Return to the Capital?

The air in the small, rented room was thick with the scent of dried herbs and a quiet desperation that clung to the threadbare curtains like dust. Outside, the city of Oakhaven hummed with a life Kaelen had only ever observed from the gilded cage of the royal palace, a life now distant and almost unreal. He traced the worn grain of the wooden table with a finger, the rough surface a stark contrast to the polished marble he’d known.

“Are you sure about this, Kaelen?” Queen Elara’s voice, though soft, held a tremor that mirrored the unease coiling in his own stomach. Her eyes, usually pools of gentle strength, were shadowed with worry as she looked at him.

Kaelen met her gaze, his ten-year-old heart a drumbeat against his ribs. “We’ve tried everything, Mother. The healers in this town… they don’t understand. There’s no improvement.” He gestured vaguely towards the room next door, where Lyra lay, her breathing shallow, her skin alarmingly pale. The memory of her earlier laughter, a sound as bright as sunlight, now felt like a phantom limb, an ache for something lost.