The Winter Prophecy

When morning came again, it felt like two days had passed. No one would complain. The court needed to rest to recover from their hangover, and the royal family longed to forget the recent events.

"Good morning!"

Agatha, Haya's lady-in-waiting and closest friend, burst into the room and jumped onto the princess's huge bed. Haya smiled faintly at the sight of her.

"What are you doing?" Haya curled up under the covers. "It's freezing."

"Don't you want to get ready for your ceremony, future Queen of Akrida?"

Haya's eyes widened at the words. It was today. Her big day. She had waited all year for this moment, and not even the arranged marriage that would take place in a few hours could dampen her excitement.

"I'm going to be crowned, aren't I?"

There was fear in those words, but also expectation. The two friends locked eyes and Agatha grinned, mirroring Haya's joy. They jumped and squealed like children. Haya had rarely been able to act her age - she had always been an adult trapped in a child's body.

"Yes! Are you ready? Shall I call the maids?"

"Of course."

Haya looked at her paintings, her diaries, her vanity. They were parts of her identity. That was her greatest fear - to lose herself after marrying someone so different from her, someone she didn't love.

"Shall we begin, Your Majesty?"

Five maids entered, carrying fabrics, creams, and luxurious trinkets. Everything seemed under control until Haya's eyes landed on the white dress hanging nearby.

"Yes."

Her wedding was to take place two hours after the ceremony of the book. Tonight would be her last night alone, in her room, in her bed, surrounded by her things. Leonay had already begun to move into the south wing of the palace where they would live together. The day was bound to be full of conflicting emotions. The mere thought of the prince sent a wave of fear through her.

"The messenger asked me to give you this, Princess."

"Thank you."

She flipped through a few letters, immediately recognizing most of them as excuses from the dukes to justify their absence. She glanced over them disinterestedly - until her fingers brushed against a worn envelope with faded ink.

Her name was written on it, accompanied by a small sketch of a sparrow.

"Where did this come from?"

Her hands shook as she picked up the paper.

"I don't know, Your Majesty. Arthur gave it to Lady Agatha."

"Agatha!"

She called to her friend, who was chatting casually with a footman.

"Agatha!"

Her nerves took over, making her voice sharper than she intended. The maids tending to her jumped in surprise.

"I need you."

"Haya, what's wrong?" Agatha noticed the way her hands were shaking, the glint in her eyes. "Are you all right?"

"Where did this letter come from?"

"I...don't know."

She could tell that Haya was on the verge of tears.

"Haya, it's just a letter from a duke. What's so special about it?"

"Everyone, leave." Her voice was hoarse, thick with unspoken emotion. "Now!" She didn't scream at the maids, but in the midst of her distress, the command came out louder than intended.

"Haya, look at me." Agatha watched as her friend paced back and forth, clutching the letter. "I'm here. You can trust me."

It could have been the overwhelming emotions of the day, but Haya knew the real reason.

It was the drawing.

Agatha took the letter and studied it, still confused.

"This is my grandfather's drawing, Agatha. He made this."

Her lady-in-waiting frowned.

"Haya, that's impossible."

Agatha tried to reason with her, thinking her friend's rationality had momentarily slipped away.

"No, only he drew this. He used to call me 'Little Sparrow.' I know his lines-I'm sure."

"Have you read it? It could just be a coincidence."From the way Haya clutched the letter, Agatha could tell she hadn't found the courage yet. "I'll read it for you."

"No, leave me alone. I want to read it myself, please."

Haya wiped her face and caught her breath. Reluctantly, Agatha nodded and stepped outside.

With trembling hands, Haya unfolded the paper.

And the moment she saw the handwriting, she knew.

It was her grandfather's.

The ink, the strokes, the countless tiny sparrows etched into the margins - there was no doubt.

When she finished reading, fresh tears streamed down her cheeks.

Pérez had announced her father's death years ago, and Haya had grieved for months. Aidan was the only one who really understood her, the only one who treated her like a real child. He played with her, read stories to her and allowed her to live in an enchanted world.

She wanted to cry more, to grieve all over again. But wiped her face. She could no longer be a caged bird.

"Hello..."

A voice pulled her out of her thoughts. Turning, she saw her future husband standing at the door.

"Hi." She quickly dried her tears and walked over to him. "Do you need anything?"

"No, actually..." He frowned, studying her carefully. "Have you been crying? Haya, listen - I don't want this marriage either."

Legitimately concerned, he took her hands in his.

"But I promise I will never do anything to hurt you."

Of all the ways she could have responded, she chose to laugh.

"Thank you." She squeezed his hands tighter. Maybe they could really be friends. "You know, you're not the worst husband in the world."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

They laughed together, a shared moment of reluctant camaraderie.

But while Haya was caught up in her emotional whirlwind, her father was fighting his own.

Pérez had not closed his eyes all night. The hours had dragged on, each passing minute dragging him deeper into exhaustion. As he sat in the throne room, the dark circles under his eyes were prominent. Theoretically, the problem was solved. Silas had spoken to Orpheus, who would cast a spell to ensure that only the kings and five noble witnesses would be present in the throne room for Haya's ceremony. She would sign the book - but only as an illusion.

"Your Majesty?"

One of his advisors entered and answered his summons.

"Klaus, yes, I sent for you. I need advice."

He was no longer smiling. His condition was pitiful, but he didn't care. Soon he would drink a potion and hide behind the same false composure as always.

"How can I help?"

