Starlit promice
The wind whispered across the tall grass of the Hill of Whispers, where two children playing.once carved their initials into an old oak tree.
kael, prince of Virellen, and elira, princess of Caer Thorne, weren’t supposed to be friend. Their kingdoms had been enemies for centuries, and their parents barely tolerated the peace treaty that bound them.
but here, far from royal halls and judgmental eyes, Kael and Elira were just two hearts learning how to beat as one.
Kael laughed as he chased her through the wildflowers, his golden hair catching the last kiss of sunlight. Elira spun toward him, her dark curls whipping around her face, eyes shining.
"Swear it again," she said, breathless.
He took her hand, pressing it to his chest. "I swear—when we grow up, I’ll ask for your hand. Not for peace. Not for duty. Just for us."
Elira smiled, her voice barely a whisper. "And I’ll say yes. Even if the stars fall from the sky."
laughing and playing , elira and kael promised to together in future.
The morning after their promise, the world changed.
Elira was dragged from sleep by cold hands and the sharp clink of armored boots. Her handmaiden wept silently in the corner as Queen thariel , her mother, stood tall and furious at the foot of her bed.
“You will never play with him again,” the queen said, voice like ice. “The boy is a threat to our bloodline. His kingdom will not steal yours through charm and lies.”
She was nine years old , still clinging to dreams and sunlit fields. “He’s not like them. He’s—”
“He is exactly like them,” her mother hissed. “And you will forget him.”
She was locked in the eastern wing of the palace, where the sun never reached. Her letters were burned. Her oak-etched locket was taken. Her windows faced only the cliffs.
Across the border, Kael fared no better.
The King of Virellen, grim and battle-scarred, stood before his son with the fury of generations behind his eyes. “You think love will unite us?” he spat. “Her people poisoned your uncle. They raided our farms, stole our grain. You disgrace your name.”
Kael stood tall, though his hands trembled. “Elira is not her people , she is my friend.”
“Then let her fade like a dream,” the king said. “Before it poisons you further.”
Kael was sent to the war camps in the north—cold, brutal, and far from the Hill of Whispers.
That night, as snow fell across Virellen and storms lashed Caer Thorne, two hearts cried out to one another in silence. And though time pulled them apart, the memory of starlit promises burned bright in the dark.
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