Sixteen Candles, Silent Tears

-- Kayla --

Kayla stood at the edge of the balcony, her arms wrapped tightly around her slender frame. The dark waves of her hair danced in the morning breeze, which carried a rare chill. It was strange—unnerving, almost—to feel cold in the Flame Empire, a land where summer ruled year-round and the sun rarely yielded. Was this what happened when one grew up in warmth? When one forgot what it meant to endure?

With a quiet breath, she lowered her arms, lifted her chin, and squared her shoulders. She hated the thought of appearing weak. Hated that even her own body might betray her resilience.

The sun rose slowly over the hills, setting the landscape ablaze in amber and gold. The warm hues reflected in her eyes—eyes that glowed like molten copper, absorbing every flicker of light more keenly than her skin ever could. Her robe, light and silky, clung loosely to her body, more ornamental than practical. Barefoot and sleepless, she stood as if carved from the very spirit of the dawn.

Sleep had been elusive again. The closer her birthday crept, the more her nights unraveled into haunted fragments. Long ago, the day had meant celebration—an excuse to be held by her mother, to feel warmth that had nothing to do with the sun. Now, it was little more than a reminder. A wound that never quite sealed.

She didn't remember much about her mother. Just flashes. A voice like a lullaby. Fingers in her hair. The scent of orange blossoms and steel. But the absence... that, she remembered all too well.

Kayla bit down on her lip, trying to will the ache away. No tears came—not anymore. There had been a time when she wept for her, night after night, until the tears ran dry. Now, there was only that dull, constant pressure behind her ribs. As if something invisible held her heart in its grip, pricking at it slowly, reminding her it was still broken.

The memories of Ceceres, of that girl who used to cry for her mother in the dark, were fading like dreams after waking. Her screams had quieted. Her sobs had dimmed. That life was no longer hers.

It belonged to someone else. Someone weaker.

She turned her eyes toward the horizon, where the sky burned brighter with each passing second.

That someone was gone.

"There you are."

The voice made Kayla flinch. She hadn't expected anyone to find her so early—especially not out here. She had climbed to the very top of Reshira's tallest tower, the blazing heart of the Flame Fortress in Liones, to spend the first quiet hours of her birthday alone. Far from her sleeping quarters. Far from the anticipation. She knew they'd start searching for her the moment the sun touched the horizon. It was her birthday, after all.

She didn't turn to look. She didn't need to.

"Kasō. How did you…?"

"You're not as mysterious and unreadable as you like to believe," came his reply.

She felt him step closer—close enough that his breath stirred the strands of hair at her neck. His presence was familiar. After all, Kayla had spent more years under this roof than in her mother's little house. But lately… something had changed. His nearness was no longer simple. It pressed against her like a weight.

Kayla turned to face him.

Her eyes, sharp and golden like a tiger's, locked onto his with unspoken warning. "You could've given me a bit more time."

As expected, Kasō stood just a breath away. His youthful face looked almost delicate in the morning light—softened by the glow that now spilled over the fortress walls. He smiled at her, perfect teeth catching the gold of the rising sun. His voice, always just a little too sweet, rang out like sugar melting on fire.

"It's your sixteenth birthday. A special day. I couldn't bear the thought of leaving you alone—not even for an hour."

His words were smooth, wrapped in affection—but they clung to her skin like smoke. There was too much intent behind them. Kayla's expression didn't shift. She didn't like being touched by fire unless she lit the spark herself.

She scoffed.

Kasō always acted as if she longed for company—when in truth, she cherished solitude more than anything. There were only a few souls she truly enjoyed being around: a handful of the other Amazons, some of the more discreet palace staff, and—above all—Brutus. Kasō was not one of them, no matter how tirelessly he tried to carve out a space in her world since arriving in Reshira. And Kayla had never understood why.

Unbothered by her coldness, he reached out and took her hand.

"Come," he said, cheerfully. "Breakfast is waiting. A proper feast."

His eyes swept over her loosely draped figure.

"Well, perhaps you should change first," he added with a sly grin. "Though I must say... I rather like you this way."

Kayla ignored the remark and brushed past him, her steps sharp and full of purpose. He was right about one thing—it was time to get ready.

