Threads between us.

Everywhere, there was an enchanting atmosphere, as if the world itself had turned magical. Chirping birds, the fragrance of colorful flowers, and trees laden with sweet and delicious fruits added to the beauty of the courtyard.

At one corner of the garden, there was a breathtakingly beautiful pond clear and shining like pearls where a group of swam was swimming gracefully, refreshing themselves in the cool water.

At the very center of the courtyard, tiny children sat on soft rugs, filling colors into their books. Their laughter rang like the tinkling of bells, and their bright smiles bloomed like fresh flowers. It felt as though they weren’t coloring the pages—but their own little worlds.

But someone was watching them from afar. Someone who did not like the innocence, the closeness, the affectionate harmony between those children.

Her anger finally snapped.

With a sharp, commanding voice, she shouted,

“Commander! Commander!”

Startled, the commander hurried toward her. In a soft, respectful tone, he asked,

“My Queen… you called for me?”

Her reply came cold and sharp.

“I told you never to enter the Ena Palace again. And I never want to see her with the young prince. Ever.”

The commander lowered his gaze and spoke quietly,

“I apologize… but the prince came to our home himself and insisted on taking Ena with him. I couldn’t refuse His Highness. It won’t happen again. I beg your forgiveness.”

Her voice grew even harsher.

“I know it will never happen again.”

After a brief silence, she continued,

“The house the King granted you near the palace vacate it at once. Move back to your own home in the town.”

Her tone carried a weight that could crush stone.

“And make sure,” she added sharply, “that the King hears nothing of this.”

The commander swallowed his pain, his voice barely audible.

“I have served you loyally my whole life. Your command is my duty.”

She turned away, leaving him standing there with years of loyalty in his heart, and the silent ache of abandoning the home he had lived in for years.

Time passed—

First weeks, then months, and finally years.

But Ena and the prince never met again.

No one knew if they still remembered each other…

or if time had turned them into strangers.

---

Twenty Years Later

Night had sunk deep into silence. The sky was empty, still, and vast no bird dared to stir the air. A chilling quietness wrapped the world, as though it was waiting for the creatures of the wind to emerge.

Suddenly, a shadow slipped toward the palace’s back gate.

A suspicious figure draped in a long black cloak moved with the speed of a light.

Somehow no one could understand how he managed to climb through a slightly open window and enter the palace.

Inside, darkness ruled. Not a whisper, not a rustle. The air itself felt haunted.

The cloaked man walked straight toward the old royal library.

It was clear he knew the palace map by heart.

Once inside, he began searching meticulously touching shelves, scanning rows of ancient books, as if hunting for something rare… something forbidden.

He opened books one after another, flipping through pages rapidly before shutting them again.

Cold sweat dripped from his palms, his breath shaky.

Fear crawled through his body like icewater—

But the terror of being caught was still not strong enough to stop him.

Then his eyes landed on a dusty box lying in the far corner.

He lunged toward it, lifted it carefully, and placed it on a nearby table.

A small button gleamed on the lid.

Driven by curiosity and desperation.He pressed it.

A terrifying stillness seized the library.

The air froze.

Even the shadows seemed to hold their breath.

The man's heartbeat thundered in his chest, loud enough to echo.

His breathing grew rough, sweat trickling from his forehead to his trembling hands.

But…

The moment the chest opened, a strange gleam flashed in his eyes. Relief unfolded across his face, a satisfied smile curving his lips. His racing heartbeat finally eased.

There it was. The very thing he had been searching for all these years.

The royal, sapphire-blue gemstone of the Ravelo de Velorin kingdom the rare stone capable of amplifying his dark magic.

Its mysterious glow filled the room, scattering golden rays across the walls. And under the spell of that enchanted light… he made a grave mistake.

He lifted the stone out of the chest.

Instantly, a crimson warning light flared through the palace. Echoes of rushing footsteps thundered from every direction. Within seconds, soldiers stormed into the library from all sides.

He panicked. His legs trembled violently as he backed away.

Among all the soldiers, one stepped forward with unmatched confidence. His voice was firm, steady, almost calm:

“I knew you would come here. Without that stone, you could never complete your magic.”

