In two days, Mandarine would leave the capital, and this deadline weighed on Mero like a silent storm off the coast of Sel. Yet, for tomorrow, he had planned a surprise of rare audacity, a gift he hoped would engrave itself in Mandarine's soul like a wave marking the shore. It was not a simple stroll or a piece of jewelry—he wanted to offer her the impossible, an ascent in a hot air balloon, this recent marvel that made the dreamers of the Empire vibrate with excitement. At dawn, as light timidly pierced the curtains of his room, he found her in the hallway of their inn, her eyes still sleepy but curious. "Get ready, Mandarine," he murmured with an enigmatic smile. "Tomorrow, we take to the skies—a journey through the air, a first for you, a piece of sky to share."
Mandarine blinked, then a vivid spark lit up her gaze, a fire he had seen born on the pirate island when she had first challenged him. "You're joking?" she breathed, her voice a mix of surprise and excitement. She, the daughter of the untamed seas, seemed ready to conquer a new domain, and Mero felt a deep joy wash over him—he wanted this flight to be their refuge, a memory she would carry beyond the horizons that would soon separate them. Until now, she had explored the capital from its pavements, its bustling markets, its secret gardens. But tomorrow, he would elevate her above all that, to where dreams took shape in the blue immensity.
On the morning of the flight, a light mist draped the city, veiling the outlines of the towers like a held breath. Mandarine appeared in a fluid dress, cream and pearl gray, its soft hues evoking the clouds they would soon brush against. She adjusted a light scarf around her neck, her gestures blending a discreet nervousness with a vibrant impatience—an echo of their first encounter, when she had drawn him into the dark alleys with a mischievous smile. "Is it time?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity he adored. Mero nodded, his heart beating a little faster. "Ready for the extraordinary?" he asked, his soft voice barely masking his own excitement. She inclined her head, a playful smile on her lips. "Always, Mero. You still surprise me."
He took her hand and led her out of the city, towards a vacant lot north of the school, a desolate space where the wind whispered through the sparse grass. There, under a pale sky still streaked with pink, the hot air balloon stood like a vision from a dream. The balloon, immense and alive, blended stripes of deep red, solar gold, and cerulean blue, its colors dancing in the nascent light. The basket suspended beneath it combined polished wood and delicate wrought iron, a jewel case for their adventure. Technicians bustled around, their expert hands adjusting ropes and burners, their technical murmurs lost in the breeze.
Mero stepped forward, pointing to the aerial giant with a passion he couldn't contain. "Look, Mandarine—an invention that defies the earth, that touches the sky. Today, we'll see the Empire as few have, free in the air, beyond the chains of the ground." She approached, her eyes widening at the immense canvas gently billowing. "It's... magnificent," she murmured, her voice trembling with wonder. "It looks like a bird ready to take flight."
The pilot, a man with a face marked by sun and wind, stepped forward with a confident smile. "Climb aboard," he said in a gruff voice, "the sky is clear, the wind is with us." Mero climbed in first, extending a hand to Mandarine, who grasped it with instinctive firmness. Once in the basket, the morning chill enveloped them, mingled with the scent of canvas and nascent fire. "Ready?" he asked again, gazing into her green eyes. She nodded, a radiant smile illuminating her face. "More than ever," she replied, her enthusiasm like a flame in the mist.
The pilot activated the burner, and a roaring flame shot up, casting a vivid warmth into the balloon's belly. The basket trembled slightly, then rose with a graceful slowness, leaving the ground in an almost sacred silence. The field receded beneath them, the grass becoming a blurry sea, the capital's buildings shrinking like children's toys. The mist dissipated, revealing an infinite horizon bathed in golden light.
"Look!" Mero exclaimed, extending his arm towards the spectacle unfolding before them. The capital sprawled like a living fresco, its rooftops glinting under the rising sun, its streets winding like rivers of stone. To the west, the mountains of Tempelune stood, their snowy peaks slicing the sky. To the south, the sea shimmered, a silvery gleam that reminded Mero of their first encounter—those dark docks where Mandarine had drawn him, her mischievous smile defying the shadows.
Flashback: He saw the dusty shop again, the ancient books stacked like forgotten sentinels. She was there, leaning against the door, an ethereal figure in the dim light, her lips brushing his finger before whispering a kiss. That gesture had enchanted him, an invitation he couldn't refuse. Then the alleys, the rough hands seizing him, and her, at a distance, murmuring in a language he didn't understand, her eyes gleaming with a possessive spark. "I have a little prince all to myself," she had said, her gentle caress masking a domination he still felt.
Mandarine leaned over the edge of the basket, her hands gripping the wood, her breath taken by the immensity. "I've never seen this," she murmured, her voice trembling with wonder. "It's... bigger than anything." The wind played in her hair, and Mero felt a wave of tenderness wash over him. She was here, with him, far from the island's traps, and yet, he remembered that house on the hill, the luxurious room where he had been thrown, the bars on the windows reminding him he was just a pawn in her game. But now, in this boundaryless sky, there were no chains—just them, suspended in a moment of freedom.
