In the Eye of the Storm

The dim glow of the oil lamp flickered in the living room, casting long, swaying shadows across the stone walls. Outside, the town lay unnaturally still. There were no guards at the windows, no sounds of the usual nighttime patrols. The silence pressed against the walls like a living thing—thick, suffocating, wrong.

Meghan stood in the center of the room, unmoving. Her cloak was still dusted with the cold ash of the outside air, her face pale, drawn tight with the kind of tension that meant something terrible was unfolding. Yet in her eyes—beneath the panic—burned a grim determination.

Thea followed her in, heart pounding, her footsteps hesitant. She had always known her mother to be composed, unshakable even in times of tension. But tonight… something had changed.

"Why aren't there any guards?" Thea asked, glancing warily around the empty room. "Where is everyone?"

Meghan didn't answer at first. She turned toward the fire and reached into her cloak, pulling out a sealed parchment. Its edges were worn, the seal cracked in places, but it radiated importance.

"Thea," she began, her voice quiet but sharp. "I need you to listen very carefully."

There was something in her tone that chilled Thea—something that said this isn't training, this isn't politics—this is survival.

"I want you to leave this town. In seven days," Meghan continued. "You must head east, to a place called Firstlight. There, you'll find a man named Aeon. You'll give him this letter. Everything he needs to know is written inside."

Thea's brow furrowed. "But… we could send a messenger. Or go together. You're talking like—like we're at war."

Meghan met her eyes. "Because we are."

Thea blinked. Her mind tried to process the words, to reason them away, to dismiss them as exaggeration. But her mother's expression told her everything. No softness. No illusions. Just cold, hard truth.

"We're trapped," Meghan said, voice tightening. "The town is surrounded. Completely. No one gets in, no one gets out. They've shut down every gate under the guise of 'security protocols.' But it's a lie. They're here for us."

The room tilted.

"What?" Thea asked, but her voice sounded distant, like it was coming from someone else's mouth.

"They're waiting," Meghan said. "They'll hold the lockdown for a week—enough time to weaken our allies, cut our support. And when it lifts, they'll come in force. No more warnings. No negotiations. They'll kill us both."

Thea stumbled back, as if the words had physically struck her. Her knees buckled slightly, and she reached for the back of a nearby chair to steady herself.

"No... no, this can't be happening," she whispered.

The silence in the room suddenly felt unbearable. Her heartbeat roared in her ears. Her breath grew shallow. She felt it creeping in—that cold, relentless tide. Fear.

It wasn't the kind of fear she'd known before. Not like the nerves before her sword trials. Not like the tension before a public address. This was real. Raw. Suffocating.

Her throat tightened. Her palms went clammy. It felt like the ground had disappeared beneath her feet.

"I don't know how to survive outside these walls," she muttered, barely realizing she'd spoken. "What if I fail? What if I get caught? What if they find me before I even reach the gates?"

Her mother stepped forward, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. But Thea could barely register the warmth. Her mind was spiraling, and the room felt like it was closing in.

"They'll kill everyone, won't they?" Thea asked, voice shaking. "Everyone who stays. Not just us."

Meghan didn't answer.

That silence was worse than any words. It confirmed everything. The fate of the town. The price of being royal. Of being her.

Her breath quickened further. She felt tears sting the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Not now. Not yet.

But inside, she was crumbling.

"Why me?" she whispered. "Why send me?"

Meghan exhaled slowly, the pain in her eyes now visible. "Because I can't go. If I leave, they'll follow. They'll know something's wrong. But you… you're the only one who might be able to slip past them unnoticed."

Thea shook her head. "I can't— I don't know how to do this. I'm not like you."

"No," Meghan said softly, brushing a strand of hair from Thea's face. "You're not. You're better."

Thea's lip quivered. She bit it hard, willing herself to breathe, to stand still, to be brave. But the more she tried, the more she felt the cracks forming.

"Do you remember what your father used to say?" Meghan asked gently.

Thea shook her head, barely remembering.

"He said: 'You don't need to be fearless to be strong. You just need to move—even if your legs shake.'"

Something in those words anchored her. Not enough to calm her storm—but enough to make her pause. To hold on.

Meghan pressed the letter into her hands. "We only have one chance. No secret tunnels. No magic to cloak you. No cavalry waiting at the border. They'll expect a fight. Or for us to hide. They won't expect you to walk through the middle of them like you belong."

"Walk through them?" Thea whispered. "Are you mad?"

"No. I'm desperate," Meghan said. "And desperate people find ways."

She turned, pacing the room. "They'll focus on me. On the house. I'll stir the hornet's nest, make it loud and messy. While they're looking here, you'll slip out from the south road, near the Witherwood trail. I've left markers. Supplies. One of the old merchant wagons will be waiting. You'll wear a disguise. Speak to no one. Trust no one."

Thea stared at the letter again. Her fingers trembled. The wax seal felt heavier than any blade she'd ever held.

Meghan stepped forward and held her tightly. For the first time in years, Thea let herself collapse into her mother's arms.

"I'm scared," she admitted. "I don't want to lose you."

"I know," Meghan whispered. "But you have to survive this. You must. If that letter reaches Aeon, if he keeps his word—there's a future for you. And maybe for the kingdom."

"Will you be here when I return?" Thea asked, her voice so quiet it was almost a prayer.

Meghan pulled away, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears. "I'll try."

And for the first time in her life, Thea understood what it meant to have everything ripped away. To look fate in the eyes and say not yet.

She nodded, wiped her face, and stood tall—even if her legs still trembled.

"I'll do it."

Meghan gave her a proud, broken smile. "That's my girl."

Outside, the first low rumble of thunder echoed through the sky.

The storm had arrived.