The intruder snarled, tightening his grip on the gemstone. “Don’t come any closer,” he barked. “One more step, and I’ll drop it. The stone will shatter and lose all its power. It’ll be useless to you… and to me.”

The commander stepped forward slowly, cautiously, trying to get close enough to retrieve the stone.

But the man lifted his stick and whispered a faint incantation.

A wave of magic burst through the air and in the blink of an eye, right before dozens of soldiers, the commander fell victim to the enchantment.

His body convulsed violently, as if invisible flames had wrapped around him. Agony shimmered in his eyes, the veins on his face tightening as he collapsed.

His suffering froze the entire room. No soldier dared step forward or even retreat. The magic wasn’t attacking just his body it was clawing at his soul.

Mustering courage, half the soldiers rushed to help the commander,while the others moved toward the man.

But before they could reach him, he dissolved into the air vanishing like dust carried away by the wind.

The soldiers lifted the fallen commander and rushed him to the home near the palace for treatment.

Inside the house, his only daughter stood by the window, staring down the dark, empty road waiting for her father to return.

When she saw him being carried inside in that dreadful state, her heart shattered.

She ran toward the door in a panic.The soldiers laid the commander gently onto the bed.

Tears streamed down her cheeks like pearls.Her voice trembled as she whispered, struggling to breathe:

“Uncle… what happened to my father? Why… why is he breathing like this?”

One of the soldiers replied heavily, “Child, don’t worry. I will bring the healer immediately.”

He stepped outside

But before the door even closed, a faint, broken voice rose from behind:

“I… I… Isabella…”

She spun around, terrified.Her eyes red, her voice shaking, she rushed to him.

“Yes… yes, Father! I’m here… I’m right here with you…”

“I’m here… I’m right here, Father… you will be fine. Nothing will happen to you!”Her voice trembled, yet held a fierce determination. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” Isabella whispered, her words breaking as tears clung to her lashes.

Her father gently lifted a trembling hand and placed it on her face.She immediately cupped his hand in both of hers, pressing soft kisses onto his cold fingers.

“You’ll be fine,” she whispered again, her voice fragile but steady, as if holding her world together.

With a heavy, uneven breath, he forced the words out, each syllable weighted with pain:

“Isabella… under my table… there’s a small box. Inside it… you’ll find half a map… to the place… where that sorcerer has taken the Stone of Silveryn…”

He struggled, his body tightening as he fought for another breath.

“I… always fulfilled my duty… as the commander. I promised the king… I would protect this secret.” His fading voice softened as he looked at her one last time. “You are everything to me… you must fulfill my promise…”

His sentence fell apart midway. And so did his breath.

His chest rose once slowly and then never again.

It felt as though someone had ripped the soul straight out of Isabella’s body. A raw, heart-tearing scream burst from her.

“Father… Father! You can’t leave me! Please… please come back! Father!”

Her cries echoed through the night, carrying the ache of a shattered world.With broken breaths and burning eyes, she stayed beside him until dawn immersed in a grief that would cling to her for the rest of her life.

The Map of Vengeance

The sun rose as it did every morning, and the birds sang their usual melodies. But for Isabella, this morning was different. This day was far worse than any nightmare she had ever imagined.

Her father the man who had raised her almost alone, the man who had filled every empty space so she would never feel the absence of a mother was gone.

She stood by the window, lost in the memories of her childhood how her father had taught her to read and write, how he had handed her a sword when people said a girl shouldn’t touch one, how he had turned her into someone strong enough to stand alone.

And then it struck her his last words, whispered in agony.

The box.

She rushed to her father's room, heart pounding. Dropping to her knees, she searched beneath the table.

Her fingers brushed against a wooden box.

She pulled it out without hesitation and opened it.

Inside were two envelopes one large, one small.

She opened the larger one first.

Inside lay half of a torn map a map leading from the kingdom of Rusiyaara de Luminel all the way to the Cave of Tilsamghar, a desolate, forbidden place.

The very place the sorcerer had taken the enchanted stone.