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The hot air balloon glided higher, carried by invisible currents, the burner's rumble punctuating the silence. "It's like flying over the sea," she said, "but without the waves to bring you back." Mero smiled, captivated by her way of linking their worlds. "In Sel," he murmured, "they say the wind is a free spirit—it guides you if you listen." She turned her head, her eyes sparkling. "Where I come from, they say it challenges you—you must tame it or be lost." Their exchange, light yet charged, wove a thread between their pasts, an echo of that night on the inn's roof, where she had given him a pendant and taken his dagger, sealing their strange pact.
For hours, they floated on the wind, their eyes capturing the moving ballet of the landscape. The mountains of Tempelune stood like eternal guardians, their flanks streaked with dark valleys. The capital sprawled in organized chaos, its towering spires defying the sky, its squares teeming with tiny life. To the north, forests unfurled a deep green carpet, while to the east, golden plains opened like an endless promise. Sometimes, a cloud brushed the basket, leaving a cool mist on their faces, and Mandarine laughed, her clear laughter resonating in the vast emptiness.
Flashback: He saw the island garden again, the wedding dress she wore, her cold and triumphant eyes as she led him through a ceremony he hadn't wanted. "You are mine now," she had said, her words like a sentence. He had struggled, invoking his imperial customs, his age, Master Antonin's agreement, and she had conceded—a reprieve, not a victory. But here, in the air, that memory softened. She was no longer the predator of that night; she was Mandarine, the one who laughed in the wind, the one he loved despite everything.
"Look over there," he said, pointing to the shimmering sea to the south. "Your islands are somewhere in that haze—and Sel, further north. From here, everything seems so close." Mandarine nodded, her eyes following the indistinct line of the horizon. "No borders, no walls," she murmured. "Just... everything." They remained silent, suspended in that moment where their worlds blended, a refuge above the intrigues that had bound them.
She reached out a hand towards a cloud, her fingers brushing the mist. "It's like touching a dream," she said, her voice soft and wonder-filled. "Thank you, Mero—for this, for everything." He felt a warmth spread through him, an echo of that night on the boat when she had slipped into his cabin, defying all rules to stay with him. "I wanted you to see this," he replied. "A piece of freedom, just for us."
The pilot announced the descent, and the hot air balloon began a graceful return to earth, gliding gently through the twilight air. The sun was setting, casting orange reflections on the mountains and the plain, adorning the capital with a magical glow. Mandarine turned to him, her eyes gleaming with an emotion she no longer hid. "You've given me a world I couldn't imagine," she murmured, her voice trembling as if she still carried the sky within her. "Thank you."
Mero took a deep breath, his heart beating stronger. "Mandarine," he said, his voice grave and sincere, "this flight... it's perfect because you're here. I brought you into the skies to show you what I feel—this beauty, this freedom, this love. Everything we've shared, everything we've become... I love you." She looked at him, her eyes widening slightly, then a tender smile formed on her lips—a silent avowal, more powerful than words. She slid her hand into his, their fingers intertwining in a tacit promise.
Flashback: He saw the inn's roof again, the night before his departure from the island. She had kissed him under the stars, her ardent lips sealing their clandestine bond. "You will come back, won't you?" she had asked, and he hadn't known how to respond. But now, in this floating basket, he knew—he would return, for her, for this love he hadn't chosen but now cherished.
"I love you too," she finally murmured, her voice a whisper in the wind, and Mero felt a warmth envelop him, softer than the burner, vaster than the sky. He tightened his embrace, brushing a strand of hair from her face with infinite tenderness. "You've changed everything, Mandarine. You are my light, my storm—everything." She closed her eyes, savoring his words, then opened them, her gaze gleaming with an intensity that overwhelmed him.
The hot air balloon touched the ground with a gentle rustle, the grass crunching under the basket. Twilight painted the field with long shadows, and the pilot cut the burner, plunging the moment into a peaceful silence. Mero and Mandarine stepped out, their hesitant steps as if fearing to break the magic. Under a sky streaked with pink and gold, they stood there, embraced, their hands united in a clasp that defied the imminent farewell.
"This flight," Mandarine murmured, "it's more than a memory—it's us, forever." Mero nodded, unable to find better words. They walked slowly towards a nearby clearing, where lanterns had been lit by the technicians to celebrate their return. The flickering light cast dancing shadows on their faces, and they sat on a blanket spread in the grass, the world fading around them.
Flashback: He saw their separation on the boat again, the seven-masted ship of her father surging from the waves like an implacable giant. She had climbed the gangway, a tear rolling down her cheek, and had cried a silent "goodbye" to him, the pendant clutched in her hand. "This isn't goodbye," she had said, and he clung to that now like an anchor.
Under the lanterns, Mandarine took out the same pendant from her pocket, the metal gleaming in the dim light. "I kept it," she said, her voice trembling. "And you?" Mero rummaged in his jacket and pulled out his dagger, the one he had given her on the roof. "Still here," he murmured, and their laughter mingled, soft and complicit. They placed the objects between them, symbols of a vow they hadn't chosen but now carried with pride.
"When you leave tomorrow," he murmured, "promise me we'll meet again—not for an imposed marriage, but for us." She squeezed his hand tighter, her eyes gleaming with fierce determination. "I promise you, Mero. Neither the sea nor the sky will keep us apart for long." They embraced under the nascent stars, their hearts beating in unison, and it was a night of promises, of shared dreams, of a love that transcended empires and waves.
