The air in the grand hall thrummed with the electric charge of a storm brewing. Gabriel trapped in the storm's eye watched as the king's wrath turned the hall into a chaotic frenzy. Following the king's departure, the nobles were rushing around, desperate to avoid the upcoming turmoil. Gabriel’s own mind was a whirlwind of regret and confusion, every thought spiraling back to the terrible reality.

As his mother descended upon the dais in all her regal grace, the contrast between her composed demeanor and the surrounding pandemonium struck Gabriel forcefully. Sarah, stood by his side, her tear-stricken eyes hidden behind her hands. A fierce wave of protectiveness washed over him. He yearned to envelop her in an embrace, to shield her from the heartrending thunder his actions had conjured. But an invisible barrier held him back—He was lost, like a solitary leaf tossed in a merciless whirlwind.

“Quickly, we must leave,” his mother urged, her grip firm on their hands, an anchor in the chaos that engulfed them. Gabriel cast a last glance back at the grand hall, his gaze meeting Jessinta and Lovren’s. Shock was etched on their faces. A mirror of his own. There was something more in their eyes, a depth that reflected not only the horror of death. Guilt. A shared emotion. He knew it all too well—it gnawed at his insides, an unyielding monster he had fed with his own deeds. His intent had been to help. Instead, he had summoned forth a calamity of unforeseen proportions. If only he had heeded Tunklard’s wisdom, ‘Intent is not everything; outcome is.’

The queen led Gabriel and Sarah through the throbbing mass of bodies, her grip a tether grounding them amidst the turbulence. The normally comforting sensation of her touch felt almost painfully tight, yet it provided a glimmer of normalcy amidst the confusion.

His mother muttered, her voice barely a whisper, yet the words were as clear as a ringing bell. “Death... blood... not again,” a chilling prophecy of the destruction that has been and will be.

“I did this,” he blurted out. “It’s all my fault.”

His mother’s response was a heavy silence, a shroud amplifying the enormity of his admission. His sister, still caught in the throes of shock, remained motionless.

“I’m to blame,” he said, louder this time.

“Enough!” his mother said, her eyes welling up with unshed tears. “Not now.”

With a firm tug, she navigated them through the winding corridors, away from the chaos, and to the refuge of his chamber. He hesitated at the threshold, the prospect of solitude overwhelming in its intensity. Tonight, he was only a child, clutching his mother’s hand, his only lifeline against the encroaching despair.

“Let’s bring Sarah to her room first,” he suggested.

His mother, her expression indecipherable, simply nodded and tightened her grip on Sarah’s hand. The journey was brief, ending at Sarah’s chamber. Gabriel watched as his mother guided Sarah to her bed, her tiny frame almost lost in the sea of blankets. Sarah clung to her doll as if it was her only tether to reality, her hands gripping it with a desperation that pained him. His mother gently ran her fingers through Sarah’s hair, moving the loose locks of gold behind her ears.

Sarah’s once sheltered life had come crashing down. Her innocence shattered, replaced by the harsh realities of the world.

“Is he really gone?” Sarah’s voice trembled, choked with the raw pain of her loss.

“I’m sorry, my love, he is.”

“Why did father kill that man?”

His mother shared a fleeting glance with Gabriel, then turned back to Sarah, her countenance stern, yet filled with an unspeakable sorrow. “He was a bad man; it was his fault Leoman is gone.”

“He deserves to be dead then.” The vehemence in Sarah’s voice, the sudden flare of anger on her tear-streaked face, took Gabriel by surprise.

“He loved you so much,” his mother gently reminded her. “Never forget that.”

“I miss him so much.”

The queen replied, her hands softly caressing Sarah’s flushed cheeks. “I know.”

“Do you remember how he would always get me sweets? He would sneak them into my pockets, into my shoes, even into my favorite storybook. He knew the perfect place to hide them to surprise me.”

Listening to his sister’s reminiscence, Gabriel was reminded of the profound connection she had shared with Leoman. Their closeness was a fact he’d once deliberately disregarded. He had not wished to regard his brother as anything but a cruel brute who had little regard for him. But he knew he was much more than that. The knowledge seemed to sink the blade of guilt deeper into his heart, searing him from the inside out. It was a poignant pain he had been unwilling to confront. Now, with Sarah’s tears streaming down her cheeks, the dam containing his own grief shattered.

The queen nodded, a gentle affirmation in her words. “Yes, dear, I remember. Leoman loved you very much, Sarah. And wherever he might be, he always will.”

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His mother stayed by Sarah’s bed, humming a tune he recognized from their own childhood. Her voice, usually firm, wavered with the weight of their loss.

“My dear child, my precious flower, you’ll unfurl when springtime’s in view.

Winter’s chill brings forth your power, blossoming strength in both me and you.

In fall, pain like leaves will scatter, so that in summer, brightly you may shine.

Oh my sweet, with each day you smile, growing bolder.

Blooming divine, your life is my boon.”

His mother’s tears fell freely as she sang. Gabriel, cradling his head in his hands, gently swayed to the familiar lullaby.

In time, Sarah’s crying subsided, and she succumbed to the comfort of sleep. His mother gently tucked her in, planting a loving kiss on her forehead before wiping her own tears away. She gestured for Gabriel to follow her.

