“Just need to finish drawing myself…done! One picture of our family! I need to show this to Father!”
The throne room was all the way on the ground floor of the Ravenna Castello, and as she hurried down the spiralling staircases, she noticed something strange. Guards were running back and forth, their armour clanking as they shouted to one another. Some had their swords drawn, their faces hard with urgency. The castle, usually grand and peaceful, felt different—tense, chaotic.
“Excuse me! Sorry!” she called out as she weaved through the guards, slipping between gaps in their hurried formations. No one paid her much attention, their focus directed elsewhere.
As she reached the bottom of the stairwell, the girl turned a corner and nearly collided with a Centurion stationed outside the throne room. She stumbled back, clutching her drawing protectively against her chest. The heavy double doors behind the guard were shut tight—an odd sight. The throne room was rarely closed to her.
“You can’t come in,” said the Centurion firmly.
“But I need to show this picture to Father!”
The guard hesitated, shifting slightly. “You can’t do that right now.”
“Then when can I?”
The Centurion looked down at her, his face unreadable beneath his helmet, but something about his stance had changed. He wasn’t standing as rigidly as before, as if his own strength was faltering under the weight of an unspoken truth. The girl wasn’t sure what it meant, but it made her stomach twist in a way she didn’t like.
“Please,” she tried again, softer this time. “I just want to show him… I drew all of us.”
The Centurion exhaled, glancing toward the locked doors. A long silence stretched between them before he finally muttered, “Go back to your room, little one.”
That didn’t make sense. Father always had time for her drawings. Maybe he was too busy, or maybe this was a game? Sometimes, when she played hide-and-seek, the servants would tell her to go away, pretending not to know where someone was hiding. Maybe Father was doing that now. Maybe he wanted her to find another way inside?
But then—why did the Centurion sound so sad?
Something was wrong. She could feel it now. The excitement she had felt earlier was gone, replaced by an unease she didn’t understand. Why wouldn’t they let her see her father? Why were the guards acting so strangely? Why did it feel like—
“CALVUS!”
There was a yell from the throne room. It was nothing like she had heard before, a distressed, animal sound. She flinched, gripping the edges of her picture so hard the paper crinkled.
The girl didn’t know why, but her hands were trembling. The edges of her picture fluttered slightly as she held it close, staring at the doors that had never been closed to her before.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to see what was on the other side anymore.