She exchanged her soft silk robe for a dress made of stiffer, more structured fabric. It clung to her form, highlighting the new, fuller curves that had only recently begun to define her silhouette. The pale crimson colour gave the outfit a girlish charm—an unusual choice. Normally, she preferred practical attire: stretchable fabric that wouldn't tear when her body transformed. But today, for once, was different.

The light red brought out the depth of her black skin like flame against coal.

She studied her reflection with quiet confidence.

Sixteen.

She liked what she saw. Her limbs had grown longer, her figure more graceful. The roundness in her cheeks had faded, and her cheekbones now sat sharp and proud beneath her glowing tiger eyes. Would Brutus notice? Not today, of course—he was still away on assignment. He had left nearly half a year ago, dispatched with a unit to the southern Water Tribe. From what she had heard, his return to the Imperial capital was not expected any time soon.

The mirror reflected a sly spark in her amber gaze, shimmering out from her midnight-dark face. Her pointed, striped ears twitched slightly where they peeked from her wild curls.

Those... were the only thing that bothered her.

They had grown again—too large to hide easily.

With a sigh, Kayla reached for a few hairpins and began to twist her curls up into a loose bun, tucking the ears beneath a thick wave of locks. She smiled at her handiwork. Elegant, natural, and just concealed enough.

She was proud to be an Amazon—no question. But the attention it brought... that was another matter. People loved to call her names like "Kitty" or "Little Cat," as if her kind were housepets rather than apex hunters.

Amazons were predators. Not pets.

Not toys.

── ✧ ──

When Kayla pushed open the heavy doors to the banquet hall, a wave of rich, savoury aromas met her nose. The long, grand room had been dressed in celebration. Morning sunlight streamed through tall, arched windows—the only windows of their kind in the entire fortress. Most chambers in Reshira had only narrow slits carved into thick walls, built for war, not welcome. But this hall... this hall was different.

Today, it was alive with colour and sound.

The pale yellow sandstone from which the entire fortress was built shimmered gently in the light, giving the room a natural warmth. Reshira was born of the desert—it wore its sun-baked bones proudly. Kayla smiled faintly as her eyes wandered across the space.

The chandeliers, usually stark and cold, had been draped with flowers—red zalyden, her favourite. The wild desert blossoms clung to the iron branches like flames frozen in bloom. Seeing them here, in this pristine hall of nobles and warriors, felt surreal. Zalyden didn't grow in gardens. They survived windstorms and sunscorch. They were wild, fierce—like her.

And like her, they did not belong here.

A long banquet table dominated the room. Forged from dark steel and draped in a fabric so similar to the soft red of Kayla's dress, it shimmered faintly beneath the weight of food. Bowls of steaming soup, thick, creamy stews, spiced rice, and a glazed spit-roast pig glistened at the table's heart. Even this early, hot food was tradition. Cold meals had no place in the Flame Empire—not among its people, nor its customs.

Only one item broke the pattern of fire and savoury spice: a massive birthday cake, taller than Kayla's waist. Its glossy white frosting sparkled in the morning light, adorned with strawberries so plump and red, they looked like drops of blood. No one would believe such a cake belonged to a girl of low birth.

Kayla swallowed.

Once again, she asked herself: What am I doing here? Why was she, of all people, allowed to grow up within these walls of marble and fire? There were other Amazons in the Empire. But none of them lived in Reshira.

The answer, as always, was Brutus.

He had spared her. Carried her here. Raised her in the shadow of flame and ambition. Even as a young warrior, Brutus had risen quickly through the ranks—first at Kasō's side, then Samael's. He was now one of the high commanders of the red-black alliance, leader of the shadow elves under its banner.

Her thoughts tightened.

She owed him her life—and more. She was drawn to him like no other. Yet... she also knew what he had done. The things he had taken part in. The fire and blood of the past. How could she feel this way for a man who had helped burn a kingdom?

Because to me, he was kind... always.

But did that kindness alone justify her heart's betrayal?

"Kayla!" came a cheerful voice. "Come, sit!"

Kasō beamed at her from the head of the table, dressed in the full regalia of his rank. His black hair had been slicked back neatly, and he held his posture like a portrait—shoulders squared, chin high, eager to be admired.

Kayla forced a smile and gave him a gentle wave as she began walking down the hall.

As she moved, her eyes scanned the faces gathered at the table. Many of the top generals were still away—stationed near the southern Water Tribe. But those who remained had gathered here, at her table.

Her footsteps slowed.

