Chapter# 4

As the sun's warm rays filtered through the window, casting a golden glow on her face, Luna lay on her bed, lost in thought. Her gaze drifted aimlessly toward the ceiling, its creamy white surface a blank canvas for her racing memories.

Rezef's words still lingered in her mind, like the faint scent of a forgotten perfume. They had stirred up emotions she thought were long buried, and now her heart ached with a familiar longing.

Her family.

The ones she held most dear.

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Luna Oleander, the firstborn of Grace Oleander and Euphemia Flanders, was a radiant reflection of her parents' elegance. Her mother's captivating beauty and her father's striking silver hair and garnet eyes had been bestowed upon her, making her a stunning amalgamation of their finest features.

At first glance, it was evident that Luna had been nurtured with love and care. Her articulate speech, poised demeanor, and vibrant aura drew people to her like a magnet. She was a bright, social butterfly, effortlessly navigating the complexities of military strategy, economic theory, and political intrigue.

In stark contrast, her younger sister Freya Oleander was a delicate, shy bloom. While Luna soared in the realm of public discourse, Freya found solace in traditional feminine pursuits: embroidery, cooking, house management, and music. Her gentle touch could coax beauty from thread and needle, and her melodious voice could charm the spirits.

The Duke, Grace Oleander, had only two daughters, but his love for them was boundless. Luna, in particular, had captured his heart with her unwavering ambition. She had always dreamed of becoming the Duchess, and Grace saw no reason to deny her that future. He recognized the fire within Luna, the spark that would ignite a brighter tomorrow for their dukedom.

Luna's early lessons in the Oleander legacy had instilled pride and a hint of arrogance. By the age of five, she had grasped the weight of their family's history, the centuries-old tapestry woven with honor, loyalty, and sacrifice. This knowledge forged her into a confident, discerning individual, choosing her acquaintances wisely.

As she blossomed into a young woman, Luna's social circle expanded, drawing admirers and sycophants alike. Those she deemed worthy of her attention basked in her warmth, while those ignored by her were often shunned by the aristocratic elite.

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Eight-year-old Luna stood tall, her silver hair cascading down her back like a river of moonlight. Her garnet eyes shone with conviction as she addressed the Emperor.

"Your Majesty, the scars of the Wisteria duchy's massacre still linger. Imagine the devastation if another pillar of Evimería empire crumbles. The wounds of the past have not fully healed, and another blow would be catastrophic."

The Emperor's brow furrowed, his voice low and measured. "What are you implying, young one..."

Luna's voice rang out, clear and unwavering. "If that pillar rebels, our empire will fracture. Commoners and nobles will take sides, and civil war will ravage our lands. The very foundations of our empire will shake."

---☆----☆---

Grace, Luna's father, chuckled, his eyes aglow with pride. "Lunaballoon, why did you speak out of turn? What if the Emperor takes offense?"

Luna's smile was mischievous, her tiny hands clasped together. "That's why I said it, Father. To remind him of his place."

Grace laughed, his hands gently tying Luna's hair into a ponytail. "You're a true Oleander, through and through. Fearless and forthright."

Euphemia, Luna's mother, listened, her expression a mix of amusement and concern. "You're spoiling her, Grace. A gentle reprimand wouldn't harm."

Grace's eyes met Euphemia's, his voice low and reassuring. "I would have, my love, but the royal family provoked her. How dare they underestimate my daughter?"

Luna's gaze met her father's, her eyes sparkling. "I won't back down, Father. Not when our empire's future is at stake."

---☆----☆---

Luna's voice echoed through the desolate forest, her cries piercing the darkness. "Mom... Dad... Freya? Anyone?" Her breath came in ragged gasps, her heart racing with terror.

She stumbled through the underbrush, branches snapping beneath her feet. The trees loomed above, their shadows like skeletal fingers reaching for her.

"Where's everyone?" she screamed, her voice shattering the silence.

But only the wind replied, its mournful sigh echoing through the forest.

---☆----☆---

Duke Bouvardia's face contorted in anguish as he confronted the knights. "What do you mean there's no trace of them left?" His bellow shook the walls.

The knights' eyes dropped, their voices barely audible. "We're sorry, sire. We couldn't find anything... or anyone."

Rezef's face twisted in rage. "Out! Get out of my sight!" The knights fled, leaving the two friends alone in their despair.

---☆----☆---

Luna's memories haunted her. She had wandered away from the camp, exploring the lake's tranquil shores. But upon her return, she found only carnage – the knights' lifeless bodies, her family vanished.

The forest, once a sanctuary, had become a tomb. The emperor's taboo had sealed its borders, trapping the secrets within.

Three years passed, each day a struggle. Luna's determination hardened like steel, forged in the fire of adversity. Nobles sought to exploit her family's disappearance, but she stood firm.

She didn't want to become the Duchess through tragedy. She longed for her father's blessing, his proud declaration of her succession.

But fate had other plans. Luna's appointment ceremony was a hollow victory, her parents' absence a gnawing ache.

The social butterfly had transformed into the Flower of Thorns – prickly, resilient, and unyielding.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she couldn't surrender to grief. Not now. Not ever.

For Luna had discovered a truth: that in the darkness, strength is forged, and that even the most shattered hearts can become unbreakable.

---☆----☆---

The soft knock on the door broke the silence, a gentle interruption to Luna's contemplation.

"Who's there?" she called out, her voice steady despite the tears that lingered.

"It's me, Damien, my lady," replied the voice from the other side.

Luna wiped away the remaining tears, her cheeks still damp. "State your business."

Damien's voice filtered through the door. "Lady Lily has sent you cinnamon pie, my lady."

A faint smile creased Luna's lips as she remembered her conversation with Lady Lily. "Bring it to my room."