The night had grown quiet after they left.
Even the sea, which never truly slept, seemed gentler—its waves brushing against the docks like fading whispers.
Mira stood there for a while, her dress fluttering in the cold wind.
The last trace of lantern light from the departing caravan had long vanished beyond the hill road, yet she still found herself staring after it, as though she could will it back.
She drew a slow breath, tasting the salt in the air.170Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2JHAWPUxU3
“Blackbarrow…” she murmured, almost to herself. “You finally left... my prince.”
Her voice was soft, lost beneath the surf.
A faint creak of wood drew her gaze—an old fishing boat swaying gently against its moorings.
For a moment, the stillness pressed down on her, and she felt the emptiness of the courtyard stretch wide.
She turned away, hugging her arms against the chill as she walked back toward the guild.
The oil lamps had been dimmed, and most of the staff had long since gone home.
The tables were empty. The guild hall felt heavier than usual.
Then—she noticed a few maps still scattered across the counter.
Mira set her hand on them for a moment, then smiled faintly.170Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPlXwctfSvn
“Lana shouldn’t have left them lying around like this…”
She gathered the maps and folded them neatly, placing them back into their case.
Her fingers lingered on one—an old chart of the northern road. Ink stains marked Blackbarrow and the ridge beyond.
Her smile faded.
The Crows won’t catch us, Lucien had said.170Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlO8UvNnBEc
She could only hope it was true.
Pulling her cloak tighter, Mira moved toward the door, pausing at the threshold. Moonlight spilled through the window—pale and silver.
“He’s gone now, Mira,” she whispered. “You’re going back to your normal life again tomorrow.”
Outside, a single gull cried, sharp against the still air.
Then came the sound of soft footsteps on the stairs.
Mira turned and saw her mother, Elia, appear in the dim glow of the oil lamp—her hair tied loosely, a shawl draped over her shoulders. 170Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEfx06w1nAw
She looked tired, but her eyes were calm, warm in that quiet way only mothers could manage.
“Is he gone?” Elia asked gently.
Mira nodded, her gaze dropping to the floor. “Yes. They left just before dawn.”
Elia crossed the hall, her slippers whispering against the wooden boards. “So… you’ve decided to stay?”
“Yes, Mother,” Mira said softly. “But… it doesn’t feel right.”
Elia’s hand came to rest on her daughter’s shoulder. “What does your heart tell you, then?”
Mira gave a small laugh, though her eyes still carried the sadness of parting. “I don’t know, Mother. Leaving Mermaid’s Cove—you and Father—feels wrong as well.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The wind brushed against the shutters, carrying the faint scent of the sea between them.
Elia’s gaze softened. “You’re seventeen now, Mira. Have you ever thought about your future?”
Mira looked up, puzzled. “My future?”
Her mother smiled gently. “Yes, my dear. What kind of life you wish for.”
Mira opened her mouth to answer, but no words came. She realized—she had never really thought about it.
Elia reached out and gently patted her head. “If you stay here, you’ll probably marry someone local, have children, grow old, and live a peaceful, happy life.”
She paused, studying her daughter’s face. “Is that what you want?”
Mira stayed quiet, her eyes drifting toward the window where the moonlight shimmered faintly on the waves.
She tried to picture it—the peaceful life her mother described.
A small home by the sea, mornings at the market, evenings by the fire.
It sounded warm… but somehow distant, like it belonged to someone else.
“I… don’t know,” she said softly.
Elia smiled, though there was a hint of sadness in her eyes.
“There’s your answer,” she said. “If you wanted that kind of life, you would’ve said yes.”
Mira frowned slightly. “But what if my feelings are wrong?”
Elia gave a soft laugh. “Then you’ll learn, and you’ll try again. That’s what growing up means.”
She brushed a loose strand of hair from Mira’s face, her touch gentle.170Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIXe4fhT2WA
“You remind me of myself when I was your age—always looking at the horizon, wondering what’s beyond it.”
Mira blinked, surprised. “You did?”
Elia’s smile turned wistful. “Of course. But then I met your father, and the horizon didn’t seem so far anymore. He brought me to many places before we finally settled down in Mermaid’s Cove.”
Mira looked down, a small, conflicted smile on her lips. “You make it sound so easy.”
The truth was—part of her wanted to go. To follow Lucien. To see the places marked on those maps, not just trace them with her fingertips.
But another part of her wanted to stay—to keep the quiet mornings, the laughter of fishermen, and the warmth of home.
Elia’s gaze lingered on her daughter for a while, the lamplight soft against her face.
“You don’t have to decide right now,” she said quietly. “Life has a way of showing you where you belong… if you just keep walking.”
Mira nodded faintly, though her heart still felt heavy. “I just wish I knew what I was meant to do.”
Her mother smiled gently. “No one ever truly knows, Mira. Not at your age. Not even at mine.”
That made Mira smile a little, though it was fleeting.
Elia stepped closer, drawing her into a warm embrace. “Whatever path you choose, remember this—you were never meant to stay small. You have a gift, my dear. Don’t be afraid to use it.”
Mira hesitated, her voice a whisper. “Even if it leads me away from here?”
Elia nodded, resting a hand against the back of her head. “Even then. Especially then.”
For a moment, they stayed like that—the sound of waves outside, the flicker of the oil lamp, the quiet rhythm of two hearts finding comfort in the dark.
When Elia finally pulled away, she gave Mira’s cheek a gentle pat. “Come, get some rest. Don’t think too much.”
Mira gave a small nod. “I’ll come upstairs in a bit, Mother.”
“Goodnight, my dear,” Elia said softly, before heading up the stairs.
Mira stood there a while longer, her eyes following the fading glow of her mother’s lamp as it disappeared into the upper floor.
Then she turned toward the window once more. The sea stretched out beyond the docks, dark and endless, and the moon floated above it like a silver coin.
The night stretched long and still as Mira sat by the window, chin resting on her hand, watching the silver light ripple across the sea.
Her thoughts drifted between the moon and the memory of Lucien’s voice—calm, sure, and fading.
Then, suddenly—
Bang!
The guild’s front doors burst open.
Mira flinched, turning sharply.
A figure stumbled in from the street, panting hard. It was Mayor Beren—his coat half-buttoned, his face pale with sweat.
“Garron!” he barked, his voice echoing through the empty hall. “Where are you?”
Mira blinked, startled. “M–Mayor Beren? What’s wrong?”
The man barely noticed her at first. He steadied himself against the counter, gasping between words. “Where’s… your father, Mira? I need him—now!”
“He’s upstairs, in the infirmary,” Mira said quickly, stepping closer. “What happened?”
Beren ran a trembling hand over his face, still catching his breath. “Remember those assassins you froze a few days ago?”
Mira nodded slowly.
The mayor swallowed hard, desperation and fear flickering in his eyes. “One of them finally talked. He said…”170Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7hkJUJn7eT
Mira’s stomach tightened. “He said what?”
The mayor exhaled shakily. “…He said the prince won’t make it back to the capital—no matter what. Because they weren’t the only squad, Mira. Every town nearby has Crows waiting.”
He paused, his voice dropping to a grim whisper.170Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlHXdYevyMT
“Even Blackbarrow.”
The air went still. Even the sea outside seemed to hold its breath.
Mira felt her heart pound once, hard—then everything inside her went cold...
ns216.73.217.15da2
and then Add to home screen.