Randel stepped out onto the ruined terrace and froze.
Once, this had been a grand hall — perhaps a winter garden, perhaps a place for gatherings. Now only columns remained, reaching toward the sky, along with fragments of a mosaic floor overgrown with moss and young trees. Sunlight pierced through the holes in the roof, casting golden beams across the stone, the greenery, and the ancient inscriptions that no one could read anymore.
It was beautiful.
Not the artificial, manicured beauty of palace gardens, where every tree was trimmed and every path perfectly aligned. This was real beauty — wild, alive, triumphant.
Trees grew straight out of the marble tiles. Roots wrapped around the columns like living ropes. Branches stretched toward the sun, breaking through thousand-year-old vaults. Nature had reclaimed what was hers, as she always did.
Randel stood at the edge of the terrace, gazing at the glorious chaos, and smiled.
The night had been magnificent.
He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt like this. Not just sated, not just rested — truly happy. That quiet, deep happiness that needed no words. She was here. She had returned. She loved him. Everything else could be endured.
He remembered the morning.
Roxana had burst into their chambers without knocking — as usual, as if etiquette had never existed. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, helping Amanda sit up. She was pale, her hair tousled, and on her neck were the marks he had left during the night. She couldn’t stand. Not at all. Her legs simply refused to hold her.
“You monster!” Roxana cried the moment she saw it. “You broke her! You completely broke her!”
“I’m fine,” Amanda smiled weakly. “It’s just… my legs aren’t listening to me right now.”
“Just?!” Roxana rushed over, wrapped her arms around her, and pulled her close. “You can’t even stand! You can barely sit! And he… he…”
“I’ll help her,” Randel said calmly.
“You’ve already ‘helped’ enough!” his sister snapped, glaring at him. “All night long! I heard everything! The whole palace heard!”
“Roxana…” Amanda’s face flushed red. “Please…”
“Shh,” Roxana hugged her even tighter. “You shouldn’t talk. You need medicine. Rest. A bath. And…”
“Roxana,” Randel stood up. “She’s alright.”
“She can’t walk!”
“She’ll be able to soon,” Amanda said with a soft smile. “I promise.”
“I’ll bring ointments,” Roxana was already dashing toward the door. “And tinctures. Warm blankets. And…”
She flew out without even closing the door behind her.
Amanda laughed — a weak but happy sound.
“She’s good,” she said.
“She’s an idiot,” Randel shook his head, but he was smiling too.
“She loves us.”
“She’s just furious.”
“It’s the same thing.”
Randel chuckled. Yeah… maybe it was.
He returned to the present.
The sun had climbed higher, and its rays turned golden. The shadows cast by the columns grew longer, and glowing dust danced in the air.
He didn’t notice Leo right away.
The guard stood by a distant column, arms crossed over his chest. His black armor didn’t reflect the sunlight — it swallowed it, leaving an aura of darkness around his figure. A crimson cloak hung all the way to the ground. The red lenses stared straight ahead, not at Randel.
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He was pretending not to notice the prince. Or perhaps he truly didn’t. He stood like a statue, like an ancient monument, like a thousand-year-old warrior who had no interest in mortals.
Randel remembered yesterday.
The hand pressed against his chest. The mocking voice. “Where do you think you’re going, mortal?” “A baby who’s only just learning how to hold a sword.” “I’ve watched kings come and go.”
Back then, he had almost killed the insolent bastard. Not with a sword — with his bare hands. But he had held back. Because Amanda was watching. Because Cassius was there. Because he needed to maintain appearances.
Now Cassius was gone. Amanda was lying in bed. Roxana was rushing around the palace with ointments. The generals and mages were buried in the library, bickering and fighting among themselves.
They were alone.
Randel walked slowly toward Leo.
His steps were light, almost silent. But the guard, of course, heard them. Heard them and didn’t turn.
“You’re up early,” Randel said, stopping a few paces away.
Leo didn’t answer. The red lenses remained fixed on one point.
“I remember yesterday,” Randel’s voice was calm. “How you wouldn’t let me near her. How you called me a baby.”
“It happened,” Leo’s voice was icy and distant.
“You called me a baby,” Randel took another step closer. “A mortal. Someone who lives less than you sleep.”
“I called you what you are,” Leo turned his head. The red lenses locked onto the prince. “Does that offend you, Prince?”
“It does,” Randel rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. “I challenge you to a duel.”
