The first light of dawn had scarcely touched the marble spires of Elviel Palace when the clamor began. Hushed murmurs morphed into urgent, breathless cries, and the steady rhythm of the servants' steps became a frenzied dance of silken skirts and hurried whispers. The air, usually filled with the peaceful hum of the morning, now thrummed with an undercurrent of dread.

Lydia, a maid whose chestnut hair was tightly bound beneath her headdress, pressed herself against the cool stone wall near the grand hall's entrance. The pounding of her heart threatened to drown out the noise around her. Beside her, Thalia, her closest friend and confidante, clutched a broom as if it were a shield against the unknown.

“Is it true?” Thalia’s voice was barely audible, her eyes flitting nervously to the line of royal guards marching past, their faces set in expressions as hard as their gleaming armor.

Lydia’s throat felt dry. “If Hera herself was summoned to the royal chambers, it must be.” She paused, remembering the wild fear in the elder maid’s eyes. “She looked like she’d seen an omen.”

The clink of metal announced the arrival of King Phelipus himself, his robes swishing in brisk, angry strides. His ice-blue gaze scanned the corridor with an intensity that made everyone lower their eyes. A silence heavy as stone settled over the hall as he passed, accompanied by Evander, a young guard with a reputation for unflinching composure. Even now, his jaw was tight, a muscle ticking with the effort of maintaining calm.

“Return to your stations,” King Phelipus commanded, his voice deep and uncompromising. “Until further orders, no one is to leave their posts.”

The maids scattered, feet moving before their minds could catch up. Lydia gripped Thalia’s arm and steered them down a side corridor, their hurried steps echoing on the marble. They ducked into the laundry chamber, its familiar scent of lavender and soap doing little to quell their fear.

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“Lydia, what does this mean? Where is Princess Artemis?” Thalia’s whisper trembled with the weight of the unasked question that lingered on everyone’s tongue.

“I don’t know.” Lydia stared at the floor, fingers twisting the fabric of her apron. The room stilled, save for the shouts and calls seeping through the stone walls. The word “search” rang out, each repetition a strike against Lydia’s composure.

Hera’s sudden entrance made them jump. The elder maid’s usually immaculate silver hair was awry, and her eyes, sharp with worry, seemed to search for stability. “You two, have you seen Maria?” she asked, voice tight.

“No, ma’am,” they replied, shaking their heads.

Hera sighed, the sound ragged and weary. “The King has ordered silence. If news of the princess’s disappearance reaches the people, it could mean disaster—not just for us, but for all of Elviel. The humans of Dracathea would not hesitate to seize such a moment.”

The name Dracathea sent a shiver down Lydia’s spine. Whispers of the kingdom, with its fierce warriors and cunning lords, often served as warnings in hushed bedtime tales.

“Hera, do they know who took her?” Thalia dared to ask.

“No,” Hera said, eyes narrowing. “But the King suspects treachery, either within these walls or from shadows we do not yet see.” Her gaze lingered on the crack under the door as if anticipating danger.

As Hera left, the command echoed in Lydia’s mind: Act as if nothing has happened. The thought was absurd. Yet with a shuddering breath, she reached for the pile of linen, folding mechanically, her mind racing through every rumor, every shadow that had crossed the palace in recent days.

The palace, once a haven of splendor, felt as though it sat on the edge of a knife. Every door seemed a potential entry for threats unseen. Servants whispered theories that rose and fell like sparks in the wind, and the guards checked every window and sealed every exit. A low, anxious murmur crept through the halls like a creeping tide.

Suddenly, Lydia saw a blur of motion—Maria, the maid who often attended Artemis, slipped past the laundry room, her face pale and eyes wide with something between fear and resolve. A guard trailed behind her, his brow furrowed, ushering her toward the royal chambers.

“Did you see that?” Thalia gasped. “Why was Maria summoned?”

“I don’t know,” Lydia said, eyes following Maria until she vanished around the corner. “But whatever it is, it’s not just the princess who’s in danger.”

Thalia nodded, eyes wide with the realization that today had marked a turning point from which none of them could return.

Far across the hall, in a room shrouded in tense silence, Arterios slammed his fist down on the polished oak table. His advisors exchanged wary glances, knowing that if Artemis’s disappearance was not contained, it could ignite the very war they all feared.

Outside, in the palace gardens, where serenity usually reigned, a bouquet of orchids lay scattered, their violet petals crushed beneath hurried feet—a silent casualty of the storm brewing within.

The palace could only hold its breath for so long. Soon, the trut

h would slip through, spreading like wildfire.