The royal hall was quiet, its marble floors gleaming under the soft glow of lanterns. Elara stood at the threshold, her scholarship letter clutched in one hand, her heart pounding like a war drum.
She had requested a private audience with King Alaric. Not as a daughter seeking affection, but as a young woman demanding truth.
Alaric sat on the throne, older now, wearier. His crown seemed heavier than ever. When he saw Elara, he smiled—but she did not return it.
"You summoned me," he said gently.
"I did," Elara replied. "I need to know why."
Alaric's brow furrowed. "Why what?"
"Why you let her go. Why you let them exile my mother."
The words hung in the air like smoke. Alaric's fingers tightened around the armrest.
"Elara…"
"She built this kingdom with you. She gave you vision, strength, and me. And you let them cast her out like she was nothing."
Alaric rose slowly. "It wasn't that simple."
"It was," Elara said, voice trembling. "You chose silence. You chose tradition. You chose fear."
Alaric stepped forward, his eyes glistening. "I was a king bound by law. By legacy. I thought I could protect you both by keeping the peace."
"You didn't protect us," Elara said. "You abandoned us."
The silence between them was deafening.
"I met her," Elara continued. "Every week. She taught me everything. She never stopped believing in me—even when you did."
Alaric's face crumpled. "I never stopped believing in you."
"Then why did you let them say I wasn't an heir? Why did you let them say she was a mistake?"
Alaric sank back into the throne, defeated. "Because I was weak. Because I thought love alone could change the court. I was wrong."
Elara stepped forward, her voice steady now. "I'm going to Columbia. I'm going to build what she dreamed of. And when I do, I won't need a crown to prove my worth."
Alaric looked at her, truly looked at her—for the first time not as a child, but as the woman Ana had raised.
"You are your mother's fire," he whispered.
Elara nodded. "And I will burn down every wall that kept her from her rightful place."
She turned and walked away, the letter still in her hand, her footsteps echoing like a drumbeat of change.
Alaric remained seated, staring at the empty hall, haunted by the daughter who had become everything he had hoped for—and everything he had failed to protect.