An embarrassingly long ti ago. Like, several centuries before, during the continent unification war led by the kingdom of Eldris—
The world had already started falling apart before the little girl began to run. Cities used to burn far away, their smoke pained the sky gray. But those never affected her; she had been kept safe and unaware... until now.
What used to be streets full of people were now piles of rubble and dead bodies no one cared about. Blood and soot covered everything from the land to the rooftops.
The very air carried a pungent sll of ash and blood. Even the wind seed to be grieving. It whispered through the broken forests and empty hills, carrying the echoes of screams that had already faded into the afterlife.
Through this dying world overrun by war ran a child.
Her na was Elara — Princess Elara, from the royal family of Lys. A small but significant country of peace and prosperity that monsters avoided like a plague, and the place where several trade routes converge, still to this day..
Once, her shoes had been polished until they shone, and servants had followed her wherever she went. Now, she ran barefoot, her dress torn and dirty, her small feet bleeding with every step.
In her hand, she clutched sothing far too innocent for this broken world — a single piece of candy wrapped in pink paper. It was a trivial thing, fragile and sweet, and she held it as if it were the most important thing in her delicate little life that lasted for eight years.
The trees pressed close, black and wet under the rain. Behind her, shouts cut through the air — n calling to one another, their boots slapping against the mud. They were hunting her. She didn’t know their nas, only that they wore the colors of those who had killed her family.
Her heart beat so fast it hurt. Every breath burned in her throat and ached in her chest. But she didn’t dare stop. She did not have a destination, but she was aware of the terrible things those n would do to her.
She could still see Liora’s face — her nursemaid, her only friend in the castle. The last person who had hugged her. Liora had happily pressed the candy into her palm before everything went wrong.
"Run, my little moon," she’d said softly, handing her a necklace. "Keep this with you, no matter what happens."
Elara had tried to say sothing back, but her voice was lost behind the door as Liora pushed her into the passage. There had been shouting, steel striking steel. Then the scream. The kind that never fades, no matter how many nights pass.
The locket had long been lost, but the candy felt warm in her hand. She wanted to eat it as soon as it was handed to her — a desire to taste that tempting sweetness — but she never did. The trees snatched the locket away from her neck as soon as she entered the forest, and a wrinkled wrapper beca the only valuable thing she was left with.
With her mind frayed with exhaustion, she prayed to every god she knew by na and those she didn’t. She wanted them to hear, to accept her prayers. She begged to be seen, pleaded to be spared, to be torn from the hands of n who had turned their backs on the divine.
The forest grew darker as she ran. Her vision blurred from tears and exhaustion. The roots caught her feet, the rain stung her skin, and her body ached like it was made of broken glass. Sowhere along the way, she fell hard, her knees scraping against stone. She stayed there for a while, crying quietly with her face buried in the mud, the candy pressed against her chest.
She wanted to stop running. She wanted to see her mother. Her father. But she knew the cruel truth — they were gone... and would never co back.
When she finally forced herself up, she saw sothing through the mist — a shape of stone, aged and forgotten. The passing of ti reflecting on its surface — it was a temple, half-swallowed by vines, the roof cracked, the walls leaning as if ready to collapse. The doors were wide open.
Her ripped dress wrapped around her legs as she got up, preventing her from walking. With the tiny scrap of strength she could muster, she ripped apart the torn yet beautiful silk.
Slowly, and without much of a choice for her destination, she limped inside, clinging to a quixotic hope that those n might never find her inside it.
The air was cold and heavy with dust. Faded symbols marked the walls, and in the center stood a stone altar. Maybe this place had once been holy. Maybe it still was.
Elara tried to climb the steps to the altar, but her strength was nearly gone. She crawled the last few feet, trembling, her breath shallow. Her hands slipped on the smooth stone, and when she finally reached the top, she couldn’t go any further.
She lay down, cheek against the altar’s cold surface. Her small hand loosened. The candy slipped out and rolled away, stopping beside her face.
Sothing strange happened then. A soft glow spread from the candy’s wrapper — weak at first, then brighter. It painted the cracks of the stone in gold light, spreading like veins of warmth through the temple. The vines outside blood, the rain slowed to a whisper, and for a brief, fragile mont, the world didn’t look broken anymore.
By the ti the n arrived, the rain had started to ebb. They entered quietly, tightening the grip on their weapons. The temple was broken yet captivating; it had beco a part of the forest and its listless silence.
On the altar lay the princess. Her eyes were closed and her face calm. She wasn’t running anymore. Her hand rested near the candy wrapper, which neither glowed nor had the warmth when it was still in her hand.
The n didn’t speak. There was nothing to say.
Outside, the storm had passed. Morning light drifted through the trees, slid across the temple stones, and lingered on her still face.
Beautiful, as in sleep. And for a mont, it almost looked like the world was mourning her.
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