Later that night, the palace was quiet. The victory had been won, but Sharath's boots were still dusty. He stood at the window, watching torches flicker in the workers' quarters.
Elina entered, a small oil lamp in her hand. She set it on the desk and took his hand.
"You saw the kingdom for what it was," she said softly. "And now you've made us see it too."
Sharath nodded. His voice was quiet.
"Stone will pave the roads. But compassion must carry us forward."
Behind them, the lamp glowed—not as ornament, but as oath.