The wind swept in gently through the open windows of Celesterra's west wing, where Ahcehera stood before a sprawling map table lit by the soft glow of amber lanterns. She traced her fingers over the borders of the eastern coast—Rohzivaan's last location before his letters ceased. There had been no word from him in weeks. Not from his builders, not from his scouts. The moonbloom seed she'd gifted him was never mentioned again. Silence had become a shadow cast over her thoughts, not loud or terrifying, but persistent. A weight that pressed against her ribs during quiet moments.
Still, she did not panic. Rohzivaan was not the boy he had once been—reckless, angry, ruled by vengeance. He had become a man who understood consequence, who sought redemption not through grand declarations but through daily choices. She reminded herself of that when doubt whispered. Even so, she tasked her most discreet envoy, a sharp-eyed woman named Velline, to follow his trail quietly and report back.
