[Silthara Palace — Lady Nyra’s Chamber — Later]
The chamber had fallen silent. Outside...the palace slumbered beneath the moon, and inside only the quiet sound of restrained sobs remained.
Lady Nyra’s small hands refused to loosen their grip upon Prince Sarash’s robes; her fingers trembled and her shoulders shook. Yet she never made a sound loud enough for the palace to hear.
Sarash slowly knelt before her, his eyes lingering upon the bruises darkening her slender neck. Each crimson mark felt like a blade twisting within his chest.
Carefully...almost fearfully...he reached forward, his fingers gently brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and his voice came barely as a whisper.
"...You frightened me."
Nyra lowered her head. "I’m sorry..."
"No." Immediately...his answer came. "You will never apologize for surviving."
Silence.
She clutched his robes even tighter as though letting go meant being abandoned. Sarash looked down at her tiny hands, then...slowly...her own hand closed into a fist. So tightly...that his knuckles turned white.
A dangerous light flickered within his eyes, and his became almost inaudible. "I will not...allow you to die, not today, not tomorrow and not while I still breathe."
The room fell silent once more.
Then—
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Sarash slowly turned; the chamber doors opened only enough for an attendant to enter. She immediately lowered herself into a respectful bow.
"Your Highness."
Sarash stood; his expression had already returned to its usual calm. "Remain with Lady Nyra."
The attendant nodded, his gaze hardened. "Do not allow her to leave this chamber. No matter who gives the order, until I return."
The attendant bowed even deeper. "Your command shall be obeyed."
Sarash looked back toward Nyra; for one long moment...neither spoke. Then...very gently...he loosened her fingers from his robes, one by one.
She looked at him helplessly. "...You’ll come back?"
Sarash smiled, a small smile, the kind given only to comfort frightened children. "I gave you my word. I always return."
Nyra slowly nodded; only then did Sarash turn away. The chamber doors quietly closed behind him.
Click.
The warmth disappeared, and the corridor beyond felt cold, ancient, and silent. His footsteps echoed against polished obsidian walls.
Then another pair of footsteps approached from the darkness. Sarash lifted his eyes, and Captain Varesh emerged first, and behind him was Raevahn with several trusted palace guards silently standing watch over the corridor.
Varesh immediately bowed. "Your Highness, we have been awaiting your arrival."
Sarash nodded once. "Then we waste no more time."
His voice carried none of the gentleness he had shown Nyra moments before, only resolve as his gaze shifted towards the palace depths and his jaw tightened in fury.
"The Inner Sanctum has become impossible to enter; the darkness surrounding Slyvarakh has grown stronger. Even I can no longer approach it unnoticed."
Silence.
Varesh looked toward the endless corridor before answering, and Raevahn said, "...That was expected."
Sarash frowned. "What do you mean?"
Varesh lowered his voice. "Our objective was never to force our way inside; the Malika did not return merely to enter the Sanctum, he returned...to make Slyvarakh believe that he has already won."
Sarash remained still. Varesh’s expression became colder. "A hunter does not strike while the beast is awake. He waits...until the beast lowers its guard."
The prince’s eyes slowly narrowed; realization flickered across his face. "So...this entire night...is only the beginning."
Varesh nodded as he looked toward the underground passage concealed behind an ancient stone archway. "Exactly, every moment Slyvarakh keeps his attention upon the Malika...our path beneath the palace becomes clearer."
Silence.
The corridor suddenly felt much colder. Sarash drew a slow breath. "Then let us move, no mistakes and no hesitation."
Varesh placed one hand upon the hidden stone mechanism. Ancient gears rumbled somewhere beneath the palace.
GRRRRRRRRRR—
A section of the wall slowly slid aside as darkness, cold, ancient, and waiting. Varesh looked toward the endless staircase disappearing into the depths beneath Silthara.
"The real battle...begins below."
Captain Varesh looked toward Raevahn. "You know your duty."
Raevahn nodded without hesitation, his hand settling firmly upon the hilt of his sword.
"I shall guard the passage; no one enters and no one leaves. If the Malik discovers this place..." His expression hardened. "...I shall buy you whatever time I can."
