The following morning arrived cloaked in gold, the dawn's light spilling over the spires of Solara and igniting the kingdom in a soft glow. From the eastern tower, Serah stood by her window, watching the group of three riders disappear into the horizon—her brother, Galen, at their lead. They rode with ease and laughter, oblivious to the weight that settled over her heart. She didn't wave, nor call after them. She merely watched in silence, her hand pressed lightly against the cool glass.

"May the sun guide your path, Galen," she murmured softly. "And may you not do anything utterly stupid."

As their figures vanished into the distant haze, Serah exhaled, slow and quiet. Worry was a curse she had learned to tame. She knew too well that the more one clung to fear, the more likely it was to manifest. Faith—faith was better. Faith in her brother, in his strength, in his name. The Magna blood ran fierce, after all.

With that, she turned away and resumed her duties. The day moved on like any other—reports to review, petitions to sign, letters from Solaran nobles to answer, and endless council minutes to oversee. Hours blurred into one another until the sun had long begun to sink beyond the palace walls.

By the time Serah finally left her office, the corridors were bathed in the soft orange of twilight. Walking beside her was a knight dressed in the deep crimson uniform of the Solaran Vanguard—a division above standard knights. His armor bore etched insignias of the royal guard, and the way he carried himself spoke of precision and discipline.

He was young, his sleeked-back blond hair gleaming faintly beneath the torchlight, and his sharp green eyes attentive but calm. His name was Zion Ardent—one of Serah's most trusted men.

"Sorry for calling you this late, Zion," Serah said as they turned down the grand hall leading toward her chambers.

"There's no need to apologize, my lady," Zion replied with an earnest tone. "It's my duty to serve, regardless of the hour."

Serah smiled faintly at his formal demeanor. "Still, I appreciate it." Her voice softened as she continued, "The reason I called for you is because I need you to head for the borders of Zone Seventeen and Eighteen—specifically between Darenville and Qeren. I sent my brother and a few of his colleagues there on a mission earlier today. I trust their abilities, but I'd like you to keep an eye on them… especially Galen."

Zion's brows lifted slightly, though he nodded without question.

"He's capable," Serah went on, "but also reckless. Make sure he doesn't cause trouble with the locals or do anything… well, Galen-like."

That earned the faintest of smirks from Zion. "Understood, Lady Serah. I'll make sure your brother and his team complete their mission safely—and without unnecessary chaos."

"Thank you," Serah said, stopping in front of the doors of her chamber. She turned to face him, her features softening under the glow of the lanterns. "You've always been dependable, Zion. Truly."

He bowed deeply, hand over his chest. "Your words mean much to me, my lady. I'll depart at first light. Until then, may your evening be peaceful."

"Thank you, Zion," she replied warmly, watching as he strode away down the hall before she slipped into her chambers.

Inside, the quiet was immediate and comforting. She exhaled as the door shut behind her, and without a moment wasted, she began to remove her attire piece by piece until she stood in the dim light, her body weary from the day's burden.

The bath had already been prepared by her maids—steam rising softly from the marble tub, scented with lavender oils. She crossed the chamber, letting the cool air of the room brush over her skin before stepping into the warmth of the water. The heat embraced her like a silken blanket, melting away the stiffness in her muscles.

Serah leaned back, her head resting on the smooth edge of the tub, eyes closing as the silence enveloped her. The only sound was the soft ripple of water around her as her mind drifted. She thought of Galen and his mission, of the Purebloods, of the kingdoms, of the endless cycle of politics and power that weighed down every waking hour.

Then, as if cutting through the fog of her thoughts, another face came to her—one she hadn't seen in months but could never quite forget. A face that brought both warmth and chaos to her chest. Marcus.

Opening her eyes, Serah reached over to the counter beside the tub, her fingers brushing against the smooth crystal of her comm-rune bracelet. She picked it up gently, the golden band glinting faintly in the candlelight. With a soft sigh, she tapped the rune etched with Marcus's signature emblem.

The bracelet pulsed, runes glowing faintly as it established connection. A few soft blinks later, a familiar voice broke through the crystal's hum.

"Well, well, I wasn't expecting a call this late," Marcus said, his voice dripping with that familiar teasing tone. "Did the mighty Princess of Solara miss me that much?"

