
I folded the paper, smaller and tighter, until it disappeared into my fist.
I didn't cry.
There was nothing to cry about.
Except... a small voice whispered inside me:
Then why did he catch me on the balcony? Why did he hold me like he couldn't let go?
And why did the woman in my dream sound like she was mourning him?
I walked towards the window and stood by it with my hand resting on the cold glass. Outside, the forest stretched far and deep. The trees moved gently, like they were holding their own secrets. The sky was pale grey.
My fingers touched my wrist again. It looked normal, but it still felt warm, as if the fire was still hiding just beneath my skin.
The dream was already slipping away, like smoke fading into the air but I could still hear her voice.
Calling. Waiting. Burning.
And somehow, deep down, I knew...
This wasn't the end.
Not for Me.
Not for Caspian.
It was only the beginning.