Two weeks passed.

  After Uriel’s cryptic promise, Nyx slipped back into her routine without question. No unexpected shifts, no whispered warnings.

  Mornings were spent in dungeons. Her blades moved cleaner now—faster, more precise. Her body had adjusted to the rhythm of battle, and she barely broke a sweat clearing raids that used to leave her limping.

  Afternoons were the library. Always the same tucked-away table. Always the same scent of parchment and old ink. She flipped through every ceremonial guide she could get her hands on, pages worn from hours of quiet study.

  And evenings?

  Bombarded by Lorienna.

  That part never changed. Lorienna had made a habit of appearing when Nyx least expected it—dragging her off for food, fresh air, or some philosophical conversation about how boring elves could be. Nyx pretended to be annoyed. She wasn’t.

  Nothing felt different.

  Until the day it did.

  It started early—before the sun had fully risen.

  At first, Nyx thought it was just a louder-than-usual merchant shouting in the square below her inn room. But the voices didn’t fade. They multiplied.

  Fast footsteps echoed through the streets. Doors slammed. Someone yelled orders. Another screamed something about the palace.

  Nyx sat up slowly, tossing the covers aside. She crossed the room and pulled back the curtain.

  Chaos.

  Actual chaos.

  Elves—usually so calm, so composed—were running in every direction. Guards shouting over one another. Delivery carts overturned. Officials from the Queen’s court rushing through the streets without their usual escort.

  It was like the entire city had snapped.

  She found Lorienna in the hallway.

  “What the hell is going on?” Nyx asked.

  Lorienna looked like she’d just rolled out of bed. Her hair was messy, her tunic only half fastened. “I don’t know. But it’s bad. Really bad.”

  They followed the commotion toward the heart of the city.

  The closer they got to the royal plaza, the worse it looked. Banners had been torn from the walls. Crates meant for the festival lay shattered across the cobblestone. Tables flipped. Lanterns shattered. The planning hall—once so pristine and carefully guarded—looked like it had been hit by a storm.

  And inside?

  Panic.

  Scribes scrambling through piles of paper. Coordinators arguing. Maps scattered across the floor.

  Nyx spotted Thalindra standing at the center of the chaos, face pale, hands shaking as she flipped through a half-ruined binder.

  “What happened?” Lorienna whispered.

  No one knew.

  Not exactly.

  But something had gone wrong.

  Very wrong.

  “We can’t let the Queen find out,” one of the planners hissed, clutching a clipboard like it could shield them from divine wrath.

  “She’ll kill us.”

  “No one touches a thing unless I say so!” Thalindra snapped, voice louder than usual but still cracking at the edges.

  “We can’t even find the main plans!” someone else shouted. “They’re just… gone!”

  Nyx and Lorienna watched from the edge of the hall.

  It was like watching a dam break.

  No one had time to ask questions. No one paused to investigate. They were too focused on fixing it.

  The ceremony was scheduled for one week from now. The date couldn’t change. The venue couldn’t change.

  And now?

  They didn’t even have the original blueprints to fall back on. No sketches. No backups. Everything was either damaged, misplaced, or erased completely.

  There was no explanation.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Only panic.

  And Nyx—watching quietly from the corner—had a feeling she already knew who was behind it.

  Uriel had said they would have no choice.

  Nyx hadn’t expected… this.

  She said nothing.

  Just stood there as the planning committee collapsed in on itself.

  And somewhere deep inside, something told her—this was only the beginning.

  Someone—or something—had completely ruined the planning hall.

  It wasn’t just damaged. It was wrecked beyond recognition.

  Tables were overturned. Lanterns shattered. Documents strewn across the floor in unrecognizable piles—some torn, some missing entirely.

  The banners, once carefully embroidered with the kingdom’s sigil, were reduced to tattered remnants.

  Nothing was left untouched.

  No one had an answer.

  Why would someone do this?

  How did they do it?

  This place was always guarded.

  Once sealed at night, no one—no one—should have been able to enter.

  And yet, it had been torn apart as if the walls had meant nothing.

  And now?

  They had to start from scratch.

  The festival was in one week.

  The date couldn’t change.

  The venue couldn’t change.

  But now, they had no plans, no schedule, nothing to work from.

  And the worst part?

  No one could even begin to figure out how this had happened.

  There was no trail to follow. No clue left behind.

  Fear settled deep into the bones of every elf in the hall.

  Not because they feared who had done it.

  But because they feared who would find out.

  The Queen.

  She couldn’t know.

  She couldn’t find out.

  If she did—

  “We need to fix this,” someone muttered.

  “Now.”

  There was no time to investigate. No time to search for answers.

  They had one goal:

  Put everything back together before it was too late.

  But no matter how fast they tried to move, they were already too late.

  The news spread like wildfire.

  And when the Queen heard—there was no stopping her.

  Her arrival silenced the entire hall.

  She wasn’t a woman of sharp edges or loud words.

  Queen Valenya of the Elven Kingdom was known for her composure, her grace.

