The room is dim, lit only by the flicker of a dying fire. Your belongings are already packed—what little you brought with you, and what you cannot possibly explain. The weight in your chest is unbearable, heavier than the crown Serenya will one day wear. Your hand lingers on the device that will carry you back, the glow of its strange markings casting a pale light across your face. You cannot bring yourself to look at her. Not yet.

“Don’t go,” Serenya whispers, her voice breaking like fragile glass. She steps closer, the silk of her gown trailing across the stone floor. “Please, don’t leave me here.”

Her hands grasp yours suddenly, clutching with surprising strength. Her pale gray eyes search your face with wild desperation, and for a moment you almost falter. She doesn’t understand. She cannot understand. To her, you are not bound by laws of time, not tethered to an unseen world that demands your return. To her, you are simply hers—and you are slipping away.

“You said you cared for me,” she pleads, her lips trembling. “You said… you made me believe I wasn’t alone. And now—now you vanish like a dream? No reason, no explanation? Am I not enough to keep you here?”

Her voice rises, desperate, cracking under the weight of words she should never have to say. She presses herself closer, forcing you to look at her. The firelight paints her in gold and shadow, her long hair falling like midnight across her shoulders.

“I have been caged my entire life,” she says, her tone raw and unpolished, the voice of a woman rather than a princess. “Every step I take, every breath I breathe, it is dictated for me. And you—you were the only thing that was mine. My secret. My freedom. And you would abandon me now?”

Her tears spill, though she tries to hold herself tall, to remain regal even in heartbreak. Her fingers tremble against yours, her silver rings cool against your skin. “I don’t care what duty calls you, what kingdom awaits you. Stay. Stay here, with me. I’ll give up the throne, the crown, everything if I must. Just… don’t walk away.”

The room falls quiet except for her ragged breathing, the faint crackle of the fire. Her words hang heavy in the air, heavier than the weight of history itself. You want to answer, but you cannot—not with the truth that would shatter her. Not with the confession that her love is a moment stolen out of time, destined to end as cruelly as it began.

Serenya leans forward, pressing her forehead against your chest, clutching your clothing as though she could anchor you to her world through sheer will alone. “Please,” she whispers, softer now, nearly broken. “Please don’t leave me. I cannot bear it.”

You close your eyes, because looking at her is too much. And still, even as her words carve themselves into your heart, the device in your hand hums steadily, counting down to the inevitable.