The chamber smelled sharply of medicine and iron.
Hours had passed—long, merciless hours where time seemed to stretch until breathing itself felt heavy. Outside, the lanterns had been replaced twice. Servants knelt along the corridor, heads lowered, afraid even to whisper.
At last, the doors opened.
The healer stepped out first, his robes stained, his shoulders sagging with exhaustion. He bowed deeply to the Emperor and the Empress.
"Her Highness… has been saved," he said quietly.
The Empress felt her knees weaken for a brief moment before she steadied herself. "And the child?"
The healer closed his eyes.
"It was a boy," he said. "He did not survive."
The words landed softly, yet they shattered everything.