Being an advisor was a miserable job. Pérez had thirty of them, and they all despised the position. It was impossible to advise a king who hid information and asked for guidance in half-spoken riddles.

"What does an advisor do, Klaus?"

The more exhausted he became, the sharper his sarcasm.

"Right. My apologies."

"The situation is this: If there is something preventing the kingdom from prospering, should I do everything in my power to stop it?"

"What exactly do you mean by 'everything,' Your Majesty?"

"What I love most, Klaus."

"You love it more than the kingdom?"

The words hung in the air, choking him.

Haya was his family. He had already lost his wife. He had buried his father the day he announced Aidan 's death to the kingdom.

"Thank you, Klaus. You may go."

"At your service, Your Majesty."

Klaus thought no advice had been given. But he would soon realize the weight of those words.

Time had slipped away from them all. The hours that had dragged on the night before now seemed to race by, slipping through their fingers.

Haya took a deep breath and took in the scene before her. She was dressed in a flowing golden gown, her makeup heavy, erasing her natural features under layers of powder. She hadn't had a chance to object. Even her hair had been altered - tied back, stripped of its curls. The woman staring back at her in the mirror was a stranger, someone Agatha and Pérez wouldn't even recognize.

She stepped into the noble gallery, expecting to find a prepared ceremony, but the hall was empty.

"Excuse me..."

She called to a passing servant.

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"Where is everyone? Shouldn't the ceremony be ready?"

For a moment she wondered if she was dreaming. She had dreamed of this day so many times - both as a fantasy and as a nightmare.

"The ceremony will no longer take place here, Your Majesty. The King has ordered it to be held in the throne room, with only a few selected guests."

"But the ceremony has always been held here."

Her father had not told her of any changes. The memory of Aidan resurfaced in her mind. Her grandfather had always been devoted to tradition.

"Send word to the attendants. The book and the holy relics will be taken to the balcony."

"But, Princess-"

"We will not change the ceremony," she said firmly. This was to be her moment. Nothing would take it away from her. "As your future queen, can you do that?" She tried to use an authoritative tone, but the words brought a smile to her lips.

"Of course, Your Highness."

The servant returned the smile.

Meanwhile, the palace and kingdom stood ready to welcome their new ruler.

Pérez was prepared, as always. The royal mantle draped over his shoulders, his robes studded with jewels, and the crown shining more brightly than gold itself. He remembered twenty years ago when he had stood where Haya stood now. He had won the war and been crowned king.

He had won the war and been crowned king.

To solidify his rule, the people and allies of the kingdom had demanded that he sign the sacred book to prove his legitimacy. He had proclaimed countless times that he was the rightful ruler of Akrida, groomed for the throne since birth.

But when the moment came, the book would not open.

Orpheus had created an illusion of greatness to deceive the court. Unlike the sacred scriptures, the city gates had not opened, the palace doors had remained closed, and the Book had not yielded to him.

But the people never knew.

Magic had obscured the truth, and now the lie had to be repeated.

Victorious, Pérez stepped out of his chambers, confident that everything was in place. Every piece was in place for the deception to unfold seamlessly.

Then he heard it.

The Herald's voice echoed through the corridors:

"Princess Haya Ethel of Akrida!"

Pérez allowed himself a brief smile at his daughter's announcement. But it vanished the moment another sound overtook the herald's call.

A thunderous noise.

A wave of cheers and applause.

A collective euphoria that shook the castle walls.

"Where... where... where did that come from?"

Pérez turned sharply to a nearby guard, but the answer came from another direction.

"The gallery," a messenger hurried toward him, breathless. "The princess has requested that the ceremony take place on the palace balcony."

His world collapsed beneath his feet.

Ignoring the herald's summons, he stormed to the balcony.

As he emerged, a sea of people stretched before him, pressing against the gates of the fortress he had built. His heart pounded.

The citizens burst into cheers at the sight of their king. But the longer he stood there, the paler he grew.

"Father?"

Haya watched him anxiously.

"It's just... the excitement. Please, continue the ceremony."

Esteban, standing beside his wife and son, beamed at the scene.

Pérez looked for Orpheus, but the wizard just shook his head.

There was no way to manipulate reality with so many eyes watching.

"The sacred texts say," King Malgar of Meraki spoke first. As he began his speech, the crowd fell silent. "Whoever is worthy to open the book shall rule the kingdoms of Akrida. The lands surrounding Akrida depend on the kindness, strength, and wisdom of their ruler."

"The king who opens this book must have a pure heart," Esteban continued, repeating the words inscribed around the sacred tome. "As do you, Haya."

The princess smiled.

Her father could barely catch his breath.

"A ruler must be a leader the people respect and desire," declared King Elumas of Beruma, unaware that his own territory would soon fall."Pérez? Pérez, it's your turn," someone nudged the silent king.

"He... He is..."

Pérez scanned the crowd, his daughter, the sea of expectant faces.

"The king... The king is..."

He knew what was about to happen.

And he was afraid.

"Dad?"

Pérez made his choice.

In that moment, he chose what was most important.

"He who is worthy to open the book is honest," his voice trembled. "He is honest with those entrusted to him. He is the only one worthy."

The people raised their voices as one:

"Princess, open the book!"

Haya stepped forward.

The sacred tome shimmered in the sunlight, its golden pages more brilliant than the crowns on the heads of the assembled rulers.

And as her fingers brushed the cover, the unexpected unfolded.

The impossible.

Fate reached those who did not seek it.

Death found those who expected it.

Freedom came to the heart that had fled it.

And the choice - the one that seemed long lost - suddenly became real.