[Silthara Palace — Imperial Training Grounds — Moments Later]
Silence...an impossible...unnatural...silence. The wind no longer howled across the shattered palace; the earth had stopped trembling; the corruption...the suffocating darkness that had haunted Zahryssar for months...had vanished.
Gone.
As though it had never existed, only the moon remained above Silthara Palace, watching, witnessing, and remembering.
. . .
. . .
Two ruined halves of Slyvarakh’s serpent body lay motionless upon the battlefield. No darkness escaped them, no black mist lingered, and no corrupted whispers echoed through the night.
Only silence...a silence so complete...that even the snow seemed afraid to fall. Far above...upon the broken balconies...no noble spoke, no servant moved, and no knight dared breathe.
Every eye remained fixed upon the lone silver serpent standing amidst the destruction. Blood covered him. From the tip of his eyes...to the end of his enormous tail.
His own blood and his enemy’s blood. The blood of a kingdom reclaimed, yet despite the countless wounds carved across his scales...he remained standing like a mountain that refused to bow and like the guardian Lord Urzan Himself had chosen.
A long...long silence followed.
Then—
CLANG...
A sword slipped from a trembling soldier’s hand; the sound echoed across the ruined grounds. It broke the spell.
One by one...the soldiers slowly lowered themselves onto one knee. Then another...then another. The nobles followed, as did the palace attendants, the servants, and the commanders.
Even those who had once feared speaking Zeramet’s name...now lowered their heads before him, not from fear...but from recognition.
Their Malik...had returned.
Lord Sharukh was the first to speak; his voice trembled as he swallowed. "Long...long live...Malik Zeramet."
The words caught inside his throat. For months...those words had belonged to another. For months...they had been spoken through fear.
Now for the first time...they carried hope. Sharukh slowly knelt, his forehead touching the frozen earth as his voice became stronger.
"Long live...Malik Zeramet."
Silence.
Then—
Every voice answered.
"Long live Malik Zeramet!"
The cry rolled across the capital...again...and again...and again. The sound reached every tower, every marketplace, every temple, and every forgotten alley of Sarytharn. Citizens emerged from their homes. Children looked toward the palace. Old serpents slowly closed their eyes.
Many began weeping, not because a king had won, but because a nightmare...had finally ended.
. . .
. . .
Upon the shattered balcony... Levin stood motionless, his blue eyes never leaving Zeramet. Relief should have come. Joy should have followed.
Instead...his heart tightened because something was wrong...very wrong