Two days. Forty-eight hours since Inessa's blood stained Alter's hands, and still, the scent of crown flowers haunted the halls like a ghost. The clouds refused to leave the skies of Evrolian. A drizzle bathed the palace courtyard, leaving a chill among the damp stones and old roots that emerged from the earth. In the far corner of the courtyard, right on a carved seat made of coiled dragon root forming a natural throne, a young man sat in silence. Prince Alter.
His cloak was soaked, stained with mud and dried blood. His father's heirloom sword was planted beside his feet, its blade faintly glowing with traces of enemy blood. The hunt at the Black Valley had failed. Fergus, the cursed uncle, had vanished once again into the shadows that had hidden him for years.
Alter's gaze was empty. He saw no rain, heard no wind, cared not that his body trembled. The cold that crept into his pores did not come from the sky, but from a place far deeper, one inhabited only by loss.
A hesitant servant approached from behind the palace pillars. Rain soaked his hair, but he still bowed respectfully, bringing a message from the Queen.
"Queen asks... that Prince please come inside. The weather is worsening—"
"Leave."
The word dropped from Alter's lips like dew on dead earth. Flat, toneless, yet like a command that could not be denied. The servant swallowed hard, but his courage rebelled for a moment.
"I only—"
"Go." This time, his tone was nearly the same, but sharp enough to freeze the servant's blood. There was pain behind that voice. A pain more frightening than any fury.
He withdrew, leaving the young prince shivering in silence.
The rain was no longer a drizzle. The sky wept completely.
Tears fell down Alter's cheeks. He hadn't realized it. Like mist drifting down slowly, cold and wet. His eyes stared blankly ahead—until a vague silhouette appeared through the veil of rain. Her steps were light. Her movements graceful. As if dancing. Claretta.
The figure said nothing. Did not extend a hand. She only looked at him with the same gentleness as that final night they danced in the garden behind the palace.
Alter jolted. He stood.
His feet seemed to move on their own, stepping forward to follow the silhouette of his wife who continued walking, fading and reappearing in the mist. His wet shoes stepped onto the deep red carpet as he entered the palace corridor. Each step left watery footprints that slowly erased the dust of time.
Two servants stood at the end of the corridor, heads bowed in silence, holding their breath as the Prince passed. None dared to ask, none dared lift their gaze. They knew where he was going.
The mourning chamber.
A tall door engraved with the royal crest stood proudly before Alter. He opened it silently. Inside, the familiar scent of white flowers welcomed him. Petals shaped like crowns adorned the room, like a bed of grief prepared for a single soul.
At the center stood a crystal urn, engraved with a white flame. There, Inessa's ashes lay.
Alter stepped forward slowly, his knees nearly buckling. His eyes were wet, yet a faint smile graced the corners of his lips.
"I came, my Princess."
He knelt. Brushed the side of the urn with trembling fingers. In silence, he apologized. In silence, he pledged his final love.
While the prince lingered in grief, Queen Estelle stepped quietly into an old room filled with ancient symbols and the soft flicker of candlelight in the palace's west wing. The room belonged to Achilles, one of the Royal elders, an old man with silver hair known for reading prophecies. At the center stood a round mirror as tall as a chest, its surface misty and faintly glowing with magic light.
Achilles stood before the mirror, both hands raised, lips muttering ancient incantations. Sweat beaded his temples despite the chill air. Surrounding the mirror were hanging protective talismans, scrolls with ancient script, and crystals that caught the light.
Queen Estelle leaned against a chair cushioned in dark purple velvet. Her face was impatient, though she hid it. Until finally, words slipped from her lips as Achilles opened his eyes.
"Well, Achilles? Does the prophecy remain the same?"
The old man wiped his forehead and exhaled heavily before answering. "Still the same, Your Majesty. Love, marriage, and the birth of an heir." Achilles paused before continuing. "A young king bearing the birthmark like Prince Alter must pass through these three phases to defeat the traitor and restore prosperity to Evrolian."
Achilles' explanation left Queen Estelle silent. The kingdom was in a crisis—drought, famine, and a dwindling birth rate. And now Alter had just lost the woman he dearly loved. Though it pained her, the queen had to make a decision for the sake of the kingdom and its people.
"Thirty days from now, prepare the proposal for Princess Athania..." the queen ordered bitterly.
