The castle of Astoria stood majestically between the mountains and the sea, its stone walls weathered and steadfast, its towers piercing the sky. When morning fog enveloped the landscape, the fortress appeared as an island adrift among the clouds. Yet, within these grand halls, Cyrus found his thoughts often drifting to a fleeting image—a silver-blue tail slicing through stormy waters, a silhouette that had once borne him to safety.
He had inquired about that night, asking fishermen and sailors if anyone had witnessed a rescue or ventured into the tempestuous sea. But no one knew of such an event. He even visited nearby ports, searching for clues, but to no avail. Eventually, Cyrus resigned himself to the possibility that his savior was a passerby, a benevolent stranger he might never meet again.
One afternoon, as sunlight filtered into the study, a servant's casual remark caught his attention.
"Your Highness, have you heard? There's a girl at the market—so beautiful she seems a gift from the gods. But she doesn't speak."
Cyrus looked up from his scrolls, a strange flutter stirring in his chest.
That evening, dressed inconspicuously, he made his way through the bustling streets to the western market.
Amidst the crowd, he saw her.
The mute girl stood by a fabric stall, clad in a simple white dress. Her long black hair cascaded down her back, glistening with a hint of sea mist. Her features were delicate, almost ethereal; her eyes, clear as spring water, held a mix of shyness and determination. She remained silent, seemingly detached from the world around her, yet her gaze absorbed everything.
Cyrus felt his heartbeat quicken. He was certain he had never seen her before, yet she felt familiar.
As if sensing his gaze, the girl looked up, their eyes meeting briefly. A flicker of recognition passed through her expression before she lowered her gaze.
Before he could approach, a group of drunken men staggered toward her, leering.
"Well, aren't you a beauty? What's the matter, cat got your tongue?"
They reached out to grab her.
"Leave her alone," Cyrus's voice rang out, cold and commanding.
He stepped between them and the girl. With swift, precise movements, he incapacitated the men, who quickly fled.
Turning back, he found the girl watching him, her eyes filled with gratitude and something deeper. She reached out, clutching the hem of his tunic.
"Will you come with me?" he asked softly.
She nodded.
He took her hand, leading her through the now-quiet streets back to the castle.
That night, Astoria's castle glowed under the starlit sky. Servants moved quietly, still processing the prince's unexpected return with a silent companion.
Cyrus gave no explanations. He ensured she had warm water and fresh clothes, personally escorting her to a guest chamber.
He should have left then.
But he lingered at the doorway, watching her through the partially open door.
She sat by the window, now clean and dressed in a soft white gown. Her damp hair shimmered, and the moonlight cast a gentle glow on her features.
She turned, meeting his gaze. A shy smile played on her lips, as if she had known he was there all along.
Unable to resist, Cyrus entered the room. He approached slowly, kneeling before her and taking her hand.
"You remind me of moonlight drawn from the sea," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her hand.
She blushed, lowering her gaze.
He gently embraced her, feeling her initial tension melt away as she leaned into him.
After a moment, he asked, "May I call you Lia? Here, it means 'daughter of the sea,' a name for someone as free and beautiful as you."
Tears welled in her eyes as she nodded, burying her face in his chest.
Cyrus held her close, whispering her new name.
"Lia."
His Lia.