The moment Marcus's voice reached her ears, a smile tugged at Serah's lips. It was soft at first, faint as the shimmer of dawn on still waters, but then it grew—warm and unrestrained—as though all the tension she'd been holding in her chest had just melted away.

She rolled her eyes, even though he couldn't see it. "Don't flatter yourself, Marcus. I was just… checking up on you. Making sure you haven't driven your father insane again."

"Oh, so you do miss me," he shot back, his voice carrying that half-smile she could almost see. "Because I'm pretty sure that's what I heard. And for the record, Billy's still alive—barely. He's fine, though. Old man still insists he can outdrink me."

Serah chuckled softly, the sound echoing through the quiet of her chamber. "You probably let him win."

"Please," Marcus said, pretending to scoff. "I'm not that nice. Though, I might've gone easy on him. Can't have my old man collapsing near the lake again. If we were in a town, I bet the kids would call him 'Sleepy Billy'."

That made Serah laugh for real this time, her body relaxing deeper into the water. "Oh gods, Marcus… you're terrible."

"Terrible? Nah, you just like me too much to admit it."

"I tolerate you," she said, pretending to sound firm but failing miserably as a grin tugged at her mouth.

"Oh, that's rich coming from the woman who looks at me like I'm the only man in the world when we're together," he teased.

Serah's cheeks burned despite herself. "You really have no shame."

"None whatsoever," Marcus said smoothly. "But I'm guessing you didn't call me just to trade insults and compliments."

She sighed softly, eyes drifting toward the ceiling as her wet hair floated lazily on the surface of the water. "You're right… I just wanted to talk. It's been a long day."

He hummed in acknowledgment. "Rough day at the office, Your Majesty?"

"You could say that," she murmured, her tone softening. "It's just the usual… endless meetings, decrees, nobles arguing over nonsense."

"Ah, the glamorous life of royalty," Marcus said dramatically. "Truly the dream. Tell me, do they at least let you have cookies during these political death matches?"

Serah giggled, shaking her head. "No cookies. Just a lot of people trying to outtalk one another."

"That sounds awful. I'm starting to think I should storm the palace and rescue you."

"Please don't," she said with a smirk. "I'd rather not have to explain why my guards are chasing a lunatic with a bad sense of timing."

"Hey now, my timing's impeccable."

"Sure, keep telling yourself that."

There was a moment of silence—comfortable and sweet. The kind where neither needed to say anything, because their hearts already filled the space between them.

Marcus broke it with a quiet sigh. "So… how's everything else? I heard about that new decree—how's that going?"

"It's… fine. At the moment," she replied, tracing her finger lazily along the rim of the tub. "I'm keeping things under control. Nothing to worry about."

Marcus hummed again, but she could tell he was listening carefully, his tone softening just a little. "You sound like you're trying to convince yourself."

"Maybe," she admitted after a moment. "But that's not all."

"Oh?"

"I sent Galen on a mission today. With his team."

"Your brother?" Marcus asked. "The momma's boy?"

"Yes. The one who drives everyone insane."

Marcus chuckled. "Sounds like my kind of guy."

Serah rolled her eyes fondly. "I don't know why, but… I just can't shake off this feeling. Like something bad might happen. It's strange. He's capable—more than capable—but… I can't help worrying."

"Hey," Marcus said gently, his voice dipping into that rare tone—calm and sincere. "You don't have to worry, Serah. Even though I haven't met him, I can tell he's just like you—strong, sharp, the type who doesn't back down when things get ugly. If he's your brother, he's got that fire in him. So, have faith in him, yeah?"

Serah's lips parted, and for a moment she couldn't find the words. His voice, his tone—it was grounding and calming. She exhaled slowly, letting the warmth of the bath and his reassurance wrap around her like a soft blanket.

"You really do have a way with words," she said softly. "Maybe you should be the one sitting in council meetings, not me."

The two went to talk for hours, their laughter and words stretching deep into the night until the clock neared midnight. Reluctantly, Serah had to end the call, knowing another long, demanding day awaited her.

When the call ended, she lingered in the quiet for a long while, letting the silence wrap around her like a soft blanket. Her heart felt lighter, her mind calmer, and the weight she carried seemed to ease—if only a little.

And as she drifted off to sleep, that lingering warmth from her talk with Marcus was all she needed to rest peacefully through the night.