In the golden light of morning, a young lady stood in the royal gardens, a vision of quiet power. She was adorned in fine silk, threads of gold dancing in the breeze. Her skin was as fair as dawn, her presence both gentle and commanding.
She bent low, her delicate fingers brushing over a white rose, its petals soft as clouds. With a small pair of shears, she trimmed it carefully, then traced its edge with her fingertip slow, reverent.
A maid approached, breathless.
"Your Ladyship, let me—"
But the lady only smiled sweetly and shook her head.
"The white rose… so delicate," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.
"Do you know its tale? It only blooms in fair weather. So fragile, yet a symbol of majesty… reminds me of a maiden untouched, yet bold — thriving in silence, ruling with grace."
The maid listened, spellbound. Though young, the lady's eyes carried the weight of lifetimes — of queens before her and perhaps, more to come
Before the tale could linger, a guard rushed forward, armor clinking as he knelt.
"Your Ladyship,* he said quickly. "News from Shem. They've rejected the alliance. Their message: They'd rather be foes than pigs under a vicious ruler."
Her fingers froze mid-caress. The breeze stilled. The warmth of the morning seemed to vanish.
Her voice dropped.
"Those fools… I offer them peace. And they spit on my kindness?"
With one swift motion, her hand closed around the rose crushing it to dust, thorns and all. But not a drop of blood. Not from a mage.
The guard flinched.
She turned her cold gaze on him.
"Throw the fool who brought this message into the dungeons."
The man's heart sank.
He bowed low, silently praying this wasn't his end.
But she had already turned away — plucking another rose, as if nothing had happened
***
At the first light of dawn, the men rode out , their stallions steady beneath them, the air crisp with silence. Tiny glow worms were fastened to the reins, their faint light flickering like stars at the edge of day.
Tension crackled as they approached the brook the narrow, winding stream that marked the border between two ancient powers: Hivities and Hittites. Though no swords were drawn, history still bled between the stones.
Sapphire rode among them, quiet and distant. Her thoughts drifted, reaching for fragments of a passage she'd once read — about a time when these lands were united… before the war… before the loss.
"Are you alright, milady?" Asahel's voice broke into her thoughts. His brow creased with concern as he looked back at her.
She blinked, then offered a faint smile.
"I will live."
He was the only one who ever truly asked. The only one who seemed to notice.
As the horses pressed forward, Asahel reached back, steadying her reins slightly.
"Hold on. We're almost there."
Ahead, the Lord rode at the front, tall and unreadable, his eyes fixed on the hills beyond. Home was near — and with it, whatever waited behind the stone walls.
"At last!" Sapphire muttered under her breath as she saw Hivitie
It stood high above the valley, carved into the bones of the mountain , a city on a hill ancient and unmoved, like it had been there before time began. Stone walls rose in layered rings, each tier tighter, stronger, more fortified than the last. Towers pierced the sky like spears aimed at the heavens.
From a distance, the city shimmered — golden roofs catching the sun, smoke trailing softly from flues, banners fluttering in the crisp wind.
Its gates were carved from blackwood reinforced with steel, guarded by men whose faces had long forgotten smiles.
its tall watchtowers rising like silent sentinels against the morning mist. Each tower was manned day and night, their narrow slits revealing only the glint of watchful eyes
To reach the city, one had to cross a narrow stone bridge, no wider than two men side by side. It stretched over a deep ravine where black waters rushed below like a warning.
Sapphire's heart pounded as she watched the line of warriors cross the suspension bridge narrow, swaying with every hoofbeat, ropes creaking under the weight of trained stallions.
The bridge groaned again, and her mule pawed nervously at the Earth as she swallowed hard.
"Move!" barked an irritated soldier ahead.
But her limbs refused to respond.
"Scared?" Lord Typhon's voice came from behind —smooth, cold, mocking.
He was already beside her, sizing her up with those unreadable eyes.
"Of course not," she snapped, trying to hide the tremble in her voice. "Not when I have you by my side… my Lord."
The smile she forced barely touched her eyes.
"Daft woman," he muttered with a scoff.
Before she could blink, his arm swept around her waist, lifting her like she weighed nothing.
"What are you—" she gasped, but it was too late.
In one swift motion, he threw her onto his stallion, right in front of him.
"Idiot!" she hissed to herself, cheeks burning as she steadied herself. Her back pressed against his chest , solid and warm ,his breath brushing her ear. He smelled of leather, steel, and something darker… unplaceable .She dared not look back.
Not now.
Not with his arm resting casually across her waist, holding the reins like she was nothing more than a passenger
They began to cross the bridge.
It swayed under their weight, and the wind howled like a warning, but Typhon didn't flinch. His grip was steady, his presence grounding.
And though Sapphire hated it…
Part of her, buried deep beneath pride and fear,
felt safe.