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In the chilling quiet of the castle’s corridors, mother and son found solace in the comforting familiarity of their entwined hands.

Side by side they walked the castle corridors, now eerily empty, as if the castle inhabitants had locked themselves away in anticipation of the unknown.

“Ma, it’s all my fault,” he said.

His admission halted his mother’s stride. She peered into his eyes, then enveloped him in a comforting embrace.

As they resumed their walk, Gabriel found himself lingering behind. “I’m responsible for all of this.”

“Walk with me.” Her hand squeezed his in reassurance.

She rapped firmly on the door of the castle’s garrison, her knock met by the startled gaze of Janus. “My queen.” he dipped his head low in a respectful bow.

Captain Jamison, surprised, promptly rose from his chair. “My queen, how may we assist you?” His bow was deeper than Janus’s, a testament to his reverence.

“Jamison, you have been a steadfast captain, guarding us loyally for many years,” she acknowledged.

“My queen, your words humble me.”

“I request guards to be stationed outside our sleeping quarters.”

A flicker of surprise crossed the captain’s face. He wiped his palm against his trousers. “My queen, you and your kin are safe within the castle’s walls.”

“I have no doubt of your protection, Jamison, but these are fraught times. The reassurance of your men’s watchful eyes would bring me peace.”

The captain straightened at her words, a determined glint in his eyes. “Your wish is my command, my queen.” He affirmed his pledge by pressing his right fist against his heart.

“Janus, assemble ten men and report back,” the captain instructed.

Janus saluted in kind, acknowledged Gabriel with a nod, and bowed to the queen before leaving to carry out his orders.

“Thank you, Jamison, you will always have my trust.”

“And you will always have my sword.” He bowed again.

With that, she turned to leave, Gabriel following in her wake. He marveled at his mother. She was the calm amidst the storm. Where each wrong move meant being struck by lightning, and a wrong decision could lead to rising tides, drowning you in sorrow.

“Are we in danger, Ma?” he asked.

“No, it’s merely a precaution,” she replied, guiding him through the castle’s echoing corridors.

Eventually, they reached Gabriel’s chambers. His hesitancy remaining, a tinge of reluctance clouding his features. Sensing his apprehension, his mother said, “I’ll stay with you.”

Gratitude softened his eyes as he nodded. “Thank you.” He didn’t want to be weak and need his mother, but he feared the darkness of solitude this night.

He settled onto his bed, his back resting against the plush velvet headrest. His words etched in guilt, “I’m the cause of this—all the death that has been and that will come. It’s all my fault.”

His mother sat beside him and regarded him. “Your actions played a role, contributed to some of the turmoil. Yet, this would have unfolded eventually, perhaps not today or tomorrow, but it was inevitable.”

“Leoman didn’t have to die, nor did the villagers. An entire province shouldn’t have to pay the price for my mistakes.”

“Loftus wouldn’t have stopped. The king would have intervened, eventually. You are not a seer, Gabriel. You couldn’t have foreseen all this. The king will realize his error. He may sacrifice a few to appease his rage, but he won’t decimate an entire province. He understands that the people, despite their fear, won’t support such a path.”

“So much death, all because of me.”

“This pain, this guilt that you’re feeling; remember it. Let it serve as a reminder of the weight of our choices. But don’t let it control you. Within you lies the potential to change things. You can’t do that if you’re too afraid to act.”

“Ma, look at the chaos I’ve caused. I can only wreak more havoc,” he said, succumbing to self-loathing.

His mother straightened, a stern expression replacing her gentle one. “Enough with the self-pity,” she admonished. His startled gaze met hers, taken aback by her sudden candor. “You didn’t drive the blade that ended lives, nor did you loose the arrow that took your brother’s. The orders were not yours; you didn’t kill those innocent souls. Remember, who did.”

“Artus will need you now. You are the Contingent Prince. I told you this before, but I will say it again. You must be more than what you are now.”

“I can’t.”

“You can and you will.”

“So many lives lost... because of me.”

His mother rose, bending down to plant a kiss on his forehead. Her hand rested on his knee, a comforting presence. “You made a mistake, but you are so young, imagine all the good you can do. Over time, you can restore the scales of life and death. No one knows the designs of fate. But life weaves a destiny beyond our comprehension. Victra’s will is unknown. Few can understand why Ash was born from her creation. But everything has a purpose, everything happens for a reason.”

Gabriel didn’t know how to react. What purpose could his errors possibly have? His mind was a storm of emotions, incapable of forming a response. His mother left him with another gentle kiss and a squeeze of reassurance before exiting the room, leaving him alone with his turbulent thoughts.

He pulled the covers over himself, seeking refuge from the inner darkness. Yet, no matter how long Gabriel kept his eyes shut, sleep remained elusive. His thoughts were plagued by what-ifs, tormented by forever lost possibilities. He vowed to correct his mistakes, to restore the balance of life and death. He pondered his future. With the king unhinged from the death of his heir, Gabriel would need to do his duty. He would learn to be a warrior, a General, so that he could protect. He needed influence. He needed to become powerful enough that others could not harm the innocent. Gabriel would become the warrior he never wished to be.

Then the sudden, discordant peal of bells fractured his relentless thoughts, sending a jolt of alarm through Gabriel. His heart pounded in sync with the echoing clamor, his breath hitched. Trouble was afoot. The bells—they were tolling.