Five years after the Heaven Wars victory.
Elysvarre, the last kingdom standing proudly in the western plains of Earth—a land that never bowed during the Great War—has now become a symbol of strength and resilience in this new era. Under the sagacious leadership of House Caereth, it not only upholds cherished traditions but also strives to reshape a world torn apart by divine forces and the haunting emptiness left in the wake of conflict. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, Elysvarre is determined to rebuild a brilliant future, innovating new values that benefit all its citizens and fostering enhanced cooperation with previously adversarial kingdoms.
Fitran Fate—known to many as The Inheritor of the Twilight Victory—stands on the high balcony of Celesthall Castle. The autumn air carries the earthy scent of damp soil and burnt leaves, creating a reflective atmosphere reminiscent of lives once lost. In the distance, the valleys of Elysvarre unfold like a stunning tapestry of bronze and gold, radiating the serene beauty of nature, a stark contrast to the turmoil of history.
A year has passed since the great victory, yet its scars have never truly healed.
"And now they want to marry me," he thinks, his voice trembling.
"But my heart belongs solely to Rinoa," he says with a tone full of sadness, his gaze focused on the view outside.
At the balcony table, the girl sat quietly, with a gentle breeze brushing through her flowing hair. "Talking about other women in front of me. You have a nasty trait, hero," she said, her voice resonating like the rustling leaves in the woods.
"Obligations seem to be the chains that bind us to a fate we did not choose, don't they?" Sheena continued, elegantly emerging from the evening shadows. Her voice was soft yet firm, carrying a profound melancholic tone that resonated with the weight of history. "Is this what a hero's life entails? Sacrificing the heart for grand ambitions and a world that desperately seeks success? Where, then, is the freedom of a hero's soul within the suffocating grip of politics and arranged marriages? This reminds us of the hero stories woven throughout history, burdened by responsibilities and aspirations that clash with their personal desires."
"Not everything that glitters is gold, Sheena," Fitran replied, struggling to contain the anger that shattered his heart. "Like a rose, my beauty is adorned with thorns. I am caught between grasping freedom and following destiny."
"What I desire is the freedom to choose," Sheena replied, pausing for a moment, her eyes reflecting a repressed longing and unexpressed hope. "A rose will not bloom without genuine light and love. And I wonder, will that light ever illuminate our path?"
From that balcony, she could see the towering mountains capped with glistening snow under the afternoon sun. A cool breeze blew, carrying the fresh aroma of untouched nature. In the distance, birds flew across the blue sky, creating a scene that was profoundly calming.
"I don't like this life," Fitran uttered, his heart crying out. "Destined to accept what is not mine, as if all the hopes and dreams I once cherished have been mercilessly snatched away from me."
"But just a few days ago, you looked like a puppet, stiff and lifeless," Fitran taunted, his eyes sharply scrutinizing Sheena in the dim light, the echo of his words highlighting the emotional turmoil they both felt.
"I've only become this way because of your influence. Now, you must take responsibility for what has happened," Sheena replied, her voice filled with emotion, conveying helplessness and despair.
Not because of love. But because of politics and the machinations of power. The Earth nation needs to convince Gaia that they submit to the new alliance—through blood and marriage. Like two crowns united by power, they all must play the roles that have been predetermined by the hands of fate and history.
Yesterday,
The Grand Hall of Concordia was lavishly yet rigidly prepared. Marble pillars adorned with carvings of the Tree of Life surrounded a small stage where two prominent families would meet.
Fitran entered with steady steps. His shoulders were draped in a dark cloak adorned with the symbol of Excalibur, now a burden and a promise. Deep inside, he understood the meaning of that symbol—a knight fighting for honor and bearing the weight of responsibility. Before him stood the Elysvarre delegation: Lord Caereth, the queen, and beside them a girl in a black dress with white lace.
She stood before him.
Sheena Valtheris Elyndra Caereth.
Her name had been announced before she stepped into the hall, but the reality before Fitran far exceeded his imagination.
She resembled a doll.
Her golden hair flowed perfectly, flawless. Her skin was pale, as if rarely touched by sunlight. Her beautiful violet eyes did not radiate the light of life—but rather an odd calmness. Not emptiness... but something held back forcefully.
Like a preserved rose in glass. Beautiful, eternal, yet not free.
"She... is not alive?" Fitran's heart whispered.
"Your Majesty Fitran Fate," Lord Caereth's voice shattered the silence. "Allow me to present my daughter, Sheena Valtheris Elyndra, who on behalf of our family and the people of Elysvarre, will serve as the bond between two worlds."
Sheena bowed her head gracefully. There was no sound. No small movement that hinted at nervousness or curiosity.
