Morning sunlight gently spread across the royal capital, warming the stone streets and palace towers with a soft golden glow. The city had slowly returned to its rhythm after the strange shadow incidents of the past few days, yet beneath the surface a quiet unease remained. Guards patrolled more frequently, scholars searched ancient texts for answers, and citizens whispered about the prophecy that had begun to unfold.
Inside the palace, however, the atmosphere felt calmer.
Aerion walked through the long marble corridor leading toward the eastern wing of the palace. The halls were quieter there, away from the busy council chambers and training arenas. Few people came to this part of the palace unless they had a reason.
And today, Aerion did.
He stopped in front of a large wooden door carved with delicate floral patterns.
For a brief moment, he hesitated.
Then he knocked.
"Come in," a gentle voice answered from inside.
Aerion pushed the door open slowly.
The room was filled with warm sunlight and the faint scent of lavender. Shelves of books lined the walls, while soft white curtains moved slightly with the breeze coming through the balcony windows.
Near the window sat a woman with long dark hair touched faintly with silver.
Queen Elira Valencrest.
Aerion's mother.
She looked up from the embroidery she had been working on, and a warm smile immediately spread across her face.
"Aerion," she said softly.
For a moment, the serious prince who had been preparing to face ancient shadows disappeared. In his place stood simply a son.
"Good morning, Mother."
Elira set aside the cloth she had been working on and stood up.
"You finally remembered you have a mother who lives in this palace," she teased gently.
Aerion rubbed the back of his neck with a faint, embarrassed smile.
"I've been… busy."
"Yes, I've heard," she replied calmly.
She walked closer, studying his face carefully the way only a mother could.
"You haven't been sleeping well."
Aerion sighed lightly.
"You can tell?"
"I carried you for nine months," she said, raising an eyebrow. "Of course I can tell."
That made him chuckle softly.
The tension he had been carrying for days seemed to ease slightly just standing there with her.
She reached up and gently brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead.
"You look exactly like your father when he's worried," she said quietly.
"That bad, huh?"
"That stubborn."
They both laughed.
For a few moments, neither of them spoke. The quiet felt peaceful.
Finally, Elira gestured toward the chairs near the balcony.
"Sit with me for a while."
Aerion nodded and sat beside her.
Outside the balcony, the palace gardens stretched beautifully in the morning light. Flowers bloomed in bright colors, and the fountain sparkled peacefully.
It almost felt like the world was normal.
Almost.
Elira poured tea into two small cups and handed one to him.
"So," she said gently, "tell me everything."
Aerion raised an eyebrow.
"Everything?"
"The shadows. The prophecy. The wedding. All of it."
He leaned back slightly in the chair and sighed.
"You already know about the prophecy, don't you?"
"Of course I do."
"And you're not worried?"
Elira took a calm sip of tea.
"A little."
"That's it?"
She smiled faintly.
"Aerion, every mother worries about her child. Whether it's monsters in the forest or monsters in ancient prophecies."
He looked down at his cup quietly.
"The shadows appeared again yesterday," he admitted.
"I heard."
"They're getting stronger."
Elira studied him carefully.
"And you think it's your fault."
Aerion didn't answer immediately.
That silence was enough.
She reached out and gently tapped his forehead with her finger.
"Stop that."
He blinked in surprise.
"What?"
"You always take responsibility for things that aren't yours to carry alone."
He frowned slightly.
"But if the prophecy is tied to me and Lyria—"
"Then it's tied to both of you," she interrupted softly.
Aerion looked up at her.
"And from what I've seen, that girl would punch destiny in the face before letting it hurt you."
That made him laugh again.
"Yeah… she probably would."
Elira smiled warmly.
"She's a wonderful girl."
His expression softened.
"She is."
The queen leaned back slightly in her chair.
"You know, the first time she visited the palace as a child, she accidentally knocked over one of the royal statues."
Aerion blinked.
"What?"
"She tried to pretend it wasn't her fault," Elira continued calmly.
"But she turned bright red and confessed five minutes later."
Aerion laughed loudly now.
"That sounds exactly like her."
Elira nodded.
"And do you know what I thought back then?"
"What?"
She looked at him gently.
"That one day, that girl would change your life."
Aerion grew quiet.
"Well… she did."
"Yes," Elira said softly.
"She did."
The wind moved through the balcony again, carrying the scent of flowers.
For a moment, the world outside the palace seemed very far away.
Elira suddenly reached forward and lightly pinched Aerion's cheek.
He immediately protested.
"Mother!"
"You used to be cuter when you were five."
"I am still cute."
"Debatable."
They both laughed again.
Aerion leaned forward slightly.
"You know… I haven't had time to just talk like this in a while."
"I noticed."
He looked out toward the gardens.
"Everything feels like it's moving too fast. The wedding, the prophecy, the shadows…"
Elira listened quietly.
"And sometimes," he continued softly, "I worry I won't be strong enough to protect everyone."
She didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she stood up and walked behind him.
Then she gently placed her hand on his head, ruffling his hair slightly.
"Hey!"
"You're still my little boy," she said softly.
"Mother, I'm eighteen."
"And?"
He sighed in defeat.
She smiled and walked back to her chair.
"Aerion… strength doesn't mean you carry everything alone."
"Then what does it mean?"
"It means trusting the people who stand beside you."
He thought about that for a moment.
Lyria.
His friends.
His family.
The knights.
The kingdom.
"You sound like Lyria," he said.
Elira grinned.
"I like that girl more every time I hear about her."
Aerion suddenly stood up.
"Come with me."
Elira looked surprised.
"Where?"
"Garden."
"What for?"
"You'll see."
He grabbed her hand like he used to when he was younger and pulled her toward the door.
"Aerion!"
"Trust me."
Moments later, they stepped into the palace gardens.
The sunlight was brighter now, and the fountains sparkled beautifully.
Aerion walked to a small tree near the edge of the garden.
"Remember this?"
Elira's eyes widened slightly.
"That's… the tree you planted when you were little."
Aerion nodded.
"You told me if I took care of it, it would grow strong."
She looked at the tall tree, its branches wide and healthy.
"You did take care of it."
Aerion smiled.
"Not alone."
She understood immediately.
He had needed help.
Sunlight.
Water.
Time.
People.
Just like now.
Elira suddenly pulled him into a hug.
Aerion froze for a moment before hugging her back.
"You're stronger than you think," she whispered.
"And you're not alone."
He closed his eyes briefly.
"Thanks, Mom."
"Also," she added casually, "if you break Lyria's heart, I will personally throw you out of the palace."
He laughed loudly.
"Noted."
They stood there together in the garden for a while longer.
Mother and son.
Just enjoying a rare quiet moment.
Far away beyond the mountains, shadows continued to gather.
But inside the palace garden, under the warm sunlight, something stronger existed.
Family.
And the quiet strength it gave.
Aerion didn't know what the prophecy would bring.
But after this moment…
He felt ready to face it.