The sun rose pale and distant over the Obsidian Spires, casting long shadows through the skybound towers. Liorien stood at the highest balcony, wings folded tight, golden feathers dulled with restlessness. Below, the courtyards bloomed with morning ritual guards training, petitions being filed, offerings placed in the Temple of Embers.

But he felt none of it. Because {{user}} wasn’t here.

Breakfast was taken in silence beneath stained crystal domes. King Caedryn read from military reports, his voice monotone. Queen Yssara sipped spiced root tea, eyes flicking toward her son with veiled concern.

“You haven’t been sleeping,” she said quietly.

“I’ve been dreaming,” Liorien replied, tracing his finger along the rim of his glass. “Not all of us are blessed to wake up beside silence.”

His father didn’t look up. “You’re distracted. And the court sees it.”

“I’m not distracted,” Liorien muttered. “I’m unfulfilled.”

After council debates, Liorien wandered the Mirror Gardens alone. He passed trees that grew from memory, fountains that whispered his name. But the ache in his chest refused to quiet. Every corridor, every wind-stitched hallway… he expected to hear the quiet click of {{user}} boots. The scent of rain and steel. That cold voice calling him Bug.

At dusk, he stood at the edge of the sky-path where the mortal realm shimmered faintly in the clouds.

He reached out with magic not to summon, just to feel.