Silence. Too much silence.
Fitran stepped closer, while the nobles and spectators watched from the upper balcony, all anticipating a courteous exchange of words, a pledge of loyalty, perhaps a fleeting smile.
Yet, Sheena remained silent, disregarding the eager hopes radiating from all those waiting. The stillness spoke louder than unuttered words.
Their eyes met—violet and gray, carrying a thousand memories of war and loss, a stark juxtaposition of hope and emptiness that quickened their hearts. It was as if each recalled every moment that had shaped them into who they were now.
"I can't speak in public," Sheena finally whispered, her voice trembling like dry leaves in the wind. "I... I'm just a symbol, trapped in a role not of my choosing." She gazed into Fitran's eyes, as if searching for light in the darkness. "Like a rose that's confined, I too long for freedom, but..."
Fitran felt a weight in his chest. "But, Sheena, I see more than just a symbol in you. There is strength in your hidden smile, like a thorny rose that protects its beauty." He yearned to reach for her hand, to gently touch the petals at her fingertips.
Sheena averted her gaze, avoiding the hopeful stare. "This strength... why do you want to see it? They expect me to remain trapped in silence, like a rose unable to bloom." Her voice grew softer, tinged with profound sadness.
"Because beneath all this," Fitran pressed, "I remember that the best roses are those that grow in fields surrounded by thorns. And I want to help you break free from those shackles." He tried to reach deeper, sensing the unexpected turmoil of emotions.
Sheena exhaled heavily, her expression suggesting an unspoken promise. "Are you brave enough to break through its barrier? To see the world beyond this emptiness?"
"If there is a way to free you, Sheena, I will do it with all my heart and soul. Together, we can challenge any limits that stand in our way. Like two roses united, fighting through the darkness, we will find the light."
The only sound was their breaths, with threats and hopes clashing in a moment filled with tension.
Fitran, accustomed to political strategies and diplomatic niceties, sensed something different in Sheena. She was not merely quiet; she was locked away, burdened by a role that stifled her spirit.
"It's not that you don't want to," Fitran murmured, just low enough for only the two of them to hear. "But because they have made you this way. It's as if you are a rose planted in a narrow pot, unable to bloom fully. Do you feel it?"
Sheena stared at the ground, as though searching for answers among the grass. "Even a rose wants to grow, yet its roots are bound in soil that offers no space. This obligation... it makes it hard for me to breathe."
Fitran leaned closer, his voice trembling. "When I look at you, I don't just see a symbol. I see a bird caged, longing to soar. Is there any glimmer of hope for you to fly, Sheena?"
Sheena lifted her gaze slightly, her eyes sharp like the thorns of a rose. "Hope is scarce, Fitran. It feels as if every time I reach for the light, shadows obstruct my way. Can you understand my struggle?"
Fitran took a deep breath, his heart in turmoil. "I try, but every day I am faced with choices that force me to choose between freedom and obligation. You are the light I long for, yet those shadows... they always return to haunt me."
Sheena shut her eyes for a moment, trying to hold back her tears. "Many say that love between roses like us will only bring pain. Yet, it is within that pain that I find my strength. Do you still want to fight for me?"
Fitran gently touched her shoulder, his guilt weighing heavily in his heart. "I promise I will find a way. One day, we will break free from these chains, and you will bloom like a rose in the midst of spring, vibrant and full of life."
That night, Fitran walked through the gardens of Celesthall Castle. He knew this was not merely a matter of matchmaking. Elysvarre held secrets. Sheena was the key.
At the edge of the garden, behind a glass window reflecting the moonlight, Fitran saw Sheena sitting alone. A book lay open in her lap, yet her fingers did not move to turn the pages.
"Dolls do not read," Fitran said, his voice shaking amid the shadows of the roses in the nearby pots.
"But she tries to understand," Sheena replied, her gaze fixed on the untouched pages of the book.
Fitran approached the door, not knocking, merely standing on the threshold of uncertainty. "You are like a rose trapped in thorns," he said, his heart swirling with conflicting emotions. Sheena looked up.
"I knew you would come," she said, her voice flat yet carrying a hidden depth. "This game has been set in motion. Even as we speak, someone is watching our every move."
"Who is controlling you?" Fitran asked sharply, tension lacing his voice. "Can they truly dictate your choices?"
Sheena gazed at the black rose, as if uncovering answers within its wounded and enigmatic petals. "Those who hold ancient will bind me," she replied, "my father, the Caereth Council, and... something older than anything you know, an ancient force that silences my voice in stillness."
Fitran felt a chill run down his spine.
This was more than mere politics.
