Chapter 51 The Two Year Viel
The air in Chandlok had shifted.
Two years had passed. Yet, time had not healed — it had twisted, hardened, and redefined everything it touched.
Sana was no longer the girl who had stumbled through the ruins of truth and power.
Her days were filled with fierce training, silent meditations, and whispered guidance from spirits older than time.
Her strength had become known to the spirits of the forest — even the wind bent when she spoke.
She no longer looked like the Sana of yesterday; her eyes had become more unreadable, her presence more formidable. But her heart?
It still ached.
During the rare moments she allowed herself rest, haunting dreams slipped in.
She would see Hatim—his eyes no longer angry, but warm, softened—and a small child laughing beside him.
He would look up and whisper, "Come back. We’re missing you.
" The dream would vanish like smoke, but its warmth lingered.
It was a cruel comfort, one she never spoke of.
Meanwhile, in the heart of Chandlok, silence reigned around one name.
Sana.
No one dared to say it.
Not the maids in the palace halls. Not the guards by the towers. Not even Meher, who once clung to Sana like a sister. Her name was a memory carved in shadow — to speak it was to reopen wounds no one could afford to feel again.
Hatim… had changed too.
Gone was the careless smile, the cocky stride. He had grown sharper, quieter, a man constantly at war with himself. On the outside, he trained, led, ruled.
But when alone, he was haunted.
He'd catch glimpses — Sana laughing in the palace gardens, whispering secrets during sword lessons, eyes flashing with mischief.
They weren't real. His mind knew that. But his heart?
It still reached for her. And that made him angry.
Furious. He clenched his fists at the memories, hating how much they made him feel.
Because she had left.
And no matter how hard he tried to bury the truth, it still pulsed in his chest — her absence.
Hatim hadn’t said her name in two years. Not once.
But he remembered every letter of it.
The world had moved on. People had changed. Thrones had stayed upright, and legends were whispered. But under it all, there was a silence.
A space.
A waiting.
Something was not over.
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