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That night, as peace settled over the island and the chaos of the last few days began to ebb away like the retreating tide, the world around them felt different—quieter, softer, as though it too had exhaled after holding its breath far too long. The stars blinked above like ancient witnesses, and the gentle hush of waves brushing the shore echoed through the trees.

Inside a modest tent at the edge of the temporary camp, Nivera sat alone for a while, letting her fingers trace the rim of a cup of tea that had long gone cold. The glow from the lantern above flickered with the breeze, casting trembling golden light across her pale skin. Her thoughts were scattered, not chaotic—just full. She had seen more in the last few weeks than she had in a lifetime—battles, betrayals, divine revelations, and moments of unimaginable vulnerability.

And at the center of it all was him.

Valerian.

He had changed. Or perhaps, she was finally seeing the parts of him he had kept hidden. The cold, stoic king