Varesh looked at him for a long moment before placing a firm hand upon his shoulder. "Do not die needlessly."
Raevahn gave a faint smile. "I never intended to."
Silence.
The hidden stone passage continued groaning open; cold air escaped from the darkness below, and without another word... Prince Sarash and Captain Varesh descended into the forgotten depths.
Behind them the enormous door slowly slid back into place, and the passage vanished, as though it had never existed.
***
[Later — The Hidden Inner Sanctum]
The underground world was ancient, as pillars stretched endlessly into darkness. Walls carved with forgotten serpent scriptures shimmered beneath faint golden crystals; dust had remained untouched for centuries.
Every footstep echoed...like trespassers walking through the tomb of forgotten kings.
Sarash’s breathing slowed and then his eyes widened because standing before the sealed sanctum...was someone he never expected to see.
Silver robes, golden eyes burning like molten suns—the Prime Alpha himself.
Malik Zeramet.
Sarash instinctively lowered himself. "My Malik—"
"Enough."
Zeramet’s voice struck through the chamber like cold steel. "Throw your greetings into the abyss; we have wasted enough time already."
Silence.
Even Sarash dared not speak again; anyone standing there could understand the reason behind that terrifying silence. His consort...was inside the palace.
Inside another ruler’s chamber, every passing heartbeat was torture, and every passing breath was restraint.
Yet...the Prime Alpha remained standing because now, one careless decision...would cost Levin his life. The enormous chamber became suffocatingly silent.
Finally... Sarash asked quietly, "What exactly is our plan?"
Zeramet slowly turned; his golden eyes were frighteningly calm as a bitter smile appeared. "The plan...is painfully simple."
He looked toward the sealed sanctum as his voice became almost a whisper. "We destroy every darkness protecting him, and after that...I shall personally ensure that the serpent who dared lay a hand upon my consort...begs for death long before I grant it."
Silence.
Nobody questioned him; nobody doubted him because everyone present knew...those were not words spoken in anger, and they were a sentence already passed.
Sarash slowly looked toward the door before them. "So...this is the Hidden Sanctum. The chamber hidden beneath Silthara for generations...the place no Malik ever allowed another to witness, and I could only find because I stood closer to him."
Zeramet scoffed, "At least you remain useful."
His gaze shifted. "Arkhazunn."
The High Mage immediately stepped forward. "I am ready."
Slowly he reached beneath his ceremonial robes; carefully, almost reverently, he removed an object wrapped in layers of ancient silk. The remaining fragment of the Sirrash Heart. Golden light escaped through the cloth.
The air itself seemed to tremble. Sarash stared. "So this...is the final fragment."
Arkhazunn nodded; his fingers tightened around it. "It was preserved within the Imperial Treasury, but preserving it...was far easier than using it."
Silence.
Sarash looked toward the sealed sanctum. "But the chamber only opens for Slyvarakh. Or...those he willingly permits. How do we enter?"
Arkhazunn swallowed; his normally composed face showed something rare with fear as everyone looked at him.
"We do not open the door; we interrupt the law protecting it. Lady Nyra’s research revealed something astonishing: the Sirrash Heart was never created to command people. It governs...the current of time surrounding sacred spells."
Sarash frowned. "So the Malika...was never meant to control Slyvarakh."
Arkhazunn slowly nodded.
"No, he was meant...to control the spell." His eyes lowered toward the glowing fragment. "If time itself stands still...then the barrier protecting this sanctum must pause with it."
Silence.
"It is only a theory."
"And if your theory fails?" Sarash asked quietly.
Arkhazunn smiled bitterly, and he looked toward Zeramet. "Then...we challenge a monster strengthened by thousands of stolen souls."
Nobody answered.
The silence itself became the answer. Arkhazunn slowly knelt upon the ancient stone, and with trembling fingers...he began drawing an enormous circular formation around them. Ancient symbols appeared one after another.
Gold, silver, and then crimson. Each symbol pulsed like a heartbeat when the final rune was completed... He stood; his breathing had already become heavier.
His complexion...noticeably paler.