Why?

Why would such powerful figures attend the birthday of a girl with no title and no bloodline?

A strange pressure stirred in her stomach.

Something was off.

Lady Nura, current commander of the Amazons and Kayla's direct superior, sat to Kasō's right—poised and perfectly composed in her deep crimson uniform. The seat to his left, however, remained empty. Just beyond Nura, Taro reclined in his chair with arms crossed. Though he looked like a shadow elf, Brutus had once told Kayla he was not one of their kind.

Still, he felt no less dangerous.

His scalp, shaven bare, revealed the pale-grey tone of his skin beneath. His eyes—icy and void—never seemed to blink. Whenever Kayla met them, a chill would crawl across her spine like invisible claws.

Further down the table, Rashid and Rohan were deep in conversation—two of the Flame Magi's highest-ranking generals. Their robes burned with fire-thread embroidery, and the faint smell of smoke clung to them like perfume.

And then—

Kayla's heart skipped.

Her posture stiffened as a cold shiver ran through her limbs.

He was there.

At the far end of the table, removed from the idle chatter and laughter of the others, sat Samael.

Though Kayla had met him before, his presence always sent tremors through the air itself. It was as if the room around him had less oxygen, as if the heat of Reshira dared not approach him. He sat still, statue-like, his expression unreadable—but his eyes...

Those pale, yellow eyes never stopped moving. 

Framed by lashes as pale as frost, Samael's stare resembled nothing human. His platinum-white hair was shaven at the sides, and the remaining strands were tied tightly into a warrior's knot. Though he wasn't looking her way, Kayla felt his gaze crawl toward her.

And then—his nostrils flared, as if he'd caught a scent. His head snapped toward her like a predator sensing prey.

Their eyes met.

A flicker. One brow raised—just slightly.

She turned away instantly.

The old whispers rang through her thoughts: He can kill with a glance. Whether myth or not, she had no intention of testing it.

Something was wrong.

All of this—Lady Nura, the Flame Generals, Taro, Samael himself—it was too much attention. Even for her sixteenth birthday. Her stomach twisted. The unease grew claws.

And it didn't help that she wasn't the only one feeling it.

The younger servants standing at the edges of the hall shifted nervously, rocking between feet, their eyes darting constantly toward Samael. Even the more seasoned staff walked lighter, spoke softer.

"Sit," Kasō said again, tapping impatient fingers on the table beside him. Kayla knew better than to make him ask a third time. His temper, once ignited, could reduce walls—and people—to cinders.

She slid into the seat next to him. Her dress rustled softly as she did.

Kasō leaned in, his voice oozing warmth. "You look beautiful, my dear."

Thank you," Kayla said, her brows slightly furrowed.

The Imperator ignored her skepticism entirely. Instead of addressing the unspoken question in her eyes, he simply raised his glass. "A toast to Kayla."

His eyes were so dark that Kayla couldn't make out where the iris ended and the pupil began. The common folk often praised Kasō's beauty, marvelling at his refined features and speaking in awe of his deep, mysterious gaze.

But to Kayla, there was only darkness in his eyes. Darkness—and a hunger for cruelty.

He cleared his throat and stared at her with even greater intensity.

"You're no longer a girl," he said, "but a woman. Your beauty surpasses that of most in our land, and your skill in battle is exemplary. You have every reason to be proud."

He raised his glass a little higher. Kayla felt a twinge of guilt for the harsh thoughts she'd harboured about him. She forced herself to smile as genuinely as she could and lifted her own glass.

Then, with a booming voice, Kasō declared, "Esperanz toya kaen ne faenzara."

The phrase—"May your flame never die"—was the central creed of the Flame Empire. It was spoken both during celebrations and at funerals, a reminder that the spirit, the flame of the departed, lives on. These sacred words were reserved for the highest-ranking person present. The room followed his lead, glasses lifted, and drank.

Kayla suppressed a cough. It was the first time she'd ever tasted alcohol. Around her, the generals spoke in hushed tones. Though it was her own birthday, Kayla felt strangely out of place, uncertain whether she should join the discussions of war and strategy or quietly eat her cake.

Just as she gathered the courage to chime in on Lady Nura and Kasō's conversation about the younger Amazons' progress, Kasō suddenly lowered his fork. Still smiling, he turned toward her again. The morning sun poured through the tall windows and seemed to vanish into his dark skin.

