The heavy velvet doors of the ceremonial hall parted, and silence swept through the crowd.
Nernia stepped forward, adorned in deep ocean-blue silk that clung to her figure like the tide to the shore. The flowing cape attached to her shoulders rippled behind her like waves in motion. A tiara crafted from coral, pearls, and starfire stones shimmered atop her silver hair, and her presence silenced even the whispers of the sea. She had always been ethereal, but now—after the war, the sacrifice, and the bond she and Kaelen had nearly broken—she walked not as a girl hidden in prophecy but as a queen rising from it.
Kaelen stood by the thrones, his jaw tightening the moment he saw her. She looked radiant. Alive. Powerful. But something about her smile was different—gentler, tinged with a weight he couldn't lift from her shoulders.
Every noble, ambassador, and warrior in the realm bowed their heads as she ascended the steps to stand beside Kaelen.
"You look... like the ocean claimed you and made you its queen," Kaelen murmured, almost breathless.
She didn't look at him. "Maybe it did."
There was pain in her voice, but also strength. Kaelen wanted to reach for her hand, to whisper apologies and pull her away from all the pomp and scrutiny, but he remained still. As agreed.
Today was about reclaiming the throne, about asserting unity, not stirring old wounds.
The High Oracle stepped forward, raising her staff. "With the realm watching and fate waiting, the two guardians of sea and prophecy shall lead us into the next age—together."
Cheers erupted. Trumpets blared. Banners unfurled.
But amidst all the celebration, Kaelen leaned slightly closer and whispered, "Do you remember... what I once told you?"
Nernia turned slowly, her gaze meeting his for the first time that day. Her voice was steady, but barely audible.
"You said... 'What if I make you mine?'"
Kaelen froze. The memory echoed between them like thunder in calm waters.
"I remember everything, Kaelen," she whispered, the pain flickering behind her calm expression. "Even when I try to forget."
He wanted to pull her into his arms then and there, wanted to beg her to never forget again.
But duty loomed.
Their hands brushed once beneath the folds of silk and armor—fleeting, hidden, electric.
And across the crowd, an old enemy watched from the shadows, cloaked in salt and vengeance.
The calm was over.
The storm was only beginning.