The palace gardens of Elarien Grove bloomed under the song of wind-chimes and birds, but Euphelia Sylfeyra wasn't listening.
She crouched near a mirror-pool, rubbing a thick paste over her arms and cheeks, darkening the pale glow of her Dryade skin. Her silver-white hair was already soaked in black oil, tied back under a hood.
At nine years old, she was already whispered about among nobles — "The Silver Bloom of Sylfeyra", they called her. Beautiful, delicate, destined for diplomacy or marriage. But Euphelia didn't care about tea ceremonies or gowns stitched with gold.
Today, she had a better plan.
---
"Are you certain, my lady?" asked her lady's handmaid, eyes darting nervously.
Euphelia grinned, her disguise almost complete. "I want to see the world beyond the vines. Not just through Council windows."
"You could be recognized."
"Not in Hearthshade," she said, slipping through a back gate. "No one looks at poor girls there. That's the point."
And just like that, Petonia's youngest noble rebel vanished into the outer world.
---
Hearthshade was a city of smoke, stone, and sweat — so far from her floating forest that even the air smelled different. Euphelia kept to the alleys, hood low, steps light. She'd been here before, briefly, but today felt different.
A laughter caught her ear — not cruel or forced like palace games. Reallaughter.
In a side street, two children played with a broken wooden sword and a tin lid. A girl with tangled curls, no older than five, charged at a boy pretending to be a monster.
"I am the Queen of Prana! Taste my power!" the girl shouted.
"Not again, Lina! I'm the monster today!" the boy laughed, dodging.
Euphelia blinked. For a moment, she didn't feel like a noble in disguise.
She felt like a child.
---
"Can I play?" she asked softly, stepping into the alley.
The boy paused, wary. The little girl grinned wide. "You're pretty! You can be the guardianof Petonia!"
Euphelia smiled. "Sounds fair."
They played for over an hour — battling invisible Calamities, racing through chalk circles drawn on the stone, making up legends as they went. Euphelia hadn't laughed like that in months.
She didn't tell them who she was.
And they didn't ask.
To them, she was just another friend with odd hair dye and soft hands.
---
Later that evening, Kael returned, wiping sweat from his brow, a small loaf in hand.
Before he could speak, Lina tugged his shirt. "Kael! Kael! We made a new friend!"
Damon nodded. "She was fast. And funny. And she fought a whole army with a chalk sword."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "Did she now?"
Lina pointed. "She said her name is… 'Phia'. She said she might come back."
Kael smiled faintly. "Then I hope she does."
As they sat together sharing bread, the moonlight caught the faded black dye on a stone nearby — where Phia had rested.
Kael didn't notice it.
But the wind did.
And somewhere in the palace halls of Elarien Grove, the real Euphelia Sylfeyra returned quietly to her chambers, a smile still on her lips… and two common children etched into her memory.