"To mark your birthday," Kasō said, "I've prepared a surprise or two, my dear."

He winked at her. Kayla blinked. More than this feast?

"I know you're never in the best of moods when your guardian isn't dining with us," he added in a sickly sweet tone, as if to convince the entire room that he spent his days pondering Kayla's every desire.

What a hypocrite, Kayla thought—though her cheeks flushed all the same. She hadn't realized her feelings were so transparent, even to someone as self-absorbed as Kasō.

To deflect, she tossed her curls back and replied with almost defiant sharpness, "I think you're mistaken. Honestly, I couldn't care less what Brutus—"

Before she could finish, Kasō burst into laughter. "Oh my, what a slap in the face that must be. Isn't that right, my friend?"

He laughed again—boyish and unbefitting of an emperor. The sound made Kayla fall silent. A strange premonition shot through her.

She hadn't noticed the door to the banquet hall open again.

Slowly, she turned in her chair, her orange eyes wide with shock.

And there he was.

Only a few steps behind her.

Brutus stood with his back to one of the tall windows, casting a long shadow across the hall. His tall, lean frame blocked part of the sunlight, making it difficult to see his face clearly. The light caught on his silvery hair, and his pale skin—typical for a Shadow Elf—seemed almost spectral. It was as if a ghost had appeared before her.

Kayla swallowed hard. Kasō's echoing laughter still rang in her ears.

"Brutus, I…" she stammered.

He took a step forward, and for a split second she braced herself—expecting a stern scolding for her disrespectful words. Her shoulders tensed, and she lowered her gaze, ready for the reprimand she surely deserved.

But Brutus said nothing.

Instead, he knelt down in front of her, gently took her hand in his, and lifted her chin with the other, forcing her to meet his eyes.

Most would have flinched at the sight of his partially scarred face—perhaps even pulled away in fear. But not Kayla. In his gaze, she saw nothing but warmth and sincerity.

He looked deep into her eyes and said, "One of these days, that cheeky tongue of yours will be cut out."

Then he smiled—crookedly, as always. The scar tissue on the left side of his face kept his mouth from forming a full smile, but that half-smile was genuine and soft. It made her heart skip a beat.

In response, she stuck her tongue out at him.

Brutus chuckled. It was a surprisingly light and clear laugh—unexpected from someone who had seen so much war.

Kayla shivered—not from fear, but from something much deeper. A fluttering warmth, a kind of affection she rarely felt.

He stood again and patted her thick, black curls.

"Happy birthday, Kayla."

Then he moved to take his seat on the opposite side of the table.

Kasō rose to his feet once more.

"As you all know, dear friends…"

He spread his arms wide as if to embrace the entire room.

Referring to his generals as friends had become something of a trademark for him. A calculated contrast to his father, Nokoribi, who had ruled as a distant scholar—detached from both the military and the masses. Nokoribi had reformed the country's education and culture, yes—but he had never earned the people's hearts.

Kasō wanted the opposite: to be seen as a man of the people, a warrior emperor who fought side by side with his troops.

"As you all know, dear friends…" Kasō cleared his throat and repeated, louder this time, "…our strong and loyal ally Brutus has ensured that no further threat comes from the southern Water Tribe. He led our troops to victory, and for that, we owe him our gratitude."

As he spoke, he began walking around the table, lifting his glass high. The rest of the gathering echoed his gesture, toasting in agreement.

Brutus did not smile—he merely nodded.

"But now," Kasō went on, now directly behind Brutus, "I have other plans for this fine man." He laid a hand on Brutus' shoulder.

"From this day on, Taro will be joining the forces in the south, leading our comrades safely through Shizen and into the Naka Desert, where they will regroup and prepare for what's to come."

The bald Shadow Elf smirked. It wasn't a joyful smile—it was ambitious, predatory. His sharp teeth gleamed beneath lips curled with hunger, matching the claw-like nails on his fingers.

Another toast followed, this time in honour of the proud Taro.

Kasō continued his circle around the table, launching into a speech about honour, loyalty, and the pride he held for his brave warriors.

Kayla had heard it all a hundred times before. She half-listened, her thoughts drifting back to Brutus.

What were these "new plans" Kasō had mentioned?

Would Brutus be staying in the fortress longer?

Would they finally get to spend time together?

