The carriage bore no royal crest—only a single thread of silver woven into the velvet curtains.
We didn't head to the palace.
Instead, the driver turned onto a narrow forest path known only to those once bound to the Crown. At its end stood a stone villa nestled among the trees—silent, still, and waiting.
I expected the Queen.
But it was Prince Thalen who greeted me—her adopted nephew, a figure so rarely seen that most dismissed him as a formality.
He looked younger than I imagined. But his voice—his gaze—felt centuries older.
"You've stirred more than rumors," he said.
"I'm not here to ask for protection," I replied.
"Good," he said. "The Queen doesn't offer it freely."
He slid a folder across the low table between us. Its seal shimmered with dormant flame-glyphs—symbols of containment and secrecy.
"These records were locked away before you were born. She's offering access."
I didn't reach for it. "Why me?"
"Because you haven't pledged yourself to anyone."
I studied him. "And that makes me… convenient?"
"That makes you dangerous."
My fingers hovered over the seal. "What does she expect in return?"
"Nothing," he said. "Not yet. But make no mistake—she's watching. If you fall, she won't intervene. But if you rise…"
He left the sentence unfinished. He didn't need to.
I took the folder.
It wasn't allegiance.It was permission.Permission to remain untethered.
As I stepped into the cold again, his voice followed:
"Neutral ground is the most dangerous to walk.But it also sees the clearest."