Chapter 10: The Tide Turns

In Calla Veil, the chaos of recent weeks has finally subsided. The police forces sent by Operientes Solem have quelled the riots, and the floating island seems to be returning to its tranquil, polished veneer. For Sienna Veilore, however, life has taken a more complicated turn.

Her parents, once the powerful heads of House Veilore, are aging rapidly. Their once-sharp minds falter, leaving Sienna to take over the management of their vast estates and business ventures.

At first, she thrives in the role. She brokers deals, quells unrest among the workers, and maintains the family’s pristine reputation. Yet, as the weeks drag on, the thrill of power begins to fade. This wasn’t the life she had envisioned for herself.

Most days, she dreamed of Aeris, of its sprawling towers and bustling streets, of rubbing elbows with those who truly mattered. Calla Veil, despite its beauty, felt too small, too predictable. The elite of Operientes Solem lived in Aeris, shaping policy and controlling commerce. Here, she was merely the heiress of an island estate.

Sienna had found solace—or at least a temporary escape—in the dim corners of her favorite bar. It was a modest but elegant establishment, frequented by locals and the occasional visitor from the neighboring islands. Here, the whiskey flowed freely, and the distractions were plentiful.

She would sit at the bar, sipping her drink with a detached confidence that drew attention without effort. Men would approach, some bold and others hesitant, drawn by her striking beauty and the enigmatic air she carried. She rarely turned them away.

The nights blurred together. There was a man who had sailed from Aelith Shore, his hands rough from years of working the docks but his charm smooth enough to earn her attention. Then there was the visiting merchant from Iskaar Reaches, who whispered promises of adventure and luxury. And yet another night, a local artist with a melancholy edge had captured her curiosity.

Each encounter began the same way: a flirtatious exchange, a dance of glances and words, leading to a fleeting connection. Sienna indulged in these affairs with calculated abandon. They weren’t about love or even lust, really. They were distractions—momentary lapses in the monotony of her days.

But they never filled the void.

When morning came, she often woke alone, staring at the ceiling and wondering if she would ever feel something real again. The affairs were like a poorly fitting dress: flattering in the dim light of the evening, but uncomfortable and unconvincing under the scrutiny of day.

One evening, after yet another meaningless rendezvous, she returned to her room. The faint scent of cologne lingered on her skin, but it only irritated her now. She poured herself a glass of wine and sank into the chaise lounge by the window. Her gaze drifted to the bookshelf, and there it was—the fifteenth book of The Lucis Chronicles, the one she had borrowed from Calen.

Her fingers itched to pick it up, but she hesitated. She hadn’t touched it since arriving back in Calla Veil.

Now, though, something compelled her. She took the book and opened it, flipping through the pages. The familiar scent of paper and ink mixed with a faint trace of Calen’s apartment—the earthy notes of his cologne, the wood of his shelves.

A flood of memories washed over her.

Calen smiling at her over breakfast, his brow furrowed as he focused on some puzzle he was trying to solve, the way he always looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered. She remembered how he always had coffee ready for her in the mornings, how he never complained about her late-night ramblings, and how he could make her laugh with his awkward, self-deprecating humor.

And then there was the drawing.

She had nearly forgotten about it until now. The image of Calen, asleep on the couch, captured in delicate lines and shading. She had found it by accident, tucked between the pages of a book. It had been unmistakably personal, intimate in a way that made her feel… something she hadn’t wanted to confront at the time.

Back then, it hadn’t mattered. She hadn’t cared if Calen had been seeing someone else before or even during their time together. It was all casual, a fling that suited her needs. She had noticed the faint traces of another woman in his apartment—the occasional scent of unfamiliar perfume, the careful arrangement of items that didn’t belong to him. She hadn’t been blind. She simply hadn’t cared.

But now, she did.

Now, the thought of another woman—someone who had been close enough to him to leave behind such a mark—made her stomach churn. Calen had always been hers, in her mind, even if she had refused to commit to him fully. The idea of someone else claiming his attention, his affection, his time—it was intolerable.

She set the book down, her heart pounding.

“I’m being ridiculous,” she muttered to herself, standing abruptly. But the thought wouldn’t leave her.

Calen had been hers. And he still was.

The realization hit her with a force that left her breathless. She had left him, yes. She had moved on—or so she thought. But now, she knew the truth. The others—the men in the bar, the fleeting moments—they had been nothing but placeholders.

Calen was different.

She couldn’t let him go. Not truly.

And the idea of some nameless, faceless woman taking her place, sharing the quiet intimacy she had once had with him—it was unbearable.

By the time the morning light began to creep over the horizon, Sienna had made up her mind. She would return to Aeris.

She told herself it was for closure, to return the book and tie up loose ends. But deep down, she knew the truth. Calen was hers. And she wasn’t about to let anyone else take him away.