The Weight of Silence
The sun had climbed higher now, hanging pale and rciless above the shattered capital. Its light spilled across the courtyard like molten gold, burning against the white stone stained dark by blood. The sounds of battle had begun to fade—no more clashing steel, no more shouts of dying n—just the quiet scrape of armor, the soft murmurs of soldiers tending to the aftermath.
Leon stood in the courtyard's center, his cloak stirring in the faint wind. Around him, the air still carried the ghost of heat from his last fight—the scorched ground where his magic had torn through the rebellion's heart. The scent of ash clung to everything, sharp and heavy.
Beside him, Natsha stood silent. Her bob-cut hair frad her face, her black eyes reflecting the broken sky. She looked thinner in the sunlight, smaller sohow, as though grief had carved sothing out of her.
The wind stirred again, carrying faint echoes of movent from the ruined gates.
Three figures appeared through the haze—Captain Black, Captain Johny Ronan, and Nova. They moved with the weary rhythm of survivors, their cloaks torn and armor dented. Blood streaked their faces, their gauntlets sared with dust and smoke, yet there was still strength in the way they walked.
They crossed the courtyard slowly, boots echoing against the stone.
Leon turned his head slightly as they approached. Nova was the first to reach him. Her long black hair, usually glossy and immaculate, was now tangled and matted with sweat. Faint bruises marked her cheek and neck, but her green eyes burned bright as ever.
When she stopped before him, she gave a tired but proud smile. "Darling," she said softly, voice hoarse. "We cleared everything. The last of the rebels have been taken care of."
Leon's expression softened. He raised a hand and brushed a streak of soot from her cheek, fingers tracing the faint bruise beneath her eye. "I know," he murmured.
Nova leaned into his touch for half a heartbeat, her breath trembling as she closed her eyes. Then she straightened and stepped aside as Captain Black and Johny bowed low.
"Lord Leon," Captain Black said, his voice rough from shouting. "The northern district's secured. Few stragglers remain, but nothing that'll threaten the city's stability."
Johny nodded, adjusting the blood-streaked strap on his shoulder. "Our forces are regrouping, my lord. Losses were heavy… but the capital stands."
Leon gave a slow nod. "Good work. Both of you. See to your n. They'll need rest before dusk."
They bowed again and stepped back.
From the palace archway, another group erged—Alina, her silver-trimd armor marked with soot, flanked by two guards. Her usually flawless hair was disheveled, a dark braid slipping loose over her shoulder. Even so, she carried herself with quiet authority, her stride steady despite the exhaustion.
When she reached Leon, she bowed deeply. "My lord," she said, her tone calm but weary. "The palace interior is clear. We've secured the throne hall. The surviving nobles are under guard."
Leon's gaze held hers for a mont, then he nodded. "Well done, Alina."
For the first ti since morning, sothing like relief flickered through her eyes. "It's over, then."
He shook his head faintly. "Not yet. There's still one more thing."
Her brow furrowed slightly. "My lord?"
Leon turned toward the shrouded body lying near the center of the courtyard—Natly, the fallen queen, Natsha's sister. The white cloth covering her fluttered faintly in the wind.
"After the gathering," Leon said quietly, "I want a formal burial prepared. A queen deserves that much."
Alina blinked in surprise, then straightened and bowed again. "As you command, my lord."
Before she could turn, he added, "Alina—make it ceremonial. Perfect. No matter what she did in life, she'll leave this world with honor."
The captain hesitated, a brief flicker of emotion softening her usual composure. "Understood."
Leon's gaze lingered on her, his voice low. "You don't have to watch if it's too much."
Natsha shook her head, voice barely above a whisper. "No… I want to."
Leon nodded once, then turned back to Nova.
"Please," he said simply.
Nova's eyes softened. "For you, I'll do anything."
He smiled faintly at that—tired but sincere. "I know."
Nova turned, calling softly to Alina. "Co with ."
Alina gave a brief nod. "Yes, Lady Nova."
Together, they walked toward the palace doors, their footsteps echoing through the ruined courtyard. The two won passed through the smoke and sunlight, disappearing briefly beyond the archway.
Leon stood silently beside Natsha, watching them go. The wind rustled the hem of his cloak.
For a while, there was only quiet—the kind that followed after every storm. The soldiers around them moved slowly, tending to the wounded, cleaning the square, raising fallen banners.
Then, from the palace gates, Nova and Alina returned. Behind them ca five maids—Fey, Rui, Mona, Lena, and Mira—each dressed in mourning black. Their faces were solemn, their eyes lowered. Between them, they carried a massive casket, six feet long and crafted of dark oak bound with silver edges.
The weight of it seed to press the air itself. Every soldier in the courtyard turned to watch. Even the wind seed to hush.
Nova and Alina walked ahead of the pallbearers, guiding them toward the center where Natly's body waited. The maids moved with reverence, their footsteps slow and deliberate.
Leon's jaw tightened slightly as he watched. There was sothing sacred in the stillness of that mont—the kind of silence that only the dead could command.
He turned to Natsha. Her hands were clenched tightly together, her breath uneven.
"This is your mont," he said quietly.
She nodded faintly, though her eyes never left the approaching casket. The sunlight caught on her tears as she exhaled shakily. "I thought I was ready," she whispered.
"No one ever is," Leon replied.
When the maids reached them, they lowered the casket gently beside the shrouded body. Nova gave Leon a small nod.
"It's ready."
Leon looked to Natsha, who stood frozen, her lips trembling. For a second, she looked as though she might break. Then she exhaled, long and trembling, and took a single step forward.
The white shroud fluttered once in the wind, then went still again.
Natsha knelt beside it, her voice soft as she spoke. "Sleep well, sister. The world took enough from you."
Her shoulders shook. Leon placed a hand on her back, silent but steady. She didn't turn to look at him—she didn't need to.
She knew he was there.
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