(Flora POV )
The music reached them first.
Soft, tentative notes slipping through the corridor like the memory of summer.
Flora slowed her steps before she realized she had.
Soliana bumped into her back, then retreated shyly behind her side, fingers curling into Flora’s sleeve.
Flora rested her hand lightly atop those small, nervous knuckles. Warm. Fragile. Trusting.
They moved again.
The torches lining the hallway burned low — thin flames bending under unseen drafts. The marble floor beneath them shimmered with faint ripples of reflected light. Inferna always pressed down like a weight, but today something gentler lingered. Something almost impossible.
A silhouette leaned against the wall beside a heavy oak door, one shoulder propped casually, head bowed as though listening to a prayer.
Leon.
His usual composure — taut and watchful — was loosened now. The tension drained from his frame, replaced by something unguarded. Something Flora rarely saw.
He glanced up when they approached, surprise flickering across his features. Not alarm. Not duty. Something like… wonder.
Before she could speak, Leon lifted a hand, quiet and careful, then angled his head toward the door.
The narrow gap between door and frame glowed with feather-soft light.
Flora frowned, confusion threading with a cold worry tightening in her chest. She stepped closer, Soliana following soundlessly at her heel.
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Music spilled through the opening — clearer now, bright and unafraid, a melody that didn’t belong in a kingdom built on necessity and blood.
Flora leaned forward, just enough to see.
Feathers drifted in slow spirals through a sunbeam, suspended like falling snow.
Roland and Anastasia turned in imperfect circles across the polished floor — his feet clumsy, hers light and playful, laughter silent but unmistakable. His face, usually carved from frost and restraint, was softened — not by duty, not by pain.
But joy.
Flora’s breath caught sharply.
The knot she had carried for years — fear, grief, helpless protectiveness — loosened all at once.
Her shoulders eased.
Her jaw slackened.
A small, quiet smile — the kind that stole warmth up through the chest and into the throat like a burn she welcomed.
Roland stumbled. Anastasia laughed, radiant, forgiving, dragging him back into motion. Feathers burst again from the shredded pillows, swirling around them like white petals in spring wind. They were ridiculous, and clumsy, and breathtaking.
Relief washed through Flora so quickly her knees nearly weakened.
He’s not drowning anymore. He’s breathing.
She pressed a hand against her heart, subtle enough that only she would notice.
Something flickered through her — quick and bright — a pulse of excitement she hadn’t felt in years.
Not for herself.
For them.
For Soliana.
For the future suddenly possible.
She turned away from the door slowly, carefully tucking her smile back into the composed, disciplined expression Inferna demanded of her.
Soliana looked up at her, uncertain but hopeful, eyes glimmering with reflected light from the doorway.
Flora knelt, one knee touching the cold stone.
“Soliana,” she said softly, voice steady despite the warmth rising beneath it, “would you like to explore Inferna with me? Just us.”
Soliana blinked — surprise lighting her features, sudden and bright.
Her mouth opened in a silent gasp before she nodded — small at first, then fiercely, unable to contain herself. Her fingers wrapped around Flora’s hand, clutching tight.
Flora squeezed back, hiding the tremble of quiet joy behind a practiced calm.
“Then let’s go,” she whispered.
“Let’s give them their moment.”
Leon stepped aside wordlessly, smiling in a way Flora had never seen — gentle, proud, relieved.
The music swelled behind them.
Feathers drifted across the threshold, brushing against Flora’s heels as she walked away.
Soliana squeezed her hand again.
Flora squeezed back.
And without once looking over her shoulder, she led her daughter into the light.