  But her presence alone was enough to quiet even the most frantic of voices.

  She stepped through the ruined hall, her emerald-green robes trailing behind her like flowing water.

  Her gaze swept across the wreckage, her expression unreadable.

  She didn’t demand answers.

  She simply asked, “What happened?”

  The room held its breath.

  No one had an answer.

  No one knew what to say.

  A court official stepped forward, bowing deeply. “Your Majesty… we don’t know.”

  His voice was tight, strained with uncertainty.

  “There were no disturbances last night. The guards saw nothing. The doors were still sealed when we arrived.” His hands shook slightly as he gestured to the destruction. “And yet… this is what we found this morning.”

  Queen Valenya was silent for a long moment.

  Then, softly—

  “I see.”

  Her gaze drifted over the broken remains of what had once been meticulously planned arrangements.

  The officials braced themselves.

  But she wasn’t angry.

  She wasn’t yelling.

  Instead, she simply said, “Take your time to fix it.”

  The words landed like a quiet shockwave.

  No commands.

  No punishment.

  Just a calm acceptance.

  Some of the elves exhaled in quiet relief.

  She wasn’t furious.

  But still—this needed to be fixed.

  And that was when Lorienna spoke.

  Nyx didn’t even have time to react before Lorienna’s voice cut through the silence.

  “Why don’t we let Nyx plan it?”

  The entire room froze.

  Every eye turned—not just to Lorienna, but to Nyx.

  Even Queen Valenya’s expression changed.

  A flicker of amusement.

  “So,” she murmured, her sharp emerald gaze settling on Nyx, “this is the new friend you’ve made.”

  Nyx didn’t move.

  Didn’t flinch.

  Didn’t react at all.

  But she felt it.

  The shift in the air.

  The weight of every suspicion landing on her shoulders.

  The whispers started immediately.

  Soft at first.

  Then louder.

  “How convenient.”

  “The human girl just happened to be rejected… and now our plans are gone?”

  “She’s the only one with a full plan of what to do? That’s too perfect.”

  Nyx didn’t move.

  She didn’t have to.

  She already knew what they were thinking.

  And she already knew—this was just the beginning.

  Nyx had her suspicions.

  She stood near the back of the room, just watching. The way the destruction looked… the precision of it, the timing—it wasn’t random.

  Her gaze stayed fixed on the chaos unfolding around her, but her thoughts were elsewhere.

  “Uriel,” she said silently, reaching out through their connection. “Do you know anything about this?”

  No response.

  “Uriel.?”

  Still nothing.

  “Did you really do this?” she asked again, slower this time.

  More silence.

  The kind that was deliberate.

  Nyx exhaled through her nose, quietly.

  She didn’t need an answer.

  Uriel never stayed quiet for no reason.

  And she had given permission. Not knowing the details didn’t change the fact that she had agreed to let them handle it.

  So could she really be angry?

  Not really.

  But it didn’t stop the unease curling in her stomach.

  The murmuring hadn’t stopped. If anything, it was growing—quiet pockets of conversation scattered across the room, all of them focused on one person.

  Nyx.

  And yet, the Queen said nothing.

  She didn’t acknowledge the whispers. Didn’t react to the suspicious stares or the tension thickening in the air.

  Instead, Queen Valenya quietly stepped away from her advisors and walked—soft, measured steps—toward the child standing at her daughter’s side.

  The girl in the silver cloak.

  The girl with the veil.

  Nyx stood perfectly still, hands relaxed at her sides. But as the Queen approached, her posture shifted ever so slightly—alert, but calm.

  The two faced each other.

  The Queen was close enough now to truly see her. The way Nyx stood with quiet confidence. The way she didn’t lower her head.

  She’s looking at me, Valenya thought. So she can see?

  There was no judgment in the Queen’s expression. Only curiosity.

  Then, without a word, Valenya reached forward and gently pulled back the edge of Nyx’s hood.

  A collective gasp rippled through the room.

  Whispers broke out instantly.

  Because now they could see it.

  The silver hair.

  Hair like theirs.

  But she was human… wasn’t she?

  No one knew what to make of it.

  “Your hair is very beautiful, Nyx,” Queen Valenya said softly, her tone warm.

  Her hand gently patted the top of Nyx’s head—careful, graceful, almost like a mother’s touch.

  Nyx blinked, thrown off by the softness in her voice. She’d never seen someone who looked like this—majestic in every sense of the word.

  Ethereal. Serene. Powerful without ever needing to say it.

  She was… really pretty.

  “T-thank you, Queen,” Nyx stammered, quickly dipping into a small curtsy.

  It wasn’t perfect. A little clumsy.

  But the Queen’s expression softened further. She let out a quiet chuckle.

  It wasn’t mocking. It was kind.

  Then, still standing close, she asked, “I heard that you had your own plans for the ceremony. Would you mind if I take a look at them?”

  The room went silent again.

  All eyes were still on her.

  But now… everything was shifting.

  And the choice was in her hands.