Amadeo’s departure had left Priscila with an uncertainty she couldn't shake, a persistent knot in her chest accompanied by a headache that dragged on for the rest of the day. However, Máximo and Brionne were determined to make the week more bearable for her, and they succeeded with laughter, conversations, and simple moments that seemed to make time stand still.

  The day Brionne had to leave, Priscila was unusually emotional, a side of her reserved only for those who had breached the walls of her character. —Make sure to send me your coordinates so I can come and visit you —Priscila said, firmly holding her friend’s hands. —I will, but don't cry, because then I’ll start crying too —Brionne replied with a soft laugh, leaving a kiss on the princess's cheek—. I’ll write to you often, so you’d better reply and not take forever.

  The goodbye between them held the same intensity as the day Brionne left for her honeymoon: laughter mixed with tears, promises, and the certainty that their paths would remain joined despite the distance. Now Brionne was going off to build her life, to start a family, and to give herself to her husband's love.

  As the carriage pulled away and the echo of the wheels faded, Priscila grew pensive. The image of children running through the hallways and a husband who loved her flickered in her mind. Involuntarily, her eyes sought out Máximo. The thought made her shiver, but she soon forced herself back to reality: she had a kingdom to look after, a destiny written in the whispers of the prophecy. Anything else, she told herself, was a luxury she couldn't afford.

  Máximo also returned home, and although Priscila missed him in silence, she felt lighter. The simple fact of not having Amadeo lurking about, with his poison-laced phrases and his games of patience, restored a certain calm. Even so, his words continued to strike her memory like hammer blows, reminding her that there was a hidden meaning she would eventually have to decipher.

  The next morning, she woke up earlier than usual. She was pacing back and forth in her room, mentally reviewing her schedule for the day, when a silhouette on the balcony caught her eye. She pulled back the curtains but found nothing. She looked down and then she saw it: a crow dying on the cold stone floor.

  A shudder ran through her body. Priscila hated seeing injured animals, even more so when there was no apparent reason for it. She knelt quickly and took the bird in her hands. The crow emitted a faint, broken croak, and something fell from its beak: a crumpled, damp scrap of paper.

  She placed the bird gently on her lap and took the paper. It was torn, shredded as if it had been ripped away by force, but the material was unmistakable: expensive paper, of a kind that not just anyone could possess. Among the jagged edges, she managed to read an interrupted phrase: "The answer is yes, but..." The rest had been devoured by the damage.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Priscila's brow furrowed, her heart pounding in her chest. She gathered the fragments scattered on the balcony and, still holding the crow in her hands, stood up to take them to her desk. Something told her this message was no accident—that someone had wanted her to receive this broken truth.

  Priscila, with the crow still weak in her hands, called urgently for Coral. The maid came running, surprised by the tension on the princess's face. —Bring me a veterinarian, right now —Priscila ordered, without taking her eyes off the bird.

  Coral nodded firmly and hurried out. Minutes later, she returned to stay with her while they waited for the specialist. In the meantime, Priscila had laid the crow on a soft cloth and was concentrating on the papers scattered across the desk. —Help me put this together —she asked, her voice a thin thread of anxiety and hope.

  Coral sat across from her, and they both began to piece the scraps together like a puzzle. However, nothing seemed to fit perfectly. There were words cut in half, nonsensical phrases, orphan letters, and entire sections left blank. —"...wer... is y... " —Coral read, frowning—. It has no shape.

  Priscila rested her forehead in her hands, frustrated. —It’s as if someone tore it up on purpose. As if they didn’t want me to understand. The silence was broken by a weak croak. The crow fluttered one of its wings, still strengthless. Priscila looked at it with a mix of tenderness and rage: that animal, which was guilty of nothing, was now the bearer of a mystery larger than herself. —This can't be a coincidence —she whispered, carefully placing another scrap on the crumpled paper.

  At that moment, there was a knock at the door: the veterinarian had arrived.

  They decided to keep the paper fragments in a small chest until they could find the time and calm to analyze them again. When the veterinarian arrived, he examined the crow carefully and prescribed some herbs to strengthen it. —He is weak, but he won’t die if you care for him well —he said in a professional tone before leaving.

  Decidedly, Priscila settled the bird in a corner of her room on an improvised nest of soft fabrics. —I’ll take care of you until you get better —she murmured, gently stroking the animal's dark plumage.

  A sudden idea crossed her mind. She stood up, opened the door, and called her cat, who entered with his usual elegance, his green eyes shining in the dim light. Priscila held her breath, fearing that feline instinct would end in tragedy.

  But the unexpected happened: the cat approached the crow, sniffed it cautiously... and instead of attacking it, he curled up by its side as if he recognized it. —Now that, I did not expect —Coral said, putting her hand to her mouth in surprise.

  Priscila smiled, relaxing her shoulders. —Perhaps even animals know when someone is meant to stay. The crow closed its eyes, as if trusting this improbable company, while the cat lay down like a silent guardian at its side.