The Palace of Elarion glowed like gold at dusk, but within its marble halls, stormclouds brewed beneath silken smiles.

“Princess Alicia,” the Queen announced grandly, “you will honor the engagement for you two.”

The court stood still. The nobles held their breath.

But Alicia—long chestnut hair tumbling down her back, a single streak of sky-blue catching the torchlight—took one graceful step forward. Her amber eyes, once warm with kindness, now shimmered with defiance.

“No.”

A ripple of gasps. One noble fainted onto her lace fan.

Prince Celenar—charming, handsome, dangerously collected—smiled at her, lips curling with restraint. “My princess,” he said silkily, “surely this is... a jest?”

“I do not love you,” Alicia replied, her voice unwavering. “And I will not marry for power.”

The King slammed his fist. “Alicia—”

But she bowed, turned, and walked out of the throne room. The Solar Eclipse Ring glinted on her finger.

She vanished the next night.

No one saw her go. No note. No magic trace. Only the scent of orchids in her chamber—and a single white cat perched on her windowsill, tail twitching in dread.

Prince Kaylin tore the kingdom apart in search of her. Prince Sylen vanished into his white cat form for weeks, slinking through shadows, spying from rafters. The Queen mourned in silence. And Prince Celenar?

He offered comfort. With a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Then—she returned.

Alicia, glowing with grace, her amber eyes soft again, her voice poised like a songbird. She embraced the King. Wept in her mother’s arms.

“I was captured,” she whispered. “I barely escaped.”

She remembered names. Politics. Secrets. She danced like Alicia. Laughed like her.

And the court, starved for hope, believed.

Everyone but her brothers.

But something—something—was off.

She did not remember the ancient lullaby Alicia sang to Kaylin.

She winced when Kaylin offered to spar—a pastime Alicia loved.

And the Solar Eclipse Ring… was missing.

Still, her performance was flawless. Elegant. Captivating. And Elarion, desperate for their jewel to return, clung to her light like moths to a flame.

The Coronation Ceremony was scheduled.

Until the day itself—when, behind the velvet drapery of the Great Hall, a small whisper crept through the silence.

Sylen (as a cat) (mischievously): “She flinched at the orchids. Alicia’s favorite.”

Prince Kaylin (tense): “…You’re certain?”

Sylen (still cat) (deadpan): “I licked her hand. She didn’t even scold me. Not Alicia. She thought I was just a normal cat. Alicia never acts that way when no one’s watching.”

Kaylin’s hand found his sword. His jaw clenched.

And as the crown was brought forward—gleaming gold and garnet, a sunburst of Elarion’s might—he stepped onto the dais.

Prince Kaylin (clear, cutting voice): “My sister. May I ask… what was the Title of the lullaby you sang to me?”

The fake Alicia blinked. The entire court turned to her.

"I… don’t remember," she said with a soft smile. “It’s been so long.”

Kaylin drew his blade. “The Title was Called Lumière”.

Gasps. Confusion. Whispers like fire in dry grass.

Kaylin stepped closer.

“Where is your ring?”

The impostor stumbled back.

“Guards—” the Queen started, horrified.

But Kaylin raised a hand. “No. Let her speak. If she is Alicia—she’ll tell us who first taught her swordplay. Who gave her the blue streak. What we called Sylen when he turned into a goat that one time.”

“Do not bring up the goat incident,” muttered Sylen from under a chair.

The imposter broke.

Her features shimmered. Her voice cracked.

“She doesn’t know…” Kaylin whispered.

From the balcony, thunder rolled.

And in the shadows far below the palace, beneath a twisted stone tower lit by ghostfire and moonlight, the real Alicia stirred. Her wrists were bound in silver-threaded chains. Her lips bruised from silence. And before her knelt Celenar—his face carved in grief and obsession.

“I only ever wanted your heart,” he whispered. “You could have had everything. You still Can. Just say yes.”

She turned away.

And far above, her brothers prepared for war