It has bren a few minutes since she left but the scent of Foxy's tears still lingered in the wind.
I stood at the edge of the training grounds, my arms crossed tightly over my chest, as though the weight of my own bones might anchor me to the earth.
The cold wind howled around me, a mournful sound thsat seemed to echo through the very marrow of my being.
The cloak trailing behind me was more than a symbol, it was a hesvy reminder of the crown I bore, the responsibilities it demanded, and the loneliness that often came with it.
In the skies, the sun hung like a goleen coin, it's casting its pale light across the land, drawing attention to the intricate embroidery of my tunic. The mark of the Crown. The mark of the King.
But tonight, that mark felt heavier than any weight I had ever known.
I could feel the gravel beneath my boots, my own feet can't move as if the earth itself were tying me to this moment, to this scene.