She set aside the larger envelope and reached for the smaller one. Her breath caught for a moment.

Her father’s trembling handwriting covered its front and beneath it, the name of his old friend Marco, along with his address.

As she stared at the envelope, clarity settled over her heart like a blade finding its sheath.

She finally understood.She knew where her journey would begin…and with whose help she would avenge her father’s murder.

The White Palace of Raviolli— The Royal Court

The king sat upon his throne, his expression carved with worry. Before him stood Crown Prince Luca Alessandro, his posture tense, his eyes clouded with the same fear that haunted the room.

A heavy silence draped itself across the court cold, suffocating, and unbroken until at last the prince spoke.

“Father… the moment I stepped outside the kingdom yesterday, the commander fell victim to the sorcerer’s spell and Razbaan escaped with the Stone of Silveryn. Now he has everything he needs to complete his dark magic.”

His voice carried a grave weight, a fear far deeper than duty.

The king exhaled slowly, the sound almost lost in the vast hall.

“We must retrieve the Stone of Silveryn,” he said quietly.

He paused, as if searching for strength before continuing. “But I cannot entrust this task to any soldier.” His eyes lifted to his son.

“I command you to go,not as a prince…but disguised as an ordinary man.”

Luca bowed his head once, resolute. “For the sake of our people, I accept whatever you command.But I have one condition.....”

A faint crease formed on the king’s forehead. He looked at his son, puzzled.

Luca’s voice deepened, heavy with years of unspoken longing.

“After I leave… you must bring ana to the palace.”

He paused, breathing through the emotion tightening his throat.

“When I return with the Stone of Silveryn and my commander’s killer I intend to fulfill the promise I made to her in childhood.”

Twenty long years of silence, loss, and hope trembled in his words.

“For two decades,” he whispered,“I have lived with only one question in my heart will I ever see her again?

Will I ever keep the promise I made to her?

I have obeyed every command you've given me all my life…but she holds a place in my heart for which I can challenge the world.”

His eyes , revealing a pain the king had always sensed but never fully seen.

King Vittorio Roman numerals looked at his sona prince a gentle smile lifted the king’s lips as he said, “You shall have what you desire, my son.”

Then, with a hint of concern, he asked, “But why will you not face her now?Why not tell her yourself?”

Luca lowered his gaze.When he spoke, his voice was soft, ashamed.

“How can I face her,” he murmured, “when I failed to protect her father?

How can I look into her eyes knowing I was not there…knowing she suffered alone… knowing she may believe I forgot her?”

The king’s smile warmed.

“She will never think that. If she ever doubts, then remember if she did not see, I saw you. I saw you ache for her all these years.”

Luca stared at his father, shocked, caught off guard by the truth revealed so easily.

King Vittorio Roman chuckled softly, then grew serious.

He handed Luca a scroll an old map.

“This will lead you to the abandoned library in Rusiyaara, the Hall of Secrets . (a mysteroius libraries) There lies a forbidden book guarded night and day. No one is permitted to touch it. But within its pages is the second map you seek the one that will lead you to Razbaan’s lair.”

Luca straightened, the fire of determination igniting in his eyes.

“I will leave tonight.”

Night had settled deep and silent, its darkness spread like a velvet cloak across the land. The moon stood proudly at its peak, casting a pale silver glow that softened the edges of the world. Under that quiet light, Isabella tied the last knot on her small travel bundle.

She wore a simple brown dress old, worn, and utterly ordinary. Inside her bundle lay only a few coins, a cream-colored dress folded with care, and above all else… the half-torn map.The map that held her father’s final hope.The map that now dictated her fate.

She stepped outside and closed the wooden door behind her, letting her gaze linger on the home that held all her memories. A strange ache tightened her chest. She didn’t know if this journey would lead her back… or swallow her forever.

On the other side of the kingdom…

The prince, too, was preparing for a journey from which he might never return. But tonight, he looked nothing like a prince.

No gleaming armor.No embroidered robes. No royal insignia.

