"Mother," young Zuleika called, her voice curious and sweet. The blindfold still covered her eyes, but her ears never missed a detail.
"Yes?" Elisha answered warmly.
"Who were those guests at Stel's birthday… I think she has a light pink hair color…" Zuleika tilted her head, a cookie in her small hand.
"A light pink one? Hmm…" her mother mused thoughtfully.
"Oh, and she had an adult with her! I think her mother's hair was light blue."
Elisha smiled, though Zuleika couldn't see it. "Ah, then you must mean Empress Athena and her daughter."
"Empress?" Zuleika perked up, nibbling on her cookie. "From which Empire?"
"The Feltogora Empire," Elisha replied calmly.
"Eh? That cruel Empire that keeps bugging us?" Zuleika frowned, puffing her cheeks a little.
Elisha chuckled softly, amused by her daughter's indignation. "Yes, that Empire."
Zuleika fell silent then, munching quietly. But her thoughts ran on.
So she's a princess… from Feltogora Empire…
Her brows furrowed. That should have been enough to make her dislike the girl. And yet—
But… she doesn't look bad. And she was kind… even though she had such a rude way of showing it.
Zuleika's lips curved into a smile at the memory of the princess patting her head so awkwardly.
"Then, Mother…" she spoke again suddenly.
Elisha glanced at her. "Yes?"
"What is the princess's name?"
Her mother paused, recalling, then answered gently, "I think it's Aquila."
Zuleika repeated it carefully, tasting the name in her mouth. "Aquila…" Then she giggled to herself, as if the sound alone delighted her.
Elisha tilted her head at her daughter's quiet laughter, then added with a knowing softness, "She's two years younger than you, Lei."
"Mhm…" Zuleika hummed happily, hugging her cookie plate as if it were a treasure.
Half a year had already passed, and at last, young Zuleika's powers had quieted enough to grant her freedom. For the first time in months, she was allowed to remove the blindfold.
With trembling fingers, she slid the fabric away, blinking rapidly as the world spilled into her vision once again.
"Ackk, I miss this view!" she exclaimed with a playful grin. The warm glow of the setting sun bathed the horizon, its light scattering across the rolling ocean.
For a long while she simply stood there on her balcony, crimson eyes wide and bright, drinking it all in as though afraid it might be taken away again.
Then, unbidden, a memory surfaced—soft and stubborn all at once.
'If you were ever allowed to take your blindfold off, then you should find me.'
The words rang clear, spoken months ago by a certain princess.
Zuleika pressed a hand over her lips, a giggle spilling out despite herself. "Pfft—" She tried to stifle it, but the laugh stayed, warm and lingering in her chest.
"I wonder how she is…" she murmured, her eyes gleaming like the sea beneath the sunset.
She leaned forward against the balcony railing, letting the wind tousle her hair.
"I'm sorry, Princess… I won't be able to reach out to you." Her tone softened into a half-whisper, carrying an odd maturity for her age.
Her lips curved into a faint smile as she added wryly, "Since your Empire is still bugging my kingdom…"
The chuckle that followed was light, but her gaze drifted far, searching the horizon as though it could carry her thoughts across borders.
"But…" Her voice lowered, the laughter fading into something quieter. "I wonder if you still remember me?"
The sea breeze swept past her, but no answer came—only the crash of waves below, and the echo of a promise too fragile for two children to keep.
Two years had passed. The world felt heavier, darker—and the news that spread across Empires and Kingdoms only deepened the shadow.
The Empress of Feltogora was dead.
Zuleika had just finished her training. Sweat clung to her temples, dripping down her neck as she slid her sword back into its sheath with practiced ease. She wiped her brow with a towel, her chest rising and falling steadily, the rhythm of discipline.
From the other side of the yard, she caught the murmur of knights, their voices hushed yet sharp enough to carry.
"Have you heard? The Empress of Feltogora died…"
"Yeah… some say she was killed."
"Such a shame. I liked her, despite the Empire she came from."
"Right? Even though cruelty runs in Revazkerio blood, she was kind. She treated everyone equally."
"I wonder if she ever regretted marrying that Emperor…"
Zuleika's steps slowed. She said nothing, didn't interrupt their gossip, but each word pierced deeper than the next. Sixteen now, her figure was taller, her stance steadier, her blade sharper—but her heart wavered.
She adjusted the sword at her waist and walked past the murmurs, lips pressed tightly together. Yet her thoughts betrayed her composure.
The Empress died…
Her chest tightened, a heaviness she couldn't name swelling within. The towel in her hand hung limply at her side as she tilted her face toward the sky, the blue vast and cloudless—mocking her restlessness.
"I wonder how is she…" she whispered, the image of the princess flashing in her mind. Aquila's small hand patting her head, her blunt way of showing kindness, her stubborn spark.
"She's still so young," Zuleika murmured, her crimson eyes clouded with worry. "I hope she'll be fine…"
But the hope felt thin, frail against the tide of news that followed.
