The Smile Beneath the Quiet Sky

And somewhere behind them, unseen but felt, his family watched from the courtyard—Anna's gentle smile, Ben's quiet pride, and Ania's delighted whisper as she pointed toward the garden.

"Maybe," Ania said, her voice bright and light with joy, "big brother's smiling again."

Anna's eyes softened. "Yes," she murmured, a small warmth flickering in her tone. "He is."

The courtyard glowed under the mellow sunlight, the flowers bending softly in the wind. The sound of the fountain's trickle filled the air between them—a tranquil rhythm that made the moment feel almost untouched by time. Ben stood slightly apart from the others, his arms loosely crossed, eyes fixed on the distant figure of Victor and Violet beneath the garden arch. The way Victor's expression had changed—so subtly, yet unmistakably—made something stir in Ben's chest. Pride, yes. But also something heavier, quieter. Relief, maybe.

He exhaled through his nose, slow and measured. Then, from the edge of the courtyard, a faint rustle cut through the peace.

At first, he thought it was the wind again—until he caught the sound of boots on stone.

A guard emerged from the eastern walkway, moving with hurried restraint, his eyes darting between Ben and the others as though he were trying not to interrupt. His steps faltered before the final few paces, then he bowed slightly, keeping his voice low.

"Lord Ben… forgive the intrusion."

Ben's brow rose, faintly skeptical. The guard's tone carried unease. "What is it?"

The man hesitated, his eyes flicking toward Anna and Ania for half a second. "Something important, my lord," he murmured. His words stumbled—barely audible, but the urgency behind them wasn't.

Ben's expression didn't break, but something in his eyes sharpened. His thoughts raced back to the morning—those quiet conversations in the council chamber, the reports about the Moon Eagle's sighting near the border. It had been dismissed as rumor. But now, only a few hours later, another message? Another appearance?

That wasn't coincidence.

He didn't let the worry show. Not yet. Instead, he turned his gaze toward Anna. She caught it instantly—the faintest flicker of tension shadowing his calm demeanor. Her soft smile faltered.

"Ben?" she asked quietly.

He didn't answer right away. His mind sifted through the morning's words, the unease in the commander's eyes, the strange tone that lingered beneath the discussion. And now this. His gut tightened.

Finally, he exhaled. "Maybe I should go," he said, his tone measured, steady. "There's… some official matter I need to look into before the day ends."

Ania's head tilted, curious, unaware of the weight in her father's voice. "You're leaving now, Papa?" she asked, her tone innocent, her smile still untouched by worry.

Ben forced a small smile—gentle, reassuring. "Just for a little while," he said, bending down slightly to meet her eyes. "You stay here and enjoy the afternoon, alright?"

"Okay!" she said, grinning, her tiny hands clasped behind her back.

Anna's gaze lingered on him. There was something in the set of his shoulders, the slight stiffness when he straightened, that told her more than his words did. She stepped closer, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear. "Ben," she said softly, "don't stay too long."

He chuckled, low and quiet, though his eyes didn't quite match the sound. "You sound like you're worried for me."

"I am," she said plainly.

He smiled again—this one faintly crooked, but warmer. "Then I'll be careful."

Anna studied him a moment longer, searching for something in his face. "Alright," she finally said. "But at least let me accompany my daughter for a while. You handle your 'official matter'." She added the last part with a teasing lilt, though her tone betrayed the concern underneath.

Ben nodded, grateful. "Thank you."

He turned toward the guard, the shift in his posture almost imperceptible—calm composure giving way to quiet authority. "Lead the way."

The guard gave a sharp nod and stepped aside, motioning toward the corridor that led out of the courtyard.

Before leaving, Ben glanced one last time at Anna and Ania. Anna stood beneath the vine-covered archway, her hand gently resting on their daughter's shoulder. Ania waved brightly, her smile wide and untroubled, her voice echoing softly through the courtyard.

"Come back soon, Papa!"

Ben's smile softened again. "Always," he said.

Then he turned, following the guard toward the outer hall.

As they walked, the gentle clatter of boots on stone echoed faintly against the walls. The sunlight grew dimmer with each step, swallowed by the long corridor's shadows.

The garden's laughter faded behind him, replaced by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the whisper of unease that had taken root in his mind.

He didn't speak, not yet. The guard walked a pace ahead, his shoulders tense, his jaw tight. Whatever he had to say wasn't routine.

Ben's gaze lingered on the passing windows, where the sky stretched in streaks of gold and crimson—an evening that should've felt calm, but didn't. His instincts, honed by years of command and loss, told him this was more than coincidence.

The report about the Moon Eagle had been vague—an omen, a messenger, a presence unseen but felt. And now, another sign, so soon after.

Something was moving.

He kept his voice even as he finally spoke. "Tell me everything," he said quietly, his tone carrying weight.

The guard hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, my lord. It's about the sighting earlier today. The observers in the watchtower report it wasn't just a passing shadow. They claim… it descended near the western cliffs."

Ben's steps slowed slightly. "Descended?"

"Yes, my lord. And… it didn't vanish after. They said the air changed. Like it was waiting."

Waiting.

The word sat heavy in his chest.

He didn't reply. Not immediately. He just kept walking, his expression unreadable as his mind pieced together the implications. The Moon Eagle—the ancient sign tied to prophecy and storm. It never appeared twice in a day, not without reason.

Something was calling. Or warning.

And whatever it was… it was already too close.

He reached the end of the corridor, where the last rays of sunlight spilled across the floor in thin, fractured lines. His hand brushed the edge of the doorway as he paused, turning his head slightly—just enough to catch one last glimpse of the courtyard through the far window.

Anna and Ania still stood there, their figures small in the distance, framed by the soft light.

His chest tightened.

Then he looked away.

"Let's go," he said quietly.

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