The carriage lurched along the dirt road to Druena, each bump a reminder of the decree folded tightly in my trembling hands. Fiora’s orders felt like a weapon, and I was about to wound an entire community.

  Tristan sat across from me, stoic and silent. His presence offered no comfort.

  The first town emerged—a tapestry of life far more complex than I’d imagined. Children played, workers moved, families breathed—all about to be torn apart by my words.

  As I stepped onto the wooden dais, the crowd’s collective breath seemed to pause. Their eyes held a mixture of fear, defiance, and raw vulnerability.

  “People of Columbria,” my voice cracked. “All mixed bloods must vacate immediately and be escorted to Ghostun.”

  A woman’s scream pierced the silence.

  “Ghostun? Why Ghostun?”

  “We can’t go to Ghostun!” another voice shouted.

  “What does this mean?” an elder cried out.

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  “Our entire lives! Our homes!”

  “Why are you doing this to us?”

  Each cry felt like a physical blow. These weren’t monsters or statistics. These were people facing an incomprehensible fate, their entire existence about to be uprooted.

  Suddenly, a man charged toward me, a stolen sword in his hand. Tristan intercepted, his blade sparking against the attacker’s. The man’s nose broke under Tristan’s strike, blood spraying across the wooden dais.

  “Princess,” Tristan’s voice was deadly. “Shall I end his life?”

  The man—bleeding, broken—looked up. “What have we done?”

  Something inside me shattered. “Let him go.”

  The next town was worse. Some attacked mixed bloods, shoving them to the ground. “Times up,” one snarled.

  The dais collapsed during the ensuing fight. I fell into a sea of swinging fists, boots trampling my spine. Tristan’s sword flashed—ready to kill to protect me. He pulled me afoot and we hurried away.

  In the carriage, the weight of the day pressed against my chest. Each bump reminded me of the bodies I’d just displaced, the lives I’d just shattered. “Tristan,” I said softly, my voice breaking the heavy silence. “Thank you. For protecting me.”

  He didn’t respond immediately, and when he did, his voice was measured.

  “It is my duty, Princess.”

  “No,” I whispered. “It’s more than that. Those people… they looked at me like I was destroying their entire world.” My hands began to tremble. “All this because of fear.”

  Tristan nodded. “Mixed bloods can potentially transform into Valmorin without warning. One transformation could destroy entire communities.”

  I understood the risk. The Valmorin were monsters—uncontrollable beings that could emerge from mixed bloodlines, capable of devastating entire regions. But looking at those families, those children…

  “They’re still people,” I said quietly. “Families being torn apart.”

  The landscape outside blurred—just like my understanding of this cruel world I was being forced to navigate. Each town, each cry, each terrified face became a weight I wasn’t sure I could carry.

  “I never wanted this,” I said, a tear sliding down my cheek. “To be the one who sends people away because of what they might become.”

  Tristan remained silent, but his silence felt like understanding. Or perhaps judgment. Some queen I would make. If I could even call myself that.