The Festival of Skyfire arrived like the dawn after endless storms.
It had once marked the unity of the twin suns. Now, it was reborn to celebrate something brighter—the coming of an heir, the child of the beloved Crown Prince and his healer queen.
For one day, the kingdom above the clouds sparkled with joy.
Banners of gold and pearl rippled from the towers. Fire-dancers spiraled through the palace square. Skybeasts wove glowing trails across the horizon.
And in the center of it all stood Elara, radiant in soft cream silks, a delicate circlet resting on her forehead, her pregnancy barely visible but deeply honored.
Beside her stood Auren, every inch the golden prince—his smile charming, his hand never far from hers. His other hand never strayed from the hilt of his sword.
Behind them, a silent shadow lingered.
Kael.
Clad in midnight armor, his gaze never left the crowd—not even for her.
But he could feel her presence like a heat behind his ribs.
---
The Toast
"Let us raise our glasses," Auren called from the marble dais, his voice rich with pride, "to the future of Aetheria. May my son or daughter carry not only the Light of the Skies—but the strength of those who protect it."
Cheers roared.
Music swelled.
Dancers twirled in a blur of silver flame.
And in the crowd, someone moved wrong.
Kael saw it before anyone else.
A flicker of a blade beneath ceremonial robes. A movement toward the dais. Toward her.
Everything slowed.
Kael didn't think—he ran.
In a blur of motion, he shoved past startled guards, vaulted over the dais stairs just as the attacker lunged upward, dagger aimed directly at Elara's abdomen.
The crowd screamed.
Kael threw himself between the blade and Elara—his body the shield.
The dagger sliced deep into his side.
Elara gasped, stumbling back into Auren's arms.
Kael gritted his teeth and ripped the blade from the would-be assassin's hand before hurling the attacker off the dais with one brutal strike.
Guards surged forward.
Blood bloomed through Kael's shirt as he dropped to one knee.
---
Aftermath
The attacker was restrained. The crowd stunned. The music silenced.
Elara dropped beside Kael, pressing her hands to his side, desperate, shaking. "Why would you—why do you keep doing this?"
Kael looked at her, breath ragged.
And in that moment, his mask cracked.
"I can't stop."
Auren was there in an instant, crouching beside them, his hand over hers, pressing against the wound. His voice was low, urgent. "You're going to be fine, Kael. You're not allowed to die. Not yet."
Kael didn't answer. He only looked at Elara.
And for the first time—
The whole court saw it.
The way he looked at her.
Not like a general to his queen.
But like a man to the one thing he could never have.
---
Later That Night
The whispers began.
"Did you see the way he protected her?"
"He bled for her."
"The general… he's in love with the crown princess."
---
In Auren's Chambers
Auren sat alone in the dark, a glass of stormwine untouched at his side.
He had seen the look in Kael's eyes. The one he'd ignored for months. The one he now couldn't unsee.
And yet… Kael had thrown himself into a blade to protect her. Again.
He whispered into the dark:
"… why does it always have to hurt when you love too much?"
---