Leo froze. Then he burst out laughing.
Loudly. Genuinely. The sound echoed through the ruined hall.
“You?” he said once he had caught his breath. “Challenging me? To a duel?”
“You’re laughing?”
“I’m impressed,” Leo crossed his arms. “By your stupidity. You saw how I move yesterday. You saw me appear in front of you faster than you could blink. And you still want to fight me?”
“Are you afraid?”
“Afraid?” Leo tilted his head. “I’m only afraid of one thing — that I might accidentally kill you, and the Keeper will be upset.”
“Then fight without killing me,” Randel drew his sword. “Or admit that you’re a coward.”
Leo stared at him. The red lenses didn’t hide the mockery in his gaze.
“Very well,” he said. “I accept your challenge, mortal. But I will fight however I see fit.”
He didn’t draw his weapon.
Randel froze.
“You…” His voice dropped, low and dangerous.
“I’m listening,” Leo stood with his arms still crossed, showing no intention of reaching for a blade.
“You’re not even going to defend yourself?”
“Why should I?” Leo smirked. “Against you? A baby who’s only just learning how to hold a sword?”
Rage ignited in Randel’s eyes. Not the restrained, controlled anger from yesterday. This was real. Cold. Dangerous.
He was the greatest swordsman of his generation. He had fought generals, mages, and creatures no one else had ever seen. And this… this arrogant bastard stood before him with empty hands.
“You’ll regret this,” Randel said.
“Go ahead, mortal,” Leo didn’t even shift his stance.
Randel attacked.
A perfect strike — fast, precise, lethal. The sword sang in his hand as it sliced through the air. The target was the shoulder. Not to kill, only to wound. To prove a point.
The blade cut through empty air.
Leo had vanished.
Randel froze. His sword hung motionless in the air. No one. Nothing. Only sunlight pouring onto the mosaic floor and dust dancing in the golden beams.
“Where…” he began.
A blow to his arm knocked the sword from his grip. The blade clattered against the stone floor and skittered away.
Randel spun around. No one.
A strike behind his knees sent him crashing to the ground. Pain shot through his legs, but he didn’t cry out. He only clenched his teeth and tried to rise.
The edge of a black sword pressed against his throat.
Leo materialized out of thin air. The red lenses looked down at Randel from above. The black blade didn’t waver in his hand.
“You…” Randel rasped.
“I warned you,” Leo’s voice was calm, almost bored. “You’re not ready to fight me, mortal.”
“This is dishonorable,” Randel stared into the red lenses. “Invisibility. Strikes from behind. This isn’t a battle.”
Leo laughed — a wild, vicious, delighted sound.
“Dishonorable?” he echoed. “You, a prince, challenge a guard who has served the Keeper for a thousand years. You demand a fair fight. And I… I’m simply showing you reality.”
“What reality?”
“The one where fair fights don’t exist,” Leo pulled the sword away from his throat. “The one where the winner isn’t the strongest, but the smartest. The one where the result matters more than the rules.”
He picked up Randel’s sword, running his fingers along the nicks in the blade.
“It’s already cracked,” he noted quietly.
He pressed the blade against his knee and pushed.
The crack rang out almost instantly.
Randel watched as the broken pieces fell onto the stone floor. The sword that had been with him for ten years. The sword that had cut down his enemies. The sword that Roxana had once given him.
Leo tossed the broken pieces at the prince’s feet.
“You lost, mortal,” he said. “Remember this lesson.”
He turned and walked away.
“Stop!” Randel sprang to his feet. His legs ached, but he didn’t feel the pain. “Stop, you coward! I challenge you to a rematch!”
Leo didn’t turn around.
“Do you hear me?!” Randel shouted. “I’ll challenge you again and again! Until I learn how to fight invisible bastards like you!”
“Learn,” Leo’s voice drifted back, already distant. “You have about fifty years. Maybe you’ll manage it by then… pup!”
And he vanished.
Randel was left alone on the ruined terrace. The shattered remains of his sword lay at his feet. The wind rustled through the branches of trees growing straight out of ancient stone. The sun continued to shine as if nothing had happened.
He clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white.
“I will learn,” he said quietly. “I will learn how to fight invisible enemies. I will learn how to beat you.”
He picked up the broken pieces of the sword and tucked them inside his coat.
Then he turned and walked back into the palace. Back to her. Back to Amanda. Back to the Keeper who belonged to him.
As for Leo… Leo could wait.