"…which brings me to the true reason for this gathering. Dearest Kayla."

At the mention of her name, Kayla straightened with a jolt. To her surprise, she realized Kasō had already circled the entire table and was now standing directly beside her. She gave him a quick smile—an attempt to make up for the fact that she hadn't heard a word of what he'd just said. Luckily, it seemed to suffice.

Kasō returned her smile with an even broader one, his face aglow with anticipation and delight.

Please, don't let him have asked a question, she thought, forcing her expression to remain pleasant.

Then, he took another step closer—so near she could smell the sweet fragrance on him. He had clearly worn perfume for the occasion, and Kayla suddenly recognized the scent: Zalyden. He'd tried to replicate the smell of her favourite desert flowers.

And then, without warning, Kasō dropped to his knees before her.

Kayla's breath caught. If she had been standing, her own knees would have buckled beneath her—and not from joy. Every drop of blood drained from her face. She must have looked as pale as chalk.

But Kasō seemed oblivious to her shock. His radiant smile didn't falter for even a second. In fact, he nodded at her encouragingly.

"Kayla," he began, "you are now sixteen. That means you are no longer just old enough to fight or to taste the temptations of wine—you are also of age to be taken as a wife."

Her lips went dry.

Her heart pounded in her throat.

"You are the most beautiful woman I know," Kasō continued. "With you by my side, I have grown. I've watched you become the strong, unshakable Amazone seated before me now. You fascinate me like no other woman ever has."

Panic began spreading like frost through her veins. She felt it in her trembling fingertips, in the cold sweat that gathered at the nape of her neck.

"I see no one else at my side," he said. "And I believe the people will appreciate it—if I, the Imperator of the Flame Empire, take a woman of the people as my own."

Then, Kasō reached for her hand.

She knew he must feel her trembling, for he paused.

Just for a second.

Then his smile widened again, and he went on:"That is why I now ask for your hand. Here, among our friends—who can bear witness to the honesty and seriousness of my intentions—I make you a promise. I will make you the most important woman in the land… and the most important woman in my life."

The hall fell into a tense, suffocating silence.

Kayla stared at Kasō, stunned.

He wanted to take her as his wife?

Her?

Him?

If she was honest with herself, she didn't even particularly like him.

Her thoughts raced in circles. Her heart thundered with panic.

What was she supposed to do?

Kasō was her Imperator. He was her benefactor. But… marriage? Sharing his bed?

A cold sweat crept down her back.

Drop by drop, a silent plea for escape.

Anywhere else.

Anywhere but here.

No.She couldn't marry him.Someone had to get her out of here.Someone had to save her.

Kasō still looked at her expectantly, his hands clasped tightly around hers. His dark eyes bore into her, unwavering.Kayla swallowed hard. A lump had formed in her throat—thick, choking, impossible to ignore.

Desperately, her gaze darted toward Brutus.

The shadow elf had lowered his head. Of all those present, he was the only one not watching her or the spectacle unfolding at the centre of the room. Instead, his eyes remained fixed on the table, as if it held something more worthy of attention than the marriage proposal of his own ruler.

"My guardian… he…" Kayla whispered, her voice trembling.

Kasō let out a soft laugh."Your guardian?" he echoed, raising one amused brow. "Since when did you become so old-fashioned, my dearest?"

Kayla tried to respond, but her voice failed her.

"No need to worry, Kayla," Kasō said with smug satisfaction, his tone oozing with triumphant pleasure. "I've already spoken to your guardian. He gave his blessing. In fact, he's thrilled about our future together."

Kayla's breath hitched.He had already asked Brutus?

She turned back toward him. Her guardian. Her closest companion. Her… her beloved?

Brutus finally raised his head. He must have heard her say his name. Their eyes met—only briefly—but in that fleeting glance, she saw it.

Shame.

And something else.

Pleading?

It was there for the barest of moments—just a flicker—before he looked away again. Then, he gave the slightest nod. So small that only someone who knew him well would even notice.

Kayla's breath caught in her chest.

She couldn't believe it.

He had given her away.To him.To that cruel man.

Her eyes brimmed with tears. And before she even realised it, her body mirrored Brutus's movement. A nod. Faint. Unconscious. Resigned.

It wasn't an acceptance. It was surrender.

Kasō jumped to his feet and clapped his hands together with glee.

"We have a wedding to prepare!"