The air in Hazel’s chambers was thick with the weight of memory and revelation.

Morning light streamed through the open window, casting a gentle glow on the delicate furnishings and thick tapestries that decorated the space.

Hazel sat across from her mother, her back straight, eyes wide and intent, holding herself together with a composure she barely felt. Fretia’s face, pale but calm, carried the scars of loss and secrets that had yet to be spoken.

Fretia took a deep breath, her gaze distant as if recalling a memory still shrouded in fog.

"It happened so quickly, Hazel," she began, her voice soft but steady. "I didn’t notice anything was wrong until it was too late. Your father—" Her voice wavered, and she closed her eyes, taking a moment to gather herself before continuing. "He took a sip of wine, and in seconds, he collapsed. His face turned pale, and he was... gone."

Hazel’s breath caught, but she remained silent, her fingers tightening on the edge of her gown.

She had heard the rumors, the whispers of what had happened that night, but to hear it from her mother’s own lips brought the grief rushing back. She swallowed hard, her eyes never leaving Fretia’s face.

"I remember feeling the sharp pain, too,” Fretia continued, her expression grim. “But instead of the death I expected, I just... drifted. My body grew heavy, and the last thing I saw before I lost consciousness was your father lying there beside me. Then, nothing."

Fretia paused, and Hazel could see the raw pain that flashed in her mother’s eyes, though she fought to keep her voice even.

Fretia’s hands, which had been folded neatly in her lap, clenched slightly as she spoke. “When I woke again, I was... somewhere else. There was the sound of the ocean—furious waves crashing against the rocks. I was on a beach, and there were human soldiers fighting with Beastfolk. They carried the mark of Drakonia—"

“The seal of Drakonia?” Hazel interrupted, her brow furrowing in shock. “Mother, are you sure?”

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Fretia nodded, her eyes narrowing as she remembered.

“Yes. I remember it clearly. I don’t know why, but our soldiers were there, clashing with them on the sands. They fought fiercely, the sounds of swords and screams mingling with the roar of the ocean. The last thing I remember before I blacked out again was a human officer pulling me from the sand... and then, darkness.”

“What happened after that?” Hazel asked, her voice barely a whisper. She leaned forward, her hands shaking, and for the first time, she felt the burn of tears at the corner of her eyes.

“When I woke,” Fretia said, “I was in a small, quiet room in Haven Town. I was weak, barely able to move, but... there was someone there, watching over me.”

“Who?” Hazel’s heart beat faster, her mind spinning with possibilities.

“Magron,” Fretia said softly, a strange note entering her voice.

“You probably already know him I’m guessing.He was sitting by the window, looking out over the hills. I didn’t recognize him at first—he looked different, better dressed than I remembered. But when he saw I was awake, he came over and said nothing, only placed a hand on my shoulder. There was... something in his eyes. Something strong and steady, a kind of... comfort.”

Hazel’s lips parted in surprise. “You’d met him before?”

Fretia nodded, a faint blush touching her cheeks as she remembered.

“Yes. Once, when your father and I had met Ren at the meadow to discuss some business. Magron was there, and I remember thinking he seemed out of place—a blunt instrument among diplomats. But that day in Haven, he was... different.”

Fretia’s voice grew softer, almost tender.

“He explained to me that I was in Ren’s villa, that I had been kept in safety while I recovered, though I was still too weak to travel. He stayed by my side for days, never leaving, until I was strong enough to be seen by the doctor.”

Hazel watched her mother’s face closely, noticing how the tension around her eyes seemed to soften, and how her gaze grew distant and thoughtful, as if seeing Magron’s face again.

“What was he like?” she asked, surprising herself with the intensity of the question.

Fretia’s eyes lit up, and a hint of a smile touched her lips.

“He was... gentle. In his own way. I didn’t expect it, not from a man like him, but he was. I asked him to follow me to Ropa, but he refused. Said that he had his orders from Ren to remain in the south, to protect something there.”

“Did that make you angry?” Hazel asked what she suspected, unable to mask the curiosity in her voice.