"Kael," she whispered again.
He didn't respond right away. He couldn't.
His back was to her, gaze fixed on the open gates of the sanctuary. Just beyond them, an army of robes and steel waited in disciplined silence. Paladins in gleaming armor stood in neat rows. Priests in ivory robes whispered incantations of blessing. And at the center of it all sat the gilded carriage—sun-emblazoned, silk-draped, pulled by white steeds that had been brushed and braided as if this were a coronation.
And in a way, it was.
Seraphina's coronation.
But not with a crown.
With a cage.
Kael clenched his jaw as she called out again—her voice a soft thread laced with confusion.
"Kael?"
He turned, finally.
She stood at the archway behind him, dressed in a pale cream cloak stitched with silver stars, her small hands clutching the edge of the stone wall like it could stop time. Her golden curls had been brushed, her shoes shined. She looked every inch the sacred child they claimed she was.
But her face was not divine.
It was frightened.
She stepped closer, eyes wide. "Why do they keep staring at me like that?"
Kael crouched in front of her, reaching out. "Because you're special, little star."
She frowned. "You always say that when you don't want to answer."
His heart cracked again.
She was only five. But her eyes read lies like books.
"I asked you five times already," she whispered. "Why are we leaving the garden?"
Kael took a long breath, his hands gently cupping her shoulders. "They want to keep you safe."
"But I am safe," she insisted, pointing behind her. "The garden has all my trees. And the ivy wall. And the lily pond. That's where the frogs sing."
He smiled faintly. "I know."
"Do they not sing at the new place?"
Kael swallowed hard. "I don't know."
She tilted her head. "Then I want to stay here."
He wanted to say yes.
He wanted to scoop her up and run—not into the waiting carriage, not toward that glittering temple—but away. Into the woods. Into the old world. Where no one would call her holy, and no one would turn her into a god.
But they'd find her.
They always found what they feared most.
Seraphina looked toward the open gates. Her small hand slipped into his.
"Can I say goodbye?" she whispered.
Kael blinked back the sting in his eyes. "Of course."
He followed her through the sanctuary one last time.
First, they went to the willow tree.
She whispered to its trunk, tiny hands pressing against the bark. "You were the first to bloom," she said. "You're the one who told me spring was real."
Kael stood silently, hand resting on the hilt of his blade. His thoughts flashed back to the day she first named it, clumsily braiding daisies into its roots.
Then, the rose bush. The one that only flowered when she sang.
She didn't sing this time.
Just kissed a single petal and let it fall.
Next was the fountain where the doves nested. Two fluttered down and landed on her shoulders without fear. She giggled, but it was quieter now. Faded.
"They're all watching, you know," she said, glancing up at Kael. "Even the ants."
He smiled. "They love you."
"Will they miss me?"
"Every single one."
She reached up and touched his cheek.
"Will you miss me?"
Kael's throat closed.
"I'll never stop," he whispered, and gently patted her head. "And don't worry, little star. I'll never leave you."
She offered her hand and tugged him gently toward the cliff path. His eyes stung as he realized where they were headed.
They walked slowly to the grave.
Aveline.
She hugged the cold stone. Kael felt his emotions choking him, so he looked away. She stayed there for a while—only Aveline and the wind knew her words. Then she stood up, her eyes misty, and ran to Kael.
They walked toward the waiting crowd, her gaze still on the grave, her small hand waving goodbye.
By the time they returned to the gates, the crowd had grown still. Their eyes were on the little girl who now hid behind Kael's legs.
Kael could feel it in the air—that charged reverence that came before rain or war. The priests bowed as she passed. The paladins stood at perfect attention. Even Omel, waiting near the carriage, inclined his head.
But Seraphina only looked for Kael's hand.
She found it. Held tight.
The carriage door stood open.
The steps were gilded.
Kael lifted her gently, holding her as long as he could.
"You'll be right there, right?" she whispered. "When we get there?"
He nodded, forehead pressed to hers. "Always."
She looked out at the crowd. "They look weird at me. I don't think they like me."
Kael smiled bitterly. "They will."
She hesitated. "And if they don't?"
"Then I'll remind them," he said with a quiet smile.
A pause.
"One of the priests over there told me I'm a god. I don't want to be a god," she whispered, eyeing a priest in the front.
Kael pulled her in close, held her one last time. "Then just be you. Let them make their temples. You keep your garden in your heart."
She nodded slowly, face buried in his neck.
He helped her into the carriage.
She sat at the window, small and fragile, looking out at the only home she'd ever known.
The door shut.
The horses stirred.
Kael stepped back as the procession began.
The wind carried with it the faint sound of bells.
And the garden behind them fell silent, save for the soft rustle of petals stirred by her absence.