The castle balcony stood silent.
King Edward's eyes remained locked on the distant fire swallowing Masvel's horizon, his hands trembling slightly as they gripped the edge. His breath was shallow. His kingdom was crumbling, his people were dying, and his family—
Tears welled again in his eyes, but this time from something deeper than fear.
Guilt.
Then—
SLAM!
The throne room doors burst open. A guard stormed in, panting like he'd outrun death itself. His armor was scratched, one gauntlet missing, and his face pale with panic.
"M-My king!" he gasped. "The que…en… the que—she's been found!"
Edward's eyes widened. He turned sharply, the tears drying on his cheeks as hope slammed into his chest like a war drum. "Wait—what did you say? My wife? My children?"
The guard staggered forward, trying to catch his breath. Before he could speak again, another voice echoed—calm but powerful.
"Confirmed, Your Highness. The queen and the children are alive."
Everyone turned.
Michael.
