A Promise Beyond Walls

That night, as the palace lay in silence and only the moonlight spilled across her chamber, Harmony sat by the window, her knees drawn close to her chest. The gardens where she had faced Evander earlier seemed far away now, shrouded in silver mist. Yet his presence lingered as if he stood just outside her door, his voice and gaze refusing to release her.

She pressed a hand over her heart, whispering softly into the night:

“Slowly… slowly, I will break through your walls, Evander. I can already feel it—the changes in your gaze, the tension in your stance, the hesitation in your voice. You try so hard to remain untouched, but I see the truth hidden in the smallest details.”

Her lips curled into a faint smile, tinged with sadness. The cool air brushed against her face, carrying with it the memory of his cold, unreadable eyes.

“You don’t realize it, do you? That very calmness, that guarded stillness you wear like armor… it only pulls me closer. Every time you shut me out, every time you speak with that icy restraint, I find myself wanting even more to reach the warmth I know you’re hiding.”

Her voice trembled, but her resolve did not. She leaned her forehead against the glass, gazing at the moon above.

“I know you’re different on the inside. I know there are feelings you’ve buried, emotions you’re afraid to show. Maybe… maybe that’s also part of the prophecy. Not only to guide kingdoms, not only to bridge hatred and war… but to awaken you. To remind you of the self you’ve locked away so tightly.”

Her fingers curled against the windowpane, as though grasping for something just beyond her reach.

“I’ll find you, Evander,” she whispered, her eyes shimmering with quiet determination. “Not the prince they all see, not the soldier bound to duty… but the true you. The you that waits, hidden in the shadows of your own heart.”

The room fell silent again, her vow echoing only in her own chest. Yet she felt lighter somehow, as though the moon itself had carried her words across the walls that separated them.

That same night, in another wing of the castle, Evander sat alone in his quarters. The fire in the hearth burned low, casting restless shadows across the stone walls. He stood by the window, hands clasped tightly behind his back, his posture rigid as though even in solitude he could not allow himself to relax.

His eyes, sharp and unwavering, stared into the darkness of the courtyard below. Yet what lingered in his mind was not the silence outside, but her.

“Harmony…” he muttered under his breath, the name slipping past his lips like a forbidden secret.

He clenched his jaw.

Why do I keep watching her? Why do I notice every smile, every glance, every foolish attempt to reach me?

His reflection in the window looked back at him—stern, unyielding, the mask of a prince who could not falter. He hated how fragile that mask felt tonight.

“She doesn’t understand,” he told himself firmly, as though repeating it could turn it into truth. “The prophecy isn’t a dream to be reshaped. It’s a burden, a chain. Every step I take, every order I give—lives depend on it. I can’t afford distractions. I can’t…”

Yet, despite the words, his chest tightened with an unfamiliar weight. He remembered the way she had looked at him earlier—without fear, without judgment. Those eyes… they had pierced through the walls he had built for years.

He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly.

“No. I can’t let her reach me. If she breaks through… if she sees what I’ve buried…” His voice trailed off, as though the rest was too dangerous to admit, even to himself.

A flicker of firelight danced across his face, softening his stern features for just a moment. His fingers curled tightly into fists.

“She is… dangerous,” he whispered at last, though the word felt hollow. “Not because she seeks to harm… but because she makes me want to feel again.”

The room answered only with silence, the flames crackling low, while Evander stood unmoving, a prisoner of the very walls he had built around his heart.

Meanwhile in the grand hall of the Feline Kingdom’s castle, the king, the queen, and Prince Lysar had gathered. The ceiling stretched high above them like a night sky frozen in stone, and banners bearing the sigil of star and claw swayed faintly in the dim torchlight. A heavy silence pressed down on the room, the kind that carried both tension and unspoken fear.

The king paced before the throne, his golden eyes narrowing, his tail flicking with restless agitation.

" Every plan… every single plan has failed… we have to save her… no matter what. The Dog Kingdom has her in their grasp," he growled, his voice echoing against the pillars. "The girl foretold in the prophecies… If she remains with them too long, they will twist her, turn her against us."

The queen sat with poise upon her seat, hands folded neatly upon her lap. Though quiet, her voice flowed with a softness that cut through the air like light through mist.

"Or perhaps she will find her own path—one that brings balance between us."

Lysar stood apart, near the shadows cast by the great windows. His face remained calm, but his eyes glimmered with a storm barely contained. His hand, almost unconsciously, curled into a tight fist.

"They do not understand her," he said coldly. "They would use her. We must bring her back—before they mold her into a weapon against us."

His words were steady, but inside his thoughts churned like fire.

She smiled when she spoke to the wounded… even to the smallest child. She did not look at blood or scars with fear, but with kindness. »How could they possibly see her as nothing but a tool? Harmony… she’s more than any prophecy could ever describe.«

The king slammed his hand against the armrest of the throne, the sound echoing like thunder.

"And how do you propose to do that? To storm their kingdom outright would mean war—one greater than any before!"

Lysar’s chest tightened, but his gaze remained steady.

"Then I will go alone. I will find her. Not as a prince shackled by titles… but as one who understands what the prophecy truly means to our world."

»Even if I must walk into the heart of their kingdom, even if I must cross that border alone… I’ll go. Because if I don’t, if I let her fade into their hands, then what will become of me? Of us?«

The queen’s eyes softened, though worry lingered like a shadow in her gaze.

"And what if the prophecy belongs not to us alone? What if her destiny reaches farther than even we can see?"

Silence fell again, heavier this time, echoing like the toll of a distant bell. None dared to voice the thought that hung unspoken: Harmony was no mere “weapon.” She was something far greater… though none wished to admit it yet.

Lysar drifted toward the tall arched window. The horizon stretched endlessly, shrouded in mist, with mountains looming far in the distance—the jagged border that split feline and hound lands. His chest ached with a quiet pain he could not hide.

»She wasn’t here long, and yet… she changed something in me. Her laughter, the way her eyes softened when she tended the weak… What is this feeling? Why does her absence weigh heavier than a kingdom’s fate?«

"I will not allow her to remain there," he whispered, so softly it was nearly lost in the silence. "Not for the prophecy alone… but because something within her has touched me."

The king’s sharp gaze turned upon him, voice edged with suspicion.

"Are those the words of a prince? Or of a man who has lost his reason for a girl?"

For the first time, Lysar’s eyes burned with fierce resolve, his voice breaking past restraint.

"They are the words of one who knows… that we cannot lose her."

Even if the world brands me a fool. Even if my father sees only weakness in my heart… I will not let go. Harmony… I will bring you back.

The queen’s lips parted ever so slightly. In his tone she heard something new—a tenderness, a fragile warmth she had never before known in her son. And in her heart stirred a quiet realization: Harmony had touched not only their fate, but Lysar’s very soul.