Age: Elira – 6 years old, Kael – 3 years old
Three years had passed since the night Kael was born. The western wing, once a quiet, lonely place, had become their secret world. The siblings had adapted to life in the palace, invisible to almost everyone.
Elira had grown stronger, not just in body but in mind. She had learned to control her energy subtly, helping Kael recover from minor illnesses or calming him when he became frustrated. Their small routines—meals, games, quiet exercises—had become habits.
Kael had grown too, learning patience and kindness under Elira's guidance. He could now fold his blanket, share toys, and even help Elira in small ways, like carrying a book or tidying their little corner of the room.
Some days were harder than others. Nobles and servants ignored them, and sometimes Kael would cry from the sting of neglect. But Elira had learned to shield him, both emotionally and magically, and he always calmed quickly under her care.
At night, when the palace fell silent, they would sit by the window and talk quietly. Elira would tell Kael stories, teaching him right from wrong, patience, and courage. Their bond had grown unbreakable.
But even with their small victories, Elira could not forget the Empress' choices. She remembered the dream, the secret love, and the knowledge that someone else had been hurt because of her mother's restraint.
"She loved me," Elira whispered to herself one evening as Kael slept beside her. "But she was wrong. I cannot forgive her for what she did to them… even if it wasn't me."
Her small hands clenched into fists. She understood, even at six, that love alone could not protect them from the cruelty of the empire. She could not rely on anyone else—not the Empress, not the court, not fate. Only she could protect Kael.
Elira looked at her little brother, his dark eyes closed in sleep, and made a silent vow:
She would continue teaching him kindness and morality, preparing him for a world that might never accept him.
She would continue her secret training, developing her power quietly and carefully.
And she would survive, no matter the obstacles, so that they could one day choose their own destiny.
The western wing, once lonely, now held the quiet strength of two children who had learned to rely on each other. They were small, invisible, and powerless in the eyes of the empire—but together, they were beginning to shape a future of their own making.
And though the Empress' love remained a complicated, painful memory, Elira had found her own source of strength: the unbreakable bond with her brother, and the knowledge that they would face the world on their own terms.