The letter arrived under the cover of night.
Sealed in black wax.
Slipped beneath her chamber door like a whisper of temptation.
Elara's fingers trembled as she picked it up, heart pounding.
She shouldn't open it.
She knew that.
But the way her name was written—the dark ink, the precise elegance of the script—made it feel less like a message and more like a secret meant only for her.
From the other room, the Hero's uneven breathing filled the silence.
He had lost everything. His title. His purpose. His divinity.
She had stayed by his side, mending his wounds, whispering reassurances.
But a whisper of doubt had begun to stir inside her.
A doubt she dared not name.
She broke the seal.
Unfolded the parchment.
And read the words of Kael Ardyn.
"Dearest Elara,"
"Forgive my intrusion in these trying times, but I cannot remain silent. I know the burden you bear, the weight of standing beside a man who no longer stands for himself."
"You gave him your unwavering devotion. But tell me, Elara… does he still deserve it?"
"They call you the Hero's lover. But I see you, Elara—not as a shadow of another's legacy, but as a woman whose kindness outshines the stars. Whose spirit was never meant to be shackled by another's fall."
"He is drowning in the weight of his failures. And if you remain… he will pull you under with him."
"I will not tell you what choice to make. Only that, should your heart seek something more—"
"You know where to find me."
—Kael Ardyn
Elara's hands shook as she finished reading.
A storm raged inside her chest.
Her mind screamed to burn the letter. To forget these words before they could take root.
And yet…
Somewhere, deep inside, a voice whispered:
"What if he's right?"
Her fingers curled tightly around the parchment.
She needed to believe in the Hero.
Didn't she?
Then why, when she looked at him lately, did he feel… smaller?
Weaker?
A man clinging to the past, refusing to see the ruin he had become?
Elara swallowed hard, pressing the letter to her chest.
Doubt had already taken root.
Evelyne leaned against the stone balcony, arms crossed.
"You think she'll come?"
Kael stood beside her, gazing over the moonlit city, his expression unreadable.
"Not yet," he murmured. "But she will."
Evelyne scoffed. "You're playing with fire. She's devoted to him."
Kael smirked.
"Devotion is a fragile thing, Evelyne. It withers when left in the shadow of doubt."
She studied him, sharp-eyed. "And if she doesn't break?"
Kael's fingers traced the rim of his wine glass, slow and deliberate.
"Then I'll break her myself."
A gust of wind blew through the open balcony, flickering the candlelight.
Kael did not need Elara's love.
What he needed was to take everything the Hero cherished… and make it his own.
Morning sunlight bled through the curtains.
The Hero awoke to the scent of Elara's presence.
She was at the table, preparing tea, her movements slow. Too slow.
He watched her, something gnawing at his chest.
She wasn't the same.
Her touch had been less warm last night.
Her eyes lingered on him too long, searching for something.
She smiled, but it was forced.
She kissed him, but there was hesitation.
His fingers curled into fists beneath the blanket.
"She's different."
"She's pulling away."
"Why?"
He stood, stepping toward her, voice quieter than usual.
"Elara."
She turned, startled. "Yes?"
His throat tightened.
"Do you still believe in me?"
A moment of silence.
A heartbeat too long.
Her lips parted—then stopped.
A hesitation.
A hesitation that had never been there before.
And in that moment, the Hero knew.
Doubt had already taken root.
He forced a smile, but his hands trembled.
"No."
"I won't lose her."
"I can't."
The storm inside him grew louder.
And from the shadows, Kael watched.
Smiling.
To Be Continued...