That night, Aria fell asleep gently, lulled by the warm breeze of a summer evening.
The children's laughter still echoed in her memories, and the light of lanterns still danced beneath her closed eyelids.
Then—silence.
And a scent.
The scent of black roses.
---
She stood in an unfamiliar clearing, bathed in an unreal moonlight.
Everything felt still, calm, almost sacred.
By the edge of a quiet river, she saw a lone figure sitting.
His dark hair fell loosely over his shoulders, his black cloak trailed behind him, and his distant gaze was lost in the reflection of the water.
Aria stepped closer, slowly.
Her heart was racing—but without fear.
— "It's you…" she whispered.
The figure flinched. He stood suddenly, ready to vanish into the wind.
But Aria reached out and took his hand.
He froze.
— "Wait… don't go."
— "Let me go," he breathed, as though afraid of himself.
But she came closer… and without knowing why, she embraced him.
He—the cursed king, the solitary predator—stood motionless.
His eyes widened.
A breath escaped him. A murmur, older than time:
> Chains break with a breath so light,
A stolen moment—nothing holds tight.
I reach for the fragile glow I see,
All dissolves in a vanished plea...
His voice trembled like an ancient hymn, like a lost vow.
But the moment was too deep. Too real.
He gently pushed her away—almost sorrowfully.
— "Who are you, really?" Aria asked, her eyes shining.
He hesitated.
Then, for the first time in centuries, he answered:
— "Wilfred… Liam Wilfred."
And in a breath of shadows, he vanished.
---
Aria opened her eyes, her heart pounding.
The room was dark. But she did not tremble.
She sat up, clutching the sheets to her chest…
And in a breath, almost a prayer, she whispered:
— "Wilfred…"