The King lunged forward, catching Eira before she hit the floor. Cradling her, he stared at the phantom petals dissolving around them. His wife’s spell, reborn through their daughter. Tears blurred his vision as his voice cracked.

  “Your mother was right… You were never cursed. She never doubted you. But I…” His grip tightened. “Have I been a fool all this time?”

  A wracking cough tore through him.

  “Your Highness!” Hera rushed to his side, steadying his trembling frame. “Your health. You must rest!”

  “I’m fine,” he lied, waving her off. “Please… take care of Eira.”

  “I will.”

  “And… please keep this from the others.”

  “Don’t worry, Your Majesty.”

  Hera tucked Eira into bed, brushing silver-white hair from the princess’s damp forehead. The warm towel in her hands trembled slightly.

  “Magnificent,” she whispered. “Just like her. Wouldn’t you agree, Lady Liora?”

  The empty room offered no reply.

  “Father! Father!”

  At dawn, Eira burst into the King’s chambers, still in her rumpled daily gown. The King sat at his desk, face schooled into icy calm, as if last night’s garden had been a dream.

  “I did it,” Eira declared, marching forward. “Your promise.”

  The King’s quill paused mid-stroke. “You’re still dreaming, Eira?” He scoffed. “The world outside isn’t as colorful as you think.”

  Eira’s fists clenched. “You promised! Eight years. I gave everything to recreate Mother’s spell! You swore if I could–”

  “The world is terrifying, Eira. We struggle to survive. Monsters are strong. You might die.”

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  “So you want me to just sit here? Wait for the Black Dragon to return? Die without even having a chance to live?”

  “…”

  The King took a deep breath, audible in the silence. “…Do you truly believe you can be a hero?”

  “Yes.” No hesitation.

  The King turned to the window, where dawn painted the sky the color of his late queen’s passion. My love, he thought, was this your hope all along?

  “Very well.”

  Eira’s breath caught.

  “But under conditions,” he continued. “First, you must hide your identity. Second, Dain will accompany you.”

  “With Dain? Why?”

  The King answered with a cold stare.

  “…Okay,” Eira whispered.

  “Third, you are not allowed to return unless you’ve given up or defeated the Black Dragon. No royal funding. You’ll live on your own. That’s what you wanted, right?”

  Eira dropped to her knees in a bow, her grin unstoppable. “Thank you, Father!”

  “You leave tomorrow. I’ll have Dain prepare everything.”

  She nearly skipped down the hall, only to pause at a familiar door. Inside, Hera dusted a long-neglected room. Its sparse furniture was draped in sheets, its shelves lined with music boxes and a child’s tiny practice sword.

  “Nana?” Eira knocked.

  Hera turned, eyes red-rimmed. “Princess! You should be resting–”

  “I’m going, Nana!” Eira twirled, her gown flaring. “Father agreed!”

  Hera’s hands flew to her mouth. Then, with a sob, she yanked Eira into a crushing embrace. “My stubborn girl… You’ve grown so much.”

  Eira buried her face in Hera’s shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of chamomile soap. “I’ll miss you.”

  “I’ll miss you too, Princess.”

  “Nana… can you dye my hair?”

  “Of course. What color?”

  “Blue.”

  “But you should bathe first. You skipped your bath yesterday,” Hera teased.

  Eira blushed. “I’m not stinky… am I?”

  “Yes, Princess,” Hera replied with a smile.

  Steam curled through the royal bathhouse, fragrant with jasmine oils. Eira sank into the scalding water, watching her reflection warp in the foggy mirror.

  When did I get so tall? How much have I changed? It feels like just yesterday… and yet, it’s been forever.

  Her mother’s laughter echoed in her memory. Splashing in this same tub, braiding each other’s hair. Eight years. Half her life spent chasing a ghost.

  “I’m leaving, Mother,” she murmured. “But… can I really do this? Can I really be strong like you? Can I really be… a hero?”