Somewhere behind her, Nythir slept. The thought slipped in uninvited, vivid and dangerous. She imagined the weight of his presence where she had left it behind. If she stopped now—if she even slowed—she was sure she would fold inward on herself and run back.
Don’t look back, she told herself.
Her magic stirred restlessly beneath her skin, sensitive without the bracelet’s steady pressure. Not flaring. Not yet. Just aware—as if it knew something she didn’t.
The city felt wrong in its stillness. Too quiet.
Esther drew her cloak tighter and forced her feet to keep going. Tonight was about duty. Tomorrow could deal with regret.
She rubbed at the bare skin where her bracelet used to sit, fingers circling the faint indentation it had left behind. Without it, her magic lay closer to the surface—raw, responsive, and humming softly beneath her pulse. Exposed.
This is my decision, she reminded herself—no one else’s.
Lucy waited near the north gate, arms wrapped tightly around herself against the cold. Her colorful hair was pulled back messily, curls escaping their tie. Her breath puffed white into the air, quick and shallow, betraying nerves she would never admit.
When she spotted Esther, her posture loosened immediately.
“Esther… you look pale. Are you alright?”
“No,” Esther admitted. “But I made my decision.”
Lucy blinked, straightening—the night pressed in around them, moonlight sharp enough to cut.
Esther drew a breath that burned her lungs. “I want to go back to the palace.”
For a long moment, Lucy only stared at her—not disbelieving, but recalibrating, as if rearranging the world in her head.
“Tonight?” Lucy asked quietly. “You mean… now?”
“Yes,” Esther’s voice wavered despite her resolve. “I can’t keep pretending I don’t see what’s happening here—the hunger, the people sleeping in the streets with no warmth, the orphanage barely holding together. I can’t pretend it isn’t my responsibility.”
Her throat tightened. “I’m the Princess of Valedara,” she said softly. “Even if it means giving up what I want.”
The words felt heavier once spoken aloud. Princess. She had worn the title her whole life like a borrowed coat—something that fit well enough until she moved too quickly. Now it settled onto her shoulders with uncomfortable certainty.
This is what Mother felt, Esther thought. Not the crown. Not the ceremony. This moment, standing in the dark, knowing that love did not outweigh responsibility—no matter how much she wished it did.
Fear curled in her stomach, sharp and familiar. Not fear of pain or loss, but of becoming someone she did not fully recognize. Someone who made decisions that hurt the people she loved and called it necessary.
What if I disappear into it?She wondered.What if there’s nothing left of me afterward?
Her gaze flicked briefly down the empty street, instinct screaming at her to hurry, to finish this before doubt cracked her resolve entirely. She lifted her chin. Even if she was afraid of who she might become, she was more scared of doing nothing.
Lucy’s expression flickered between several emotions before settling into something fierce and achingly proud. She stepped forward and took Esther’s hands, squeezing hard.
“Esther,” she said, voice thick. “I’m proud of you. Truly. But I don’t want to watch you disappear into duty until there’s nothing left of you.”
Esther squeezed back, desperate. “I know. I’m scared of that too.”
Lucy swallowed. “Are you certain?”
“Yes,” Esther said, her voice cracking. She had to leave now, before doubt clawed its way back in. “If I stay any longer, I won’t be able to go at all.”
Lucy nodded once. “Then let’s get you home.”
Relief and grief tangled painfully in Esther’s chest.
“I don’t trust myself to teleport us. If I hesitate, if I second-guess—this is too important,” Esther admitted, rubbing her bare wrist again, eyes dropping. “We need Basil.”