Because after the Empress's death, the cruelty of Feltogora only grew. Violence bled into the streets, commoners were trampled under the boots of soldiers, and conquest became the Emperor's obsession. One kingdom after another fell to Feltogora's hunger.
And though Zuleika tried to steel her heart, she couldn't stop it from aching. Because somewhere within that blood-stained empire… was the girl she still thought of.
Zuleika's coming of age ceremony should have been a day of nothing but joy. And yet, when word reached Nexus that a Revazkerio delegation would attend—alongside the Emperor of Feltogora himself—the celebration turned heavy in her chest.
The thought of that cunning, cold-blooded man stepping foot in her kingdom soured her. But despite her distaste, a quiet thread of anticipation wound itself into her heart. For years, she had waited for this moment. At last, she would see Princess Aquila again.
This time, she would not be the blindfolded child who cried so easily. No—she would stand before her as Zuleika, Princess of Nexus.
She giggled to herself whenever the thought surfaced, cheeks flushing with both excitement and nerves.
And then the day arrived.
The vows were spoken, the ceremony grand and radiant. Nobles and dignitaries filled the Coral Palace, offering their congratulations in waves that nearly drowned her. Smiling faces, sweet words, sly proposals for marriage alliances—all of it washed over her. Zuleika responded politely, declining as gracefully as she could. But through it all, her crimson eyes searched.
She scanned every crowd, every hall, every corner. For a flash of familiar hair. For the voice she once remembered. For the girl she had carried in her memory for four long years.
But Aquila was nowhere to be found.
By the time the feast dragged on, exhaustion weighed heavily on her. Her cheeks ached from practiced smiles, her ears rang with hollow praise. At last, she slipped away, escaping into the night air beyond the Coral Palace.
The cold breeze kissed her skin, grounding her. She tilted her head back, gazing at the endless night sky—stars glittering like a tapestry woven by the gods themselves. She exhaled, her heart easing for the first time all day.
And then—
A faint sound. Movement.
Her body turned instinctively, and her breath caught.
There, sitting on a stone bench beneath the starlight, was the very person she had searched for. Her light purple hair glowing faintly under the moon's glow, silver eyes turned upward as if chasing constellations.
Her heart leapt. A smile tugged at her lips before she even realized. Excitement rushed through her veins, only to twist quickly into nervousness.
Ah… how do I approach her? Do I just call out? Should I walk over? What if I… trip over my words? Ugh—
Her palms felt clammy, her lips pressed together in a trembling line. Four years had passed since that fleeting bond, and now Aquila was no longer a child. She was taller, poised, the outlines of a grown princess shaping her.
But when Aquila finally moved—when she rose from the bench and turned—Zuleika froze.
Their eyes met.
And in that single look, her heart dropped.
Because the Aquila standing before her was not the girl she remembered. The radiance, the warmth, the spark—gone. In its place were eyes as hollow as the void between stars. A face carved in stone. A presence so cold it made Zuleika's breath catch.
She parted her lips, desperate to say something, anything, but her throat locked. Her hands twitched at her sides, fighting to break through the weight of silence.
Aquila walked toward her—not stopping, not slowing—her gaze sliding over Zuleika as though she were nothing more than an insect in her path.
And when she passed, Zuleika's chest screamed in protest. The word tumbled out before she could stop it.
"Uh—"
She winced instantly. What do you mean, uh?! Gods, I can't even… Her nerves tangled and choked her.
But Aquila halted.
Her head turned, her brows furrowed ever so slightly, irritation flashing across her perfect mask.
"What?" Her voice cut through the night. Cold. Clipped. Broken.
Zuleika's eyes softened. The sound was nothing like the cheerful, blunt warmth she remembered. This voice had been sharpened into steel. It was survival disguised as cruelty.
Was it so hard for you? Zuleika thought, her heart twisting.
That you had to strip yourself bare, shed everything you once were, just to endure? Was it painful?
Her lips trembled. So many things fought to spill out—Do you remember me? How have you been? You're still beautiful, even more than before…—but fear caged her. Fear that Aquila would not remember her at all.
At last, she forced a small, formal smile, bowing her head gracefully.
"Nothing, Your Imperial Highness. I apologize. I must have mistaken you for someone else."
For the briefest second, Aquila's eyes twitched. Something fragile cracked beneath her mask, but only for an instant. And then she turned, curt and cold, offering no bow in return.
She walked away without a word, her retreating figure carrying with it the weight of Feltogora's cruelty.
Zuleika's gaze lingered on her until she vanished into the palace shadows. Her chest tightened, but she closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, steadying herself.
"Right," she whispered to herself.
It must have been painful, Aquila. You've endured so much. I'm proud of you, even if you don't remember me… even if you never look back.
Her lips curved into the faintest, saddest smile.
"That is the Princess that I should hate… huh."
—end of vol2—