True to her vow, Starfania gave her father space, speaking to him only when training demanded it. Their mornings began at the crack of dawn, the clash of wooden blades echoing through the courtyard. Cesar's lessons were strict, his tone sharp, yet Starfania carried herself differently now. Each strike of her blade was not just for him, but for herself–for her own growth, her own strength. After training, she shed the weight of her father's expectations and stepped into another life: the schoolyard. There, she found comfort in Aeron's steady presence and, more surprisingly, in Daniel's warm smile.
She unlocked herself, laughing at Aeron's jokes, blushing at Daniel's compliments. Those stolen moments reminded much more than a pawn in her father's plans—she was a girl with dreams, friendship, and a heart of her own. Yet her truest solace came when she and Aeron slipped away to the hidden cavern. Beneath the shimmering crystals and the watchful gaze of Bone, she felt whole. The dragon's rumbling breaths carried echoes of her mother's love, a reminder that even in loss, she was never entirely alone. With Bone, she wasn't a princess, or a student, or even her father's daughter–she was simply Starfania.
And so most days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months. A fragile balance settled over her life: discipline with her father, freedom with her friends, peace with Bone. For the first time since her mother's death, she felt as if she were charting her own course. But fate is rarely merciful. One morning, beneath a tempestuous sky, she dressed for the day as usual, unaware that Avalon was about to tilt beneath her feet. A shiver ran down her spine as she entered the kitchen—an omen that her fragile routine was about to shatter. Starfania settled into her chair as the chef set down a simple breakfast.
She picked at it in silence until Ms. Ren slipped gracefully into the seat beside her. For a moment, they sat wordless, the clatter of pans in the kitchen filling the space. Then Ren's gentle voice cut through. " How are you holding up, child?"
The unexpected question stirred something in Starfania's chest. She hesitated, torn between hiding behind her food and answering honestly. Finally, she set down her fork. " If I'm being honest, it's been…quieter. Peaceful, maybe. But I miss talking to him. Even if it was just orders about how to lead, at least it kept us connected."
Ren's eyes softened. She nodded knowingly; her smile warm but tinged with sorrow. " Life is full of contradictions. Sometimes silence feels like peace; sometimes, it feels like loss. The trick is learning which one you're sitting in."
Starfania managed a small child before taking another bite. Still, her mind spun, and curiosity finally slipped past her lips. " What's the most valuable lesson you've ever learned?"
Ren's expression brightened, almost luminous. " That life is impermanent, and change is unavoidable."
The word stuck to Starfania with quiet weight. As she asked softly. " Why that lesson?"
Ren folded her hands, her gaze distant. " Because your mother once told me so. She believed every chapter—no matter how painful—was meant to be read, not skipped. I almost left this place once, but I couldn't bear to miss the ending of the story still unfolding."
Starfania's breath caught. She leaned in. " You knew my mother?"
Ren nodded, her smile bittersweet. " I did. And Starfania…she was radiant. She'd be so proud of you. Of your heart, your courage, your stubbornness. All of it."
For the first time that morning, Starfania felt warmth bloom in her chest. Yet even as Ren's words wrapped around her like a blanket, a strange shiver ran down her spine—one she couldn't explain.