Instead, he wore a plain cream-colored tunic, its simplicity almost startling. A brown cloth covered half his face, hiding the sharp features anyone in the kingdom would recognize. Over his shoulder hung a leather satchel carrying only a change of clothes nothing more, nothing less and a pouch heavy with coins.

Silently, he slipped out through the back gate of the palace, swallowed by the shadows of the night.

He boarded the carriage heading toward the Kingdom of Rosyara. Six or seven travelers were already seated, silent and tired from long roads. Among them, only one was a girl in a brown dress, seated tightly against the corner, trying to appear invisible.

He did not know her.And she did not know him.

She was Isabella.

There was only one empty seat left, right beside her. He hesitated… then took it.

Two strangers.Two broken hearts. Two destinies, unknowingly bound to the same road.

The carriage rattled forward. Hours passed in heavy silence until the first light of dawn brushed the sky. As morning finally bloomed, the carriage rolled into the heart of Rosyara and stopped.

Passengers stepped out one by one, until only two remained Isabella and the disguised prince.

The carriage jolted abruptly as it began to move again. Isabella, who was standing too close, stumbled backward. She collided straight into him and fell, her bundle slipping from her hands. His satchel fell too, and their belongings scattered across the ground.

Flustered, Isabella dropped to her knees and began gathering her things in a panic.

As the prince bent to help, his hand paused over a fallen piece of parchment—a torn paper. He lifted it automatically, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

The moment Isabella saw what he was holding, her breath caught. She snatched the paper from his hand with startling speed.

Her voice trembled with fierce defensiveness as she snapped, “Don’t touch other people’s things!”

Without waiting for his reply, she grabbed her bundle and hurried away, her steps sharp with anger and fear.

The prince watched her go, confused by her sudden outburst but unwilling to dwell on it. He shoved his scattered belongings back into his satchel without noticing what he had picked and turned toward his own destination.

Both walked away in opposite directions…

…never realizing they had just stepped into each other’s fate.

On the other side of the city, Isabella had finally reached the address her father had given her. A small shop stood at the far end of a narrow lane, leaning against an old, cracked wall. The wooden signboard above the door hung crookedly, its surface covered in a thick layer of dust. The door itself looked ancient its hinges rusted, its frame worn creaking softly as though it had not tasted oil in years.

Isabella knocked.

A moment later, the door opened, revealing an elderly man with gentle, tired eyes. “My child,” he asked softly, “what brings you here so early in the morning?”

Without speaking, Isabella handed him the folded paper.The old man opened it, and as his eyes skimmed the writing, his expression changed first to surprise, then to sorrow.

“Hello, my friend. I am Lorenzo Floria, your childhood companion. This is my daughter, Isabella Floria. Help her stop Razban—without ending him, the kingdoms will never know peace. And please… take care of my daughter.”

The old man whose name was Marco lifted his gaze to the girl standing silently in his doorway. A softness settled in his eyes. He stepped aside and motioned her in.

Inside, Isabella lowered herself onto a wooden chair he offered.As she looked around, she realized at once that the place was far older than it first appeared.

Dusty shelves bowed under the weight of forgotten objects rusted cups, broken clocks, cloudy glass bottles, and ancient books eaten away at the edges. A faint, lingering mustiness hung in the air.A lone bulb swung lightly overhead, flickering as though each breath might be its last.

The shop wasn’t charming… but it felt alive, like every object carried a story, a secret waiting to be told.

From a chipped metal pot, Marco poured tea into two mismatched cups.Isabella accepted hers with both hands, warmth spreading through her cold fingers.

Gathering her courage, she finally asked, “Did you know my father, General Lorenzo Floria?”

Marco settled down in the chair beside her, took a deep breath, and nodded.

“Yes,” he said quietly, “I knew him… and I knew Razban too. The three of us your father, I, and Razban were inseparable. We grew up together, fought together, dreamed together. We understood each other better than we understood our own families.”

His voice tightened with a grief that had slept for years.

“But fate,” he continued, “had its own cruel plans. Life scattered us across different lands. I was sent here, Lorenzo to Ravelo , and Razban… to the shadowed caves.”

He paused, staring at the dusty shelves.