The following days passed in a haze of tension and fear, with Nia barely able to shake the memory of Ash's presence. It gnawed at her, a constant whisper in the back of her mind, urging her to question everything she thought she knew.
Each time she entered the chambers to prepare the medicinal bath for Ash, she steeled herself, pushing aside the memories of the boy she had once known—the boy she had loved. But that boy no longer existed. The Ash she cared about had been replaced with a ruthless general, a tool of the empire, whose very name had become a symbol of the regime's cruelty.
Yet, when she knelt beside the tub on the fourth night, the familiar steam swirling around them, something inside Nia stirred. Ash sat in silence, his scars gleaming in the dim light, his form weary from th
