The morning fog clung to the outskirts of the palace grounds, veiling the distant city in a gauzy mist. Ellie walked alone along the gravel path that skirted the palace’s high walls, the air cool against her skin, the hem of her cloak trailing in the dew-damp grass. The weight of sleepless nights settled in her bones, but she welcomed the quiet, the solitude. It was a rare thing, these days.

  She slowed as she approached the wrought-iron gates that separated the palace grounds from the city beyond. It had become a habit to come here in the mornings, when the streets were still waking, when she could pretend for a little while that she was just another shadow slipping through the mist.

  But today, she noticed something different—a small group of people gathered just beyond the gates, their figures barely more than silhouettes in the half-light.

  Ellie paused, staying back in the shadows of a cypress, peering out through the bars. The crowd was not large, perhaps a dozen people—simple folk, bundled in worn cloaks and rough-spun scarves against the lingering autumn chill. In their hands, they carried tokens: candles, wildflowers, carved wooden trinkets.

  They placed these gently by the gates, arranging them in a neat line along the iron bars, as if afraid to disturb the morning stillness.

  She crept closer, her steps soundless on the gravel, not wanting to be seen. The crowd murmured among themselves, their voices just loud enough for her to catch snippets of their words.

  “...she saved my brother, she did. He’s on his feet again—never thought he’d recover.”

  “They say she saw through the false saintess, knew her for a witch...”

  “They’re calling her the Lady of Light now, did you hear?”

  The words settled in Ellie’s chest like stones, heavy and unwanted. She watched as a woman bent down, lighting a candle and placing it carefully beside the others. The flame wavered in the breeze before catching, casting a warm glow over the woman’s weathered face.

  Ellie’s throat tightened, her fingers curling into the fabric of her cloak. She wanted to turn back, to retreat into the shadows and pretend she hadn’t seen any of this. But before she could move, a small figure darted forward—a child, her woolen cap askew over tangled curls, clutching a faded flower crown in her hands.

  “Wait—look!” The girl’s voice was bright, cutting through the murmurs. She pointed directly at Ellie, her eyes wide with excitement. “It’s her! The Lady of Light!”

  The words struck Ellie like a blow, and she froze, caught in the child’s gaze. A murmur of surprise rippled through the crowd, and all at once, their heads turned. She felt their eyes on her, a weight she hadn’t prepared for.

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  The girl scrambled closer, clutching the flower crown with both hands as if it were the most precious thing in the world. Ellie forced herself to stay still, to smile—a thin, brittle thing. The girl stopped a few feet from the iron gate, holding out the crown with a shy, gap-toothed grin.

  “These are for you,” the girl said, her voice softening to a whisper, as if she feared the mist might swallow her words. “Mama says you saved us all. So I made this for you. It’s... it’s not much, but...”

  Ellie glanced at the crown—clover and dandelions, petals already wilting in the cold. She opened her mouth to refuse, to say she wasn’t what they thought she was. But then she caught the mother’s gaze behind the girl, a worn face lined with gratitude, the kind that knew suffering and had seen it pass.

  “She means it, miss,” the woman said quietly, her hands twisting in the fabric of her shawl. “We don’t have much to offer, but... it’s our thanks. For what you did.”

  For a moment, Ellie was speechless. She looked at the girl, then back to the gathering behind her—their expectant, hopeful faces. They had placed their faith in her, built it like a fragile structure out of half-truths and whispered stories. She wondered how long it would take before it all came crashing down.

  With a small, reluctant nod, Ellie reached through the iron bars and took the flower crown, her fingers brushing against the child’s cold hands. The girl beamed, her joy as pure as morning light breaking through clouds, and Ellie’s chest tightened in a way that was almost painful.

  “Thank you.” The words felt like a lie in her mouth, but she could not bring herself to deny the girl’s gift.

  The crowd began to murmur again, their voices weaving together in a soft, almost reverent hum. Ellie tried to meet their eyes, to see each person for what they were—mothers and fathers, tradesmen, children. People who had lost so much in the darkness that had swept through Lorthraine, and who now, somehow, looked to her for light.

  It should have been humbling, or perhaps heartening. But all she felt was the weight of it, settling like a stone on her chest.

  She gave the child a small, awkward smile, and the girl ran back to her mother, skipping as if the world were bright and new. Ellie watched them go, watched the crowd linger a few moments more before drifting away, back into the mist that still clung to the city’s streets.

  Ellie remained there, alone with the fading glow of the candles and the damp chill creeping through her cloak. She slipped the flower crown over her wrist, letting it dangle from her hand like a forgotten promise.

  Somewhere behind her, back in the palace, the world of mages and politics waited, with its endless demands and tangled responsibilities. But here, in this quiet corner, she couldn’t escape the gnawing fear that had taken root inside her—that this hope, this trust they had placed in her, was nothing more than an illusion, as fragile as the crown of flowers wilting in her grasp.

  She turned back toward the palace, the weight of the morning pressing down on her shoulders. But before she stepped through the garden gates, she glanced back once more at the scattered offerings by the iron bars, the pale flames of the candles still flickering in the dawn light.

  Her name drifted through the air again. “Ellie.”

  She closed her eyes, let the sound sink into her, and wished, not for the first time, that she could slip back into the shadows that once shielded her.

  But even as the thought formed, she knew she would not. The world beyond those gates would not let her.

  With a deep breath, Ellie walked back into the palace, into the light.