The smoke had barely cleared.
But Elara stood by the palace window, eyes fixed on the horizon—
Where once the ships had been.
Where once the truth had arrived with silks and sigils.
Now?
Only crows circled.
Only ash whispered.
---
Cladus approached behind her. Silent, as ever.
But today, that silence was not enough.
"You should rest," he said.
"I should burn this kingdom to the ground," she whispered.
"Elara—"
She turned.
"She won today. And I let her."
"You didn't let her. You fought. And you learned."
She looked away, hands clenched so tight her knuckles cracked.
"We're out of allies, Cladus. We're out of moves."
But Cladus… looked past her. Out the window. Toward the cliffs.
"Not all of them."
"What do you mean?"
"Some ships don't dock at the harbor."
Elara blinked.
"Cladus—what are you saying?"
"I'm saying not every ally fights in the open. And not every fire destroys."
---
At the same time, in a study lined with forgotten maps…
Auren stood before a table—scratched, ink-stained, and covered with game pieces.
Not chess.
Not war.
A map of survival.
He placed a carved figurine on the North cove.
A single dot. A hidden move.
"She'll find it," he said to himself.
"Because if she doesn't… all of this was for nothing."
He touched the edge of the figurine.
Paused.
"I'm not doing this for her," he said aloud.
No one was there to disagree.
"I'm doing it for the story. For the chaos. For the thrill."
And yet—his hand didn't move.
Because he knew.
"Lie better, Auren," he muttered. "Even your own heart's laughing at you."
---
Far from the cliffs, beneath tapestries and trembling candlelight…
Serina poured wine into her glass, red as spilled secrets.
"He's moved," she said, not looking up.
A shadow stepped forward.
"You mean Cladus?"
"No."
She sipped.
"The clown."
The figure stiffened.
"Auren? He's harmless."
"No," Serina said softly.
"He's dangerous because he pretends he's not."
She placed her cup down.
"Keep eyes on him. Every smile. Every step."
"You think he'll betray you?"
"No," she murmured.
"I think… he already has."
---
Later that night…
Elara stood alone in the northern corridor.
The wind howled.
A letter had been slipped under her door. No name. No seal. Just a map.
A route leading far from the capital. Past cliffs. Toward a hidden shore.
And scrawled at the bottom, in a script she knew all too well:
"Even fools know when to fold their cards."
Elara's hand trembled.
She crushed the letter against her chest.
"Auren…"
But she didn't finish the thought.
She couldn't.
Because it was too early to admit that the crown prince's game…
…might just be the one keeping her alive.