The sun was warm over the fields of Elaris, and for once, Empress Myreiya was not surrounded by gold, silk, or shadowed guards—but by farmers.
Dressed in a deep green travel robe with no crown on her head, she bent to the earth and listened.
"My crops are dying, Empress. The mage from the capital never returned," an old woman said.
"We need a new well," another man added. "The last one dried weeks ago."
Myreiya nodded. "We'll send crystal diggers before the next moon. And a healing mage for your grandson."
She placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and smiled gently.
For the first time in days, Mirror—watching from a nearby tree—felt... confused.
This was not the cruel, punishing ruler from the palace.
This was someone else.
Was this an act?
Or was the palace the act?
That evening, the royal caravan returned to Palace Zarynth.
Myreiya didn't speak much. She walked slowly, lost in her thoughts. The stars above the palace blinked cold and distant.
Mirror returned to the servant's quarters.
But sleep did not come easily.
In the dead of night, a faint sound echoed through the corridor.
A gasp.
Then choking.
Then silence.
Mirror, walking past the Empress's chambers, froze.
He felt it before he heard it.
Panic.
He opened the side door just enough to see her.
Myreiya was on the floor, hands clawing at her neck, eyes wide, body shaking.
A panic attack.
He ran in.
"Myreiya!"
She couldn't speak.
He knelt beside her and gently took her hand.
"Breathe with me. Slowly. In… and out."
He placed her hand over her heart. His voice stayed calm, steady, soft like river water.
"In... and out. I'm here. No one's watching. You're safe."
Slowly… her chest began to rise evenly. Her hands stopped shaking. Her eyes softened.
She fell asleep in his arms, exhausted.
He placed her gently on the bed and left before dawn.
Morning came with shouting.
"Queen! Empress Myreiya!" The voice echoed down the halls.
Mirror's eyes narrowed.
He followed the noise into the throne room.
A man stood there—dressed in heavy robes, with a smirk too sharp for court. His name was Lord Velyr.
"Your Empire—Vaelora—is under threat," he announced dramatically.
"Spies. Betrayers. I warned you! You are too soft!"
Mirror stood near the shadows, watching quietly.
He had seen this man before—in secret meetings with enemy merchants, near the border cities.
Not a friend.
Maybe even the real danger.
Myreiya sat up on her throne, pale from the night before, but her voice was sharp.
"And yet you come shouting, not with proof. Interesting."
Lord Velyr bowed low, too low.
Mirror's eyes narrowed further.
He had to find out what this man truly wanted.
And if the Empress... could survive what was coming.