When Owen woke that morning, he found himself alone in his bed. A soft light barely illuminated the room. Recalling the events of the previous days, he rose suddenly, but a wave of dizziness forced him back onto the mattress. A persistent ache throbbed at the back of his head. Yet there were no visible injuries.

  He believed himself safe, certain that his father’s cruelty would not touch him. But for the first time, his father had laid a hand on him… and he had been harmed. One single motion, one single act had been enough to bring him down. His father was more merciless than he had ever imagined.

  Gathering his wits, he slowly got to his feet and left the room. A guard at the door watched him briefly before stepping aside, as if waiting for him to fully awaken. Worried, Owen ran toward his mother’s chamber as fast as he could.

  But when he arrived, the room was empty. The furniture had been restored, the space returned to its prior order, as if nothing had occurred. Yet the faint scent of his mother lingered in the air. For a fleeting moment, he thought he saw her, as though memory alone could conjure an illusion. The scene replayed before his eyes: his father holding her firmly, Owen at the far end of the room, staggering and half unconscious. The vision vanished as his father disappeared with her.

  He went in search of a handmaiden, a servant, or a guard, but the corridors lay silent, as if everyone avoided him out of fear of reprisal.

  Owen wandered through the palace, empty and unsettling, yet he found no trace of his mother.

  With a heavy heart, he returned to his room and collapsed onto his bed, sobbing, afraid he would never see her again or hold her close. Above all, he felt responsible for what had happened. If only he had been stronger… if only he had arrived sooner…

  No. If he hadn’t intervened at that moment… none of this would have happened. He should have obeyed and returned to his room: it was all his fault.

  Owen closed his eyes and fell asleep, his head aching, his eyes red.

  ???

  That night, a nightmare awoke him in a sweat, his heart hammering violently. He saw his mother ripped from his sight by his enormous father, whose gaze was cold and calculating. In the dream, his father kept insisting that he expected great things from Owen… that he could not bear a burden… that he had to grow stronger, surpass him, and soar on his own.

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  He hadn’t thought he could be shaken so easily, especially after exploring the dreams of so many others. Yet under the circumstances, he sensed a grain of truth within the nightmare…

  His heart raced and his hands were clammy as he attempted, in vain, to reach his mother with his mind. He did not know why he failed. Was it because he did not know where she was? Or perhaps she could not hear him at all?

  ???

  Ten days had already passed since his injury. During that time, he had received no news. His father had not appeared. Lessons resumed by schedule, yet his heart was not in them.

  Every evening, without fail, he tried to sense his mother’s presence mentally. Each attempt ended in failure.

  That night, however, a soft knock at the door interrupted him. He rose and invited the visitor in.

  It was the handmaiden who normally cared for his mother. Nervous, she entered, closing the door behind her and bowing respectfully.

  “Pardon me for disturbing you so late, young Prince… I just wished to ensure you are well.”

  Owen did not respond, keeping his eyes lowered.

  “I will not take long,” she continued. “I know… you are worried about your mother. She is well.”

  From time to time, she glanced over her shoulder, as though fearing someone might overhear.

  Owen then looked at her, eager:

  “Have you seen her? Do you know where she is?”

  “Yes, she is in the dungeons. I bring her meals every day, but I cannot linger.”

  “May I see her?”

  “Perhaps… if you are careful… His Majesty has been very busy and has not visited her. But remain discreet. A guard could report you.”

  “Thank you so much!” Owen said, smiling, eyes shining with hope.

  “You’re welcome,” she replied, returning his smile. “But… do not tell anyone I spoke to you of this.”

  “I promise.”

  With that, the handmaiden left the room without a sound.