The moon hung low over Aerindale, casting silver light across the castle's highest tower. Inside, the royal nursery glowed softly with candlelight. Queen Evelyne sat by the cradle, humming a lullaby to the tiny princess swaddled in gold-trimmed silk. Her voice trembled with love and weariness, her fingers brushing the baby's soft cheek.
"She will be the heart of the kingdom," the Queen whispered to herself. "Kind, wise, and strong."
But outside the nursery, shadows stirred.
In a hallway shrouded in silence, Lady Malvera, the King's younger sister, moved swiftly with two cloaked men by her side. Her expression was cold, sharp like a blade dipped in honey.
"She should've been mine," Malvera hissed. "That throne. That crown. That child."
The King's throne had always been her envy. And now, with the Queen weakened after childbirth and the King distracted in diplomatic matters, Malvera had her chance.
They slipped into the nursery without a sound. The Queen had fallen asleep beside the cradle. One of the cloaked men picked up the infant, wrapping her in a coarse gray cloth.
A quiet whimper escaped the baby's lips.
Queen Evelyne stirred. Her eyes fluttered open—just in time to see a shadow disappear through the door.
"No—wait—!" she cried, but her voice was hoarse and her body too weak to rise.
By the time the guards responded, the room was empty. The princess—Aria—was gone.
---
Outside the palace, the three figures raced through the dark woods. At the edge of the river, Malvera took the baby in her arms one last time. For a moment, even she hesitated—then hardened her heart.
"Let fate decide," she muttered, placing the basket into the river. The current caught it quickly, and the tiny bundle drifted into the night, swallowed by moonlight and mist.
As the royal horns blared in alarm behind them, Malvera turned and walked away.
Back at the palace, the Queen screamed the name of her daughter, echoing through the halls like a haunting curse.
---
Somewhere downstream, under the thick canopy of trees, an old couple heard a strange cry near the water. The woman rushed forward, eyes wide with shock.
"It's a baby!" she gasped. "Alric, look! She's all alone."
The man joined her, wrapping his cloak around the child. "We can't leave her here."
They had no children of their own. And in that moment, fate spun a new thread.
They named her Aria—after the wind's song the night she arrived.
She would grow, not as a princess, but as a servant girl in a humble village.
And the kingdom would forget the child it lost… for now.