"Remain inside the circle." His voice had become strained. "No matter what you witness, no matter what happens...do not step outside until I tell you, or else you’ll be frozen too."
Everyone silently nodded. Arkhazunn raised the Sirrash Heart; light erupted, and the fragment floated above his palms. Its brilliance swallowed the darkness.
Then the High Mage began chanting. Ancient words...every syllable echoed through the forgotten sanctum. The runes beneath their feet ignited. Golden light intertwined with silver.
The chamber shook violently.
BOOOOOOOOOOM!!
Cracks raced across the ceiling; outside...the effect spread across Silthara Palace, across the capital, and across Zahryssar itself.
Torches froze in midair. Flowing fountains became motionless crystal, birds remained suspended between wingbeats, the wind vanished, and even distant desert sands ceased their endless dance.
For one impossible moment...the entire world forgot how to move. Inside the circle Arkhazunn suddenly staggered.
"High Mage!" Varesh caught him before he collapsed, blood spilled from Arkhazunn’s nose.
Then another stream escaped the corner of his mouth; thin crimson veins spread beneath his skin like shattered glass. One of his eyes turned completely bloodshot; his hands trembled uncontrollably.
Each heartbeat felt as though it tore something apart inside his body; he forced himself upright, and breathing became agony.
"I..." He coughed violently; blood stained his sleeve. "...cannot...hold..."
The glowing runes flickered; the Sirrash Heart shook violently. Arkhazunn’s vision blurred; darkness crept into the edges of his sight with the last of his strength...he looked toward Zeramet; his voice was barely audible.
"Everything...has stopped." His knees nearly gave way. "You must...enter...now."
The chamber fell silent because everyone understood time itself...was waiting for no one.
***
[Meanwhile—At That Same Moment—The Malik’s Chamber]
Moonlight spilled through the towering windows and the silk curtains, moments ago dancing beneath the wind...and stopped.
The folds of fabric hung motionless in the air; the flames within the braziers became frozen sculptures of fire. Even the drifting snow beyond the windows remained suspended beneath the heavens.
Silence...an impossible silence.
Slyvarakh’s smile slowly faded; his silver eyes shifted toward the window. He rose from the edge of the bed; for the first time in many months...something had unsettled him as his gaze swept across the chamber.
"Strange, the wind...has vanished." His instincts stirred; the darkness coiling faintly around his feet rippled uneasily as his voice lowered. "It feels...as though the palace itself has stopped breathing."
Levin remained perfectly still inside...his heart thundered.
’It worked...Arkhazunn...The ritual has begun.’
He dared not reveal even the slightest change in expression, not yet, not until everything beneath the palace was complete.
Then—
THUD!
Levin deliberately stumbled, dropping onto one knee against the polished stone floor; a sharp breath escaped him. Slyvarakh immediately turned. "What happened?"
Levin lowered his gaze, one hand resting against his ankle. "Forgive me, Malik; my footing slipped. It appears I twisted my ankle."
For a brief moment, Slyvarakh studied him carefully, searching and judging. Then the suspicion disappeared beneath another smile.
"So careless." He stepped forward and extended a hand. "You should have told me you were exhausted from your journey."
Levin remained silent for a heartbeat before giving a small nod. "My apologies."
Without another word, Slyvarakh helped him back to his feet as his tone was calm and filled with lust.
"You will not be walking any farther tonight; I shall make sure your ankle is healed...by me."
Levin clenched his fist, and he lowered his eyes. "As you command."
Outwardly...his face remained composed, respectful, submissive, and quiet. But beneath that calm exterior...every muscle in his body had become rigid, and every instinct screamed in revulsion.
Yet he endured because this was no longer about himself, not about pride, not about fear; it was about Zahryssar.
About the serpents who had vanished, about the innocents who would disappear if tonight failed, and somewhere...far below Silthara Palace...the Prime Alpha was already moving.
’Just a little longer...’
Levin slowly closed his eyes for the briefest moment.
’Endure a little longer; when this is over...every crime you buried beneath this palace...every innocent soul you devoured...and every life you stole... I will make certain you answer for them all.’
Outside...time itself remained frozen. Inside...neither ruler realized...that the final game for Zahryssar had already begun.