My mother's garden hadn't changed, Not really, not in the two years she has been gone. The blossoms still swayed with the same lazy grace, perfuming the air with lavender and night-rose. The marble bench under the paleheart tree was where I used to fall asleep in my father's lap. I remembered his laughter, warm and deep, echoing through the petals like wind through chimes and my mother's loving eyes as she laughed watching my father and I sing together, laugh together.
But now?
Now everything smelled like rot beneath perfume.
I sat with my back hunched , I ran my fingers through the violet moss that carpeted the base of my mother's statue. Her wings were carved open wide, frozen in flight, her eyes lifted toward the sky like she saw something divine. She never looked that way in life. She looked at us, at me with tender loving eyes.
I closed my eyes, swallowing the lump in my throat.
"I don't recognize him anymore," I murmured. "It's like he's been replaced by a shell."
"You've always been too dramatic."
My eyes snapped open, I turned around and saw my sister Maravine standing behind me. Her voice Smooth like glass, polished and shrill.
She stepped into the garden like she belonged here more than I ever had, her gown gleaming with woven moonthread, her wings tucked neatly behind her, every strand of her silver-gold hair curled into its proper place. She didn't walk, she glided like a queen would.
"What do you want, Maravine?" I asked, rising to my feet.
"calm down fiesty little sis, I am just here to talk," she said, examining the statue. "To see if you're still sulking like a child."
"I'm grieving. There's a difference."
"It's been two years."
I stared at her. "That's all the time you give the woman who gave you life?"
Her mouth twitched, not a smile, Just a shift.
"Life moves on," she said. "Father is marrying again. It's time we start acting like royal daughters instead of... rebellious thorns."
I folded my arms. "Rebellious thorns don't wear crowns."
She looked at me then. Really looked. "Which is why you should reconsider your... posture. Lords won't entertain a pixie who scowls at court, fights illusions in the forest, and insults nobles with every breath."
"I'm not a prize to be displayed," I said. "I am not a crown to be placed where it pleases others."
Maravine's expression tightened. "There's duty in sacrifice. You think I want to marry the Lord of the Mer Realm? He smells like damp leather and speaks in seaweed riddles."
"Then say no."
"I can't."
"Exactly." I stepped past her, voice colder. "And I won't live in that prison."
"You're already in a prison, Evangeline," she said quietly. "One of your own making."
I stopped but I didn't turn around.
She left shortly after her wings brushing a low-hanging branch. And I remained in the garden.
The garden seemed quieter without her. Sadder, maybe.
But peace never lasted long in the palace anymore, trouble loomed in every corner.
I was jolted from my thought by the giggling and noise coming from the women harem in the palace, they must be preparing for the wedding. I knew I had to be in attendance, I stood up giving one last glance to the garden before flying out to the women harem.
The royal harem glittered with silks, perfume smoke, and the soft hum of harp strings. Princesses, courtiers, my father's fifthy concubines and their maidens and noble daughters bustled like bees preparing a hive, busying themselves with the wedding arrangements for Maravine's union.
I sat in the corner on a plush pillow, out of place in my plain day-robe, my duskfire wings half-folded like I was preparing to flee. I didn't speak. Didn't smile, I didn't even look up when the seamstresses asked me if I preferred moonlace or dawnfeather for my nonexistent future gown.
"You'll catch dust in your frown," muttered one of the elder pixie matrons as she floated past.
I ignored her.
Across the room, Maravine laughed, her laughter sounding so practiced and hollow.
I stared at the painted wall with depictions of past queens, wings open in proud poses, their eyes all watching. Judging.
What would Mother think if she could see me now? Hiding in the corner while her garden wilted under another woman's rule?
"Princess Evangeline," came a low voice.
I looked up.
Jade.
My brother's presence was like a cold breeze through the warm haze of the harem. Everyone quieted as he walked in, tall and gold-armored, the air shifting with his every step. But there was something off.
He looked... tired. Pale. Not from sleepless nights, but from something deeper. Like his spirit had thinned.
"Come," he said. "We need to speak."
I stood up and followed him out reluctantly, happy to have to escape all the glitter and glamour, I was more of a swords and steel lady.
He led me through the eastern corridor, away from the others into the hall with mirrored walls where we used to play chase when we were children.
The moment we were alone, I rounded on him.
"If you've come to scold me too, don't waste your breath."
His eyes flickered. "I'm not here to scold."
I tilted my head. "Then what?"
He hesitated. That's when I saw it.
The mark.
On the side of his neck, pulsing faintly under his collar.
A glowing handprint.
Morgana.
My breath caught. "What did she do to you?"
He blinked. "What are you talking about?"
"Your neck, Jade. That mark. That's her. Isn't it?"
He touched the spot as if noticing it for the first time. "It's nothing. Just a fever wound. I will have the healers look at it"
"Don't lie to me!" I stepped forward, voice trembling. "She's manipulating you. You used to see through things like this. You used to protect me from...."
"I'm still protecting you!" he snapped. "And the realm!"
I recoiled.
His eyes darted away. Then he sighed.
"I'm stepping down," he said. "I've already spoken with Father. I will no longer be heir to the throne."
The words didn't land.
"What?" I whispered.
"For peace," he continued. "For the good of the realm. The court is too fractured. I only bring more fire."
"You're the only fire left!"
He shook his head. "It's better this way."
"No. No, it isn't."
His hands trembled slightly as he adjusted his blade in its sheath . "She's... powerful, Evangeline. More than we know. Father ....he isn't himself. But if we fight her openly, we'll lose. I need time to find another way."
"You're stepping down," I said, hollow. "And you're calling that a plan?"
He didn't answer.
And in that silence, everything cracked.
The halls of Aetherion echoed with the distant sounds of wedding bells being tuned, of alliances shifting like sand, of power slipping through the hands of those who once held it tight.
My brother who is the only one who might've stood between Morgana and the throne was fading, defeated.
And I was running out of allies.
Running out of time.
As I watched Jade walk away, I made a silent vow.
If no one else would fight for this realm, for the memory of our mother, for what was right, I would, and I must.
Even if it meant becoming the very thing they feared.
Even if it meant war.
And deep inside me, the spark of duskfire flared again.
This time, I didn't smother it.