The Masked knight

Chapter 1 Elara's pov Looking at my family and seeing the pain in their eyes, I knew I couldn’t be selfish. Even if this wasn’t what I wanted, at least I could do this for them that’s what I told myself. How delusional I had been. Aerion sat at the table, pale as the morning light, his fingers trembling as he tried to tie his boots. He wasn’t built for the battlefield, not with those soft hands and the lungs that failed him every winter. Still, he tried to smile at me. “You don’t have to do this, Elara,” he said. “They’ll find out.” “They won’t,” I lied. “And if they do, it’ll be too late for them to change their minds.” Our foster mother stood by the doorway, her face tight and unreadable. I always thought she didn’t care much, but that morning her eyes glistened when she pressed the old locket into my hand. “Keep this close,” she whispered. “It’s yours by right, though you don’t yet know why.” I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to know. Sometimes it’s easier to walk into danger blind. When she left the room, I stood still for a long moment. My gaze drifted around the small space that had been my world the dent in the wall where Aerion threw his wooden sword, the c***k in the window that hummed when the wind blew, the tiny corner where I used to hide whenever I got scolded. Every inch of it held pieces of me. The smell of home. The sound of safety and peace. I wanted to stay. Just one more sunrise. But when I closed my eyes, I saw my family’s faces again their tired hope, their silent prayers and I knew I couldn’t. Some goodbyes don’t need words. You just walk away and hope the universe understands. So I went instead of Aerion. I bound my chest, cut my hair, and put on the uniform that didn’t belong to me. The mirror barely recognized me short hair, sharp jaw, and a stranger’s eyes staring back. My name would be Elior now. When the carriage came to take me to the capital, Aerion followed, stubborn as ever. “You’ll need someone to look after you,” he said, climbing aboard before I could argue. “And the palace always needs servants.” I tried to glare at him, but all I could do was laugh. “You’re ridiculous.” “And you’re scared,” he said quietly. He wasn’t wrong. He was right in every way,I am scared. The road to the capital was long and dusty, lined with banners that fluttered the colors of the crown. Every mile felt heavier, every turn a reminder that I was heading into a world that would not forgive me if I slipped. By the time the palace gates rose before me tall, golden, and cruelly beautiful I could barely feel my hands. I tightened my grip on the locket, hidden beneath my shirt. I’d made my choice. There was no turning back .