"Your Majesty ... but Prince Alter has just—"
"I know, Achilles. I'm a mother. I know he's grieving. But I cannot just stand by while our people suffer." Queen Estelle looked out the large, curtainless window at the night sky.
**
The sky still cried as Alter stood on the edge of a bottomless cliff, beyond the palace's reach, on barren land grown only with wild grass and death.
In his arms, the urn containing Inessa's ashes.
The wind swirled gently, lifting his cloak, brushing his hair. Before him, only endless darkness. No one knew what lay at the bottom of the cliff. Anything that had fallen was never seen again.
One by one, he scattered the ashes, letting the wind carry the remains of Inessa to who knows where. Only silence and the soft wail of the grass remained.
Memories from years past flashed in Alter's mind, forcing themselves into his fresh wounds. Of the day he first met Inessa, when he was just eight years old.
Alter had never liked crowds, including the royal party held in Luminaria Kingdom that evening. Instead of enjoying the sweet-smelling delicacies, he chose solitude in the back garden, collecting white star-shaped leaves.
Hesitant footsteps sounded. The first princess of Luminaria approached with a small, brain-shaped red fruit in hand. Her chubby cheeks flushed slightly, nearly matching the color of her neatly braided hair.
"This ... is for you," she said softly to Alter.
He turned, and for the first time saw those beautiful green eyes. Eyes that made him forget how to breathe for a moment. His face turned red. He ignored the fruit Inessa offered and pretended to busy himself with the leaves to hide his blushing face.
Thinking her gift was rejected, young Inessa bowed in disappointment. She turned and left without looking back. Alter wanted to call out but his tongue was tied. That first meeting became an unavoidable misunderstanding.
Two years later, they met again at the Evrolian Palace. That autumn, sons and daughters of allied kingdoms were sent to study wind magic. Inessa was among them. But she was still a timid girl who cried easily. One night she wept just from missing her crown flower garden.
"I want to go home, I miss my garden..." she sobbed to her nanny.
Alter overheard and immediately sought out a palace gardener, asked for crown flower seeds, and planted them himself. He tended the garden with care until her favorite flowers bloomed beautifully.
Seven years passed. Alter walked briskly toward the crown garden. When he spotted a girl with long red hair and a light purple dress, his steps slowed and finally stopped.
"Princess Inessa..." Alter called softly, almost like speaking to himself.
The girl turned. Seeing her face, Alter's pupils widened. The chubby-cheeked girl had become a beautiful young woman. And those eyes still held the same irresistible charm. Before he could say more, her gentle voice came.
"This garden is lovely, Prince," she said with a sweet smile.
"I ... I made it for you."
"Thank you, you're very thoughtful." Now they were less than a meter apart.
"Next month, we'll be married," Inessa added.
"Yes, next month." Alter cleared his throat, trying to steady his pounding heart. He struggled not to blurt out the words he had longed to say since the day they met.
"Prince, may I ask one thing?"
"Yes, go ahead."
"After our wedding, please don't hide your blushing face anymore. I want to see it ..." Again, Inessa smiled.
All Alter could offer was an awkward nod. Then silence. They only heard the rustle of wind and the pounding of their own hearts. Inessa lowered her gaze to where their hands nearly touched. She wanted to hold his.
Alter wished the same. But the young man held back. Waiting for the right moment after their sacred union.
'I love you, Inessa...' For now, those words remained locked in his heart.
But Alter never got to say them. Even in her final moments, the universe never gave him the chance to speak. Alter felt like a fool. A complete fool. And nothing could be done.
Tears once again wet his cheeks as guilt surged in his chest. He still held the urn tightly when a voice whispered from the darkness, slipping in with the night wind. "Jump, Prince ... go to your soulmate..."
Alter did not react. He only closed his eyes. Clutched the last of the ashes that had not yet been scattered. He did not know whose voice it was. But the voice knew everything.
This world was too silent without her. Too empty without Inessa.
One step forward. Then two. Then three.
Alter jumped without hesitation. The wind tore at his clothes, howling like a beast denied. Yet deep in the abyss, a sliver of white light flickered—a door shaped like a burning book, waiting. He closed his eyes, clutching the last ashes. Death or Inessa? He'd soon know.
**