The chamber did not collapse.
It did not explode.
It did not punish him for knowing the truth.
It simply… let go.
The echoes of the fight faded, leaving behind a silence so deep that #@&# could hear his own heartbeat. The stone coffin at the center of the room stood motionless, ancient and tired, as if it had been waiting for centuries for someone to finally understand.
He took a step forward.
Then another.
The symbols carved into the floor began to glow—not violently, not threateningly, but softly, like embers waking from sleep. The air grew warmer. The smell of dust and blood vanished, replaced by something gentler.
Grass.
The stone beneath his feet softened.
The walls dissolved, not breaking apart but unbecoming, as if they had never truly existed. The ceiling opened into a sky so wide and dark it made his chest ache.
He was no longer in the castle.
He stood in the middle of a vast field.
Tall grass swayed around him, brushing his hands, whispering with every movement of the wind. The night was alive—filled with the gentle hum of insects, the distant chirping of crickets, and thousands upon thousands of tiny lights floating freely.
Fireflies.
They drifted lazily through the air, glowing gold and pale green, rising and falling like breathing stars.
At the center of the field stood two figures.
A knight.
No armor of glory. No polished steel. His armor was worn, scratched, and faded, as if it had seen too many battles and survived none of them unscarred. His sword was gone. His helmet rested in the grass beside him.
And beside him—
A princess.
Not dressed in royal silks. No crown weighed down her head. Her dress was simple, flowing, moving gently with the wind. Her feet were bare. Her hair was loose.
They looked… human.
They looked free.
The knight turned first, noticing her, as if this was not the first time they had met here—but the first time they were allowed to remember.
He offered his hand.
The princess hesitated only for a moment before taking it, her fingers slipping into his naturally, without fear, without sorrow.
Music filled the air.
There were no instruments. No musicians.
The sound existed everywhere at once—a slow, steady rhythm, like a heartbeat shared between two souls.
They began to dance.
Not the kind taught in palaces.
Not the kind performed before crowds.
Their steps were clumsy at first, unsure, as if remembering something forgotten long ago. Then they laughed—softly, genuinely—and the movement became easier.
They spun beneath the fireflies.
The lights responded, swirling around them, brighter now, faster, as if celebrating. The field shimmered with life, every blade of grass glowing faintly under their feet.
This was not romance.
This was release.
Centuries of silence lifting.
Centuries of lies unraveling.
Centuries of pain finally allowed to end.
#@&# stood still, afraid to move, afraid to breathe too loudly.
Writer: You were never meant to witness this. #@&#: Then why am I here? Writer: Because someone had to know they didn't choose death.
The knight looked up.
His eyes met #@&#'s—not with anger, not with accusation, but with gratitude. He gave a small nod, as if saying thank you for listening.
The princess followed his gaze.
She smiled.
Not sadly.
Not weakly.
But peacefully.
The music slowed.
The fireflies rose higher, gathering above them like a living constellation. Their dance slowed with it, steps becoming lighter, softer, until they were no longer dancing at all—only standing together, hands intertwined.
Light wrapped around them.
Their forms began to blur, not fading in pain, but dissolving gently, like mist at dawn.
The knight leaned close, whispering something only she could hear.
She laughed.
And then—
They were gone.
The field darkened.
The fireflies drifted upward, one by one, vanishing into the night sky.
#@&# felt the ground harden beneath him.
Stone returned.
Cold. Silent.
He stood once more in the chamber.
The coffin lay open.
Empty.
The symbols were gone. The murals erased. No proof remained. No evidence to show the world what had truly happened.
Only the truth inside him.
He exhaled slowly, feeling something lift from his chest.
"You're free now," he whispered. "Both of you."
Writer: The world will never know their real story. #@&#: That's okay. They don't belong to the world anymore.
A final glow flickered near the coffin—a single firefly, hovering for just a moment before fading away.
The secret of the princess was no longer a secret.
It was a farewell.
#@&# turned toward the dark passage ahead, shadows stretching forward, new mysteries waiting patiently.
Behind him, nothing remained.
Ahead of him—
A new legend was about to begin.