The night wind carried the scent of iron and embers into the throne room illuminated by the spiral flame. Amid the soft sounds of rustling leaves, it felt as if the wind itself brought messages from afar. While the world was at war and leaders prepared their defense tactics, Iris Gaia chose to momentarily retreat to the quietest side of the Terra palace—a small room behind the garden, where she often sat in contemplation before disaster struck. There, the moonlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, sprinkling the path with silver shards that invited her to step into the comfortable and fleeting emptiness.

  That night, she was not alone. In the corner of the stone bench, Fitran had already taken a seat, his face hidden in shadow, his shoulders slumped, Voidlight resting in his lap as if it had lost its purpose. He seemed so distant, isolated by the twilight that enveloped him. Each breath he took seemed to carry the unbearable weight of the world, and as Iris approached, she felt the aura of sadness that enveloped the heart of the room.

  Iris walked slowly. Her steps were nearly silent, yet her presence filled the room with a soft and heavy stillness. She felt the softness of the night dew clinging to her skin, adding depth to the melancholy that surrounded her. She sat beside Fitran, drawing her cloak closer, then gazed at the sky, which revealed only the faint glimmer of star remnants. A thin smile passed over her face, like a small hope amidst the darkness, but she quickly held it back, waiting a few moments before speaking, weighing each word—because tonight, for the first time since the war began, she wanted to speak as a woman, not a queen.

  “There’s something I’ve never told you,” she said softly, her voice piercing the silence like the gentle flow of water in the forest. Her voice trembled slightly, as if resisting the wave of pain that had been buried for too long. “About… Aurelia.” In that moment, the shadow of sorrow deepened around them, and Iris could feel her fingers tremble as she gently traced the surface of the stone beside her, depicting the uncertainty and hope that coexisted in her heart.

  Fitran did not respond. He turned slightly, his eyes dim, as if he already knew what was coming but was too weary to evade it. The distance that seemed to read between them indicated a longing for a beautiful past. But Iris caught that gaze, and precisely because of his passive demeanor, she felt more certain to continue. As she recalled those beautiful memories, a small light flickered in the darkness—like a part of the magic of this world witnessing and understanding their story, rebuilding the spirit of memories that once existed.

  “In another world—whether in a time or dimension far away—we once lived together. You and I. Not as king and protector, but… as family.” Iris lowered her gaze, her fingers gripping the folds of her gown so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Her silhouette appeared so small under the dim light of the moon sweeping across the walls of this meeting room, casting shadows that trembled like a wavering heart. “There, we had a daughter. Her name was Aurelia.”

  There was a pause, and these silent moments felt heavier than the crowd of battle sounds in the distance that were nearly meaningless. The sound was like the whispering wind, reminding them of a past filled with hope and pain. Fitran stared at the ground in front of him, his body frozen, as if he were struggling against the wave of memories crashing against his heart.

  “Aurelia… looked so much like you.” Iris smiled bitterly, her smile seeming to be made of glass ready to shatter. “Her silver hair flowed like a stream of light, shimmering under the soft glow. Her eyes… just like yours when you gaze at the dawn—full of curiosity, but always hiding something, like a secret in the twilight mist.” Iris took a trembling breath, the damp aroma from the rain that had just ceased evoking memories of laughter that once existed. Then she continued, “She grew up quickly. Smart, stubborn, and so full of love. She loved to write little songs for me, the notes vibrating softly in my ears like a lullaby. She often waited for you to return from training or battle. And I…”

  I thought… I had finally found a world I could call home.” She held back a sob, tears flowing slowly down her cheeks, reflecting the moonlight like dew drops in the morning. Around them, the old stone walls seemed to absorb the sadness, and this cold meeting room felt warmer with deep emotions. Every physical detail of Iris—from the way she bit her lip to hold back pain to the slight tremor in her shoulders—made Fitran feel more trapped in the helplessness that enveloped them both.

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  Fitran remained still, but his eyes radiated remnants of pain so deep that it could not be spoken. His gaze was sharp, as if trying to sift through the memories hidden behind the shadows of a dark past. In the silence that enveloped the room, the cold wind could be felt sweeping through the corners, rattling the windows that still bore the sweat of a long afternoon.

  “I lost her, Fitran.” Iris’s voice now broke, nearly a whisper. “That day, when the sky of the world shattered—not by war, but by something I don’t even understand—Aurelia vanished before my eyes. Not shattered, not dead… just, gone. As if she were taken by the world itself. I screamed, a cry trapped in my throat, echoing among the ruins and swirling dust.” She cried, her heart torn apart by painful memories. “I ran searching for her, exploring the places we played, hoping to see her smile in an unexpected dark corner. I pleaded with the spiral, with the deity watching the twinkling stars in the night—anyone who would listen—but no one answered.”

  She looked at Fitran, her eyes blazing with tears that flowed, appearing more sorrowful against the backdrop of the darkening sky. The despair that had been held back for so long felt heavier, as if the burden of her heart could not be borne alone.

  “Do you know what it feels like, Fitran? To see all your hopes… all your love… vanish just like that, without being able to embrace it, without being able to say goodbye?” Iris grasped Fitran’s arm, her hand trembling, reflecting the turmoil within her soul. “I tried to strengthen myself in front of others, delving into every phrase of leadership lessons. I tried to be a queen, a leader, a protector. But every night, as the stars began to tremble in the sky, I always returned to one prayer—may Aurelia still be alive in whatever world, still remembering me… remembering us…”

  Fitran remained silent. His eyes now stared blankly, as if trying to find answers among the circular layers of the starry sky. His frozen fingers seemed strong, yet they appeared to support the emotional burden that drained his energy. Slowly, he placed his hand over Iris’s hand, offering silent warmth, even though his lips remained unspoken. In the silence that enveloped the room, the aroma of night flowers from the garden outside surrounded them, as if supporting the pain flowing between their hearts.

  Iris smiled, even though her tears had yet to dry. “I know this may be a new burden for you. I know we are both too weary from loss. But I want you to know—in whatever world, in whatever time, if Aurelia returns… I want her to know that she has two parents who will love her until the end.” A pair of candles on the table nearby flickered gently, as if feeling the intensity of the suffocating emotions. The warm aroma of melting wax added to the intimate atmosphere, while the soft light created dancing shadows on the walls.

  Slowly, Iris rested her head on Fitran’s shoulder, feeling his warmth that might chase away the cold creeping between them. For a few minutes, they simply sat together, allowing memories, loss, and unspoken love to flow freely. Her delicate hand gripped Fitran’s arm tightly, as if hoping her strength would inject a little courage to face the sadness enveloping them.

  Outside, the war still raged. The world was still threatened to drown in Tiamat’s wrath. The distant sounds of explosions added depth to the silence in that small room, making their moment feel even more precious.

  Yet in that small room, time paused for a moment. Two humans who once, at some time, became family—mourning a lost child, waiting for a glimmer of hope that would return someday. Occasionally, the cold breeze would sneak in through the window cracks, bringing the fresh scent of morning dew, as if reminding them that life outside still continued, even though they were trapped in sorrow.

  Fitran remained lost in thought, gazing deep into his own heart, discovering a new empty space there—where Aurelia’s name now resided, alongside thousands of other names that had vanished in the whirlpool of fate. His body froze, but there was a subtle vibration within him, as if his soul was trying to rise even though his heart was weighed down.

  Iris closed her eyes, and for the first time that night, she felt not alone in that loss. Fitran’s embrace, though only faint, felt like a net that saved them, binding them in that bitter reality. Looking into the darkness, she felt a small light shining at the end of the road, one that would guide them back to the happiness they longed for.