Night had quietly fallen.
The evening breeze was cool. It swept away the last traces of pretense in the air.
Lyra was seated at the dinner table.
Suddenly, hurried and chaotic footsteps echoed through the halls.
A servant rushed into the garden. His voice was shaking and breathless.
"Your Highness! Your Highness!"
"Lord Sylas! Lord Sylas is back!"
The servant was nearly crying.
"He's alive! He's really alive!"
Clang.
The crystal wine glass slipped from Lyra's hand. It shattered on the marble floor.
She stood up suddenly. Her body trembled.
She didn't care that her dress might get torn by the glass. She grabbed her skirt and ran toward the front door.
Under the moonlight, a tall figure stood silently in the garden.
The cold moonlight fell across his face. Time had left traces on it. He looked older, sharper. But his eyes were still the same.
"Lyra, I'm back."
His voice cut through the seven years between them. It reached her ears clearly.
Lyra's vision blurred.
Tears rushed down her cheeks. She could only see him.
She ran. She used all her strength. She threw herself into his arms.
Sylas Elowen caught her. He wrapped his arms around her tightly.
He had dreamed of this moment for seven years.
The servants had already stepped away. The garden belonged only to them now.
Sylas was a war orphan, adopted by the Elowen family. At nine, his name was officially added to the family line.
He was two years older than Lyra. They grew up together.
They trained side by side. His talent for strategy even surpassed the family's direct heirs.
There had always been a quiet affection between them.
Before anything could be said, war tore them apart.
Seven years ago, the war between Thorne and Storm had reached its peak.
Sylas, along with Elowen's elite, went to the battlefield to earn military merit. But they faced the brutal "Crimson Battle."
Almost all of Elowen's elites died. The crown prince of the western kingdom also fell.
After the battle, Sylas's body was never found.
No one believed he ran. Everyone assumed he had died with honor.
Lyra's tears soaked through Sylas's shirt. She cried for a long time. All the fear, longing, and sorrow from the past seven years poured out.
Eventually, she calmed down. Her red eyes looked up at him.
Lyra took his hand. She led him back to the bright dining room.
"Did you eat?"
Before he could answer, she continued.
"Even if you did, I haven't finished. Eat with me."
"And tell me everything. Where have you been for seven years?"
The composed princess was gone.
She was once again the young girl from seven years ago. Stubborn, warm, a little unreasonable.
Sylas smiled softly.
"I avoided the guards. Climbed over the wall. One of your servants saw me in the garden."
He sat down beside her.
"I was injured during the battle. I passed out. When I woke up, I was a prisoner of war."
"They didn't know I was with the Elowen family. They thought I was a regular soldier. They put me in their army."
"The military was strict. I had no chance to escape."
"I faked my death during a battle. That's how I got away."
He spoke calmly. Like it had happened to someone else. But Lyra knew what that must have cost.
Candlelight danced across their faces.
Sylas wanted to ask about her life. But the words wouldn't come.
He had heard rumors. The royal marriage. The woman Kael brought home.
He didn't know how to ask. He didn't want to hear that Lyra had fallen for Kael Varyn.
Still, a part of him wanted her to curse Kael.
Lyra noticed his hesitation.
She didn't wait.
"I never wanted to marry Kael Varyn."
"He left for war the day we wed. Now he returns with a mistress."
"I will ask my father to cancel the marriage."
She looked at him, eyes burning.
"Now that you're back, there's hope for the Elowen family."
"I want you to restore our name."
Sylas looked down.
He shook his head.
"Maybe I can use the Elowen name in the army. But to restore the family... that's too much."
"The old vassals won't follow me. I was adopted. I don't have the bloodline."
"The Elowens are extinct."
Lyra smiled with confidence.
"Who says the bloodline is gone?"
"There is one survivor."
Sylas understood instantly.
But she was a woman.
In this land, women couldn't inherit titles. And she was a royal. A Thorne.
He said nothing. He just looked at her.
Lyra met his eyes. Her voice was steady.
"I will make the Elowen name echo across this continent again."
Her eyes shone in the candlelight. Her presence filled the room.
Sylas stared at her. His chest tightened.
Joy was quickly replaced by a creeping cold.
If one day she discovered who he really was... would those bright eyes still hold love? Or would they hold a blade?
He hoped that day would never come.
What's the real identity of Sylas?
Will love survive the truth?