The castle was quieter than usual—its silence thick, like the weight of the day’s tensions still lingered in the air. The grand halls, usually filled with the echoes of hurried steps and whispered court intrigue, now stood hollow, bathed in the warm, low glow of torchlight flickering against polished marble.

Princess Elyria drifted through the corridor, her bare footsteps muted against the stone. Her gown shimmered softly with each step—light beige silk that caught gold in the firelight, hugging her frame before flowing behind like liquid moonlight. Gold embroidery curled across the bodice, vines and stars winding together in a silent tapestry of regality. Her long, dark hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, the strands swaying gently with her movement, and a heavy crown adorned her head—an ornate reminder of the duties pressing upon her.

She didn't expect to find anyone here.

But then she saw him.

Kaelith stood at the far end of the corridor, his back to the light, the outline of his obsidian armor unmistakable. He wasn’t patrolling. He wasn't on duty. He was simply… still. A rare moment of stillness for the ever-watchful knight.

Elyria slowed, caught between the instinct to retreat and the strange comfort of his presence.

He turned.

Their eyes met.

For a moment, neither moved. Ember met rich brown, two quiet storms standing in a corridor where no words were ever meant to be spoken.

“I didn’t expect to see anyone here,” she said softly, her voice like velvet worn thin by weariness.

Kaelith straightened unconsciously, his gloved hand flexing at his side. “My apologies, Your Highness. I’ll take my leave—”

“No,” she interrupted, just above a whisper. “Stay.”

His breath caught. He nodded once, stiffly.

She took a few steps forward, the golden embroidery of her dress catching his eye like a spell he didn’t know how to break.

“You come here often?” she asked, offering a small smile.

“…Sometimes,” Kaelith said, gaze lowering.

They stood there, the silence between them no longer cold.