"There is magic at play," he thought, "a will that stifles Sheena's voice—rendering her a beautiful rose trapped, unable to bloom freely."
"Why don't you fight back?" Fitran asked, his tone shifting from tension to a soft, caring encouragement. "You deserve to soar free, not just remain trapped in this dark shadow. What hope can we grasp if we do not strive?" Sheena exhaled, surprised to hear concern woven into his sincere question.
Sheena stood slowly, her dress rustling gently as if reflecting unspoken layers of secrets. She took a step closer, the distance between them mere half a stride, like two roses yearning for each other in a confined garden.
"I... choose to remain silent, not because I lack a voice, but because I know too well what might happen if I speak," she replied in a calm, lyrical yet challenging tone, as if reminding Fitran of the dangers that accompanied her words.
"For now, my silence is my weapon, a shield in a world filled with intrigue and peril," Sheena answered resolutely.
Fitran invited her outside to a tranquil and serene place where they could speak freely without interruption. Beneath the expansive fading sky, the whispering breeze danced among the trees, creating an intimate atmosphere, one that felt like a shared secret between two souls yearning for understanding.
"What do you hope for from all this, Fitran?" Sheena asked, her voice like a calm stream, yet masking an underlying venom that hinted at her deeper fears. "Are we trapped in gunpowder and embers, or is there a sacred space in your heart for a blooming rose, a symbol of hope?"
"I am bound by the fate chosen for me, Sheena," Fitran replied, his tone firm yet tinged with weakness. "But in the midst of these dark corridors, I see a light within you. The freedom you possess seems like a memory I never had."
Sheena gazed at him, her violet eyes shining with a depth of secrets that held both tension and longing. "Freedom? Or perhaps, I am merely a shadow you hope to reach out for in your dreams. Beneath this beautiful gown lies a web that ensnares me in promises I never asked for, trapped by unfulfilled hopes. I long to feel it, yet these shackles are hard to ignore, much like the barbs of a rose that prick the flesh."
"But can't we fight back, Sheena? Throughout history, many have managed to break free from their shackles, changing their destinies despite the heavy price," Fitran insisted, his heart in turmoil. "Is there not a space for a rose to bloom in a land filled with wounds?"
The rose must root deeply in an ocean of profound desires," Sheena replied, her voice soft, while the pain in her heart felt trapped in its own restraints. "Yet sometimes, we are born as beautiful fish in an enchanting aquarium—adorned with vibrant colors, but still confined without the freedom to explore a broader world. What is the meaning of beauty if it cannot be fully experienced, like a queen without a kingdom?"
"I will find a way," Fitran promised, his voice piercing through the walls of uncertainty that stretched between them. "I will uncover this freedom for us."
Sheena smiled gently, yet her smile could not conceal the profound sadness that lingered beneath. "Hope is a delicate rose, Fitran. Be careful not to fall prey to its thorns, for they can cut as deep as any blade."
Fitran wanted to argue. He yearned to offer assurances of freedom, strength, even challenges, but something in Sheena's eyes halted him, as if her gaze was a labyrinth filled with wisdom, awakening him to the realization of how much remained hidden behind that silence. It was somewhat unsettling for Fitran to acknowledge just how little he understood about the woman before him.
Her silence was a subtle form of resistance, a resignation to a fate that perhaps she could not choose.
If she spoke, they would create more chains, chains that would be even heavier than what many could imagine.
If she remained silent, she still had space to be herself, a patch of freedom in this thorn-laden garden.
"Tomorrow," Sheena said, shifting her gaze toward the horizon. "In the Eastern garden. At dawn." Her voice contained both hope and tension, like a rose blooming amidst thorny bushes.
"What will we do?" Fitran asked, his heart fluttering between curiosity and responsibility.
Sheena smiled faintly, a deep longing reflected in her smile. For the first time, Fitran saw a genuine human warmth, a soft light in the darkness of the night that enveloped them.
"I will show you something they do not know, a world where I can be more than just a symbol, but truly myself, free from all the rules that constrain my existence," she explained, each word resonating like a chorus of hope and deep sorrow interwoven in her confined life.
Fitran nodded, but deep down, he knew he was caught between two worlds: one he had to preserve and another he longed for. In battle, he had fought against demons, gods, and the void itself. But that night, he understood that the hardest fight was just beginning.
It wasn't against an enemy, but rather to free the soul of a woman who had become a symbol. In his heart, he felt a profound connection coupled with a paralysis brought about by his responsibilities.
And Fitran swore to himself:
"I will not allow you to be a puppet in this new world. Even if it means betraying all the alliances I have formed, I will fight for your freedom, just as I struggle for the rose in this thorny forest."