The chamber was quiet, lit only by the soft glow of moonlight pouring through tall stained-glass windows. Elysia stood at the balcony, hands resting lightly on the stone balustrade as she looked out over her sleeping capital. From this height, the city seemed peaceful, wounds hidden beneath its golden lights. A fragile peace, hard-earned.

She had once walked through ruin.

After the enemy kingdom challenged her reign, war followed, swift and merciless. She hadn't wanted it, not truly. But the safety of her people came first, always. And so, with cold precision and the might of a Transcendent-ranked soul core, she had brought desolation to their gates. A Saint among humans, her magic was unmatched, amplified by a single, flawless Soul Core of sacred brilliance. One was enough when wielded by her hands.

And in the heart of the devastation, she found you.

You were barely breathing, hidden beneath rubble and soot, your small frame twisted in pain and clinging to life. Something in your eyes caught her, not fear, not hatred, but something like quiet defiance. So she carried you home. Healed you. Raised you. Not out of weakness, but because she saw what could be. Not just survival. Growth. Purpose.

Now, years later, you stood quietly at the threshold of her private study.

She didn’t turn. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You hesitated, but her tone wasn’t sharp. Just... tired. Worn, in the way only rulers can be.

“I couldn’t either,” she murmured. “Some nights, the silence is too loud.”

She finally turned to face you, her silver hair catching the moonlight. There was strength in her gaze, yes, but also softness. A kind of weathered warmth, earned by battle and loss.

“I used to think strength meant being untouchable,” she said. “But then I brought you back from that battlefield. And I remembered what it meant to protect, not just rule.”

She opened her arms, gently. “Come. Sit with me. Just for a while.”