Siana brushed her fingers over her father’s engraving inside the open locket. The metal was cool against her skin, its edges worn smooth from years of handling. She smiled at the easy grin etched into his face—a grin so familiar it almost felt alive. He had given her the locket on her 21st birthday, not long after returning from the war with the Altmar Empire. To the people of Crydonia, he was a legend: an orphan from the commons who had risen to the throne, a king who obliterated a centuries-old threat and brought peace to a kingdom on the brink of collapse.

But to her, he was just Dada. The man who had spent hours braiding her hair as a child because she insisted he do it, despite his clumsy fingers. The man whose laugh could fill the castle halls, who always found time to make her smile, no matter how heavy his crown felt.

She snapped the locket shut. It was her birthday today. If Dada were here, the whole castle would’ve been singing before sunrise. Her mother would’ve baked her favorite cake, and her father—grinning like a fool—would’ve woken her with that silly jiggle dance he thought was so funny.

Siana’s smile faltered. A decade had passed since she was taken, yet she knew—knew—he was still searching for her. Her father wasn’t a man who gave up. He would move heaven and earth in search of her.

Her fingers tightened around the locket, the only thing they’d let her keep in this hell. Everything else had been stripped away. Her body was weak, her clothes rags, and the cold stone walls of the cell pressed in on her like a tomb. But worse still—she hadn't felt her mana in years. The cell was impervious to it, draining her of every ounce of magic, leaving her with only the cruel reality of her imprisonment.

Time had become a blur. Days—months—years? It didn’t matter anymore. The Dahmenions had long since stopped trying to break her. They no longer needed to. The relentless isolation, the hunger, the fear—each day, another layer of herself chipped away.

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But something else, something stronger than fear, kept her alive. Her hope. Her belief that Robert, her father, was out there, searching for her.

She had clung to the thought like a lifeline, keeping the memory of his voice, his smile, alive in her mind. “He’s coming,” she whispered, more to herself than anything else. “Dada is coming.”

But today, something was different.

The Dahmenions had brought her something—something she hadn’t expected. A strange, glowing sphere, dark as night, lay at her feet. She hesitated before touching it, sensing its unnatural pull. The moment her fingers brushed its surface, images exploded in her mind—flickering, shifting. She saw her father, his face twisted in agony, his tears flowing freely as he stormed away from the burning capital. He was in the shimmering glades, his sword cast aside, and then moving through the radiant forest, hiding his trail.

She saw him, living a quiet life with dryads, smiling at a baby dryad, catching fish from a creek. For a moment, she saw him free from the burden of the crown, letting the weight of his grief dissolve in the forest's peace.

But then, the image shifted.

The scene of Crydonia—rebuilt, flourishing, yet the banners of her father were missing. The capital was thriving, but without its king.

The image shifted.

It was her.

Captured. Tortured. Bloodied.

The memory ball showed a series of brutal scenes: chains cutting into her skin, dark figures laughing as they dragged her through an endless void. In one image, she was thrown into a pit, crawling, desperate to escape, but there was no escape. In the last moment, her own face stared back at her, eyes wide with terror, mouth open as though screaming for someone—anyone—to save her.

Siana’s breath caught in her throat. The ball clattered to the floor as her body went limp, the rush of memories leaving her stunned. For a moment, all she could do was stare at the glowing orb.

She had seen her father’s reaction—his grief, his defeat. His attempt to move on. But she hadn't realized that the world outside had already been moving on.

But now, it was clear: he was not coming. The hope she had held onto for so long... shattered.

He believes I am dead.

The realization crashed over her like a tidal wave. She had been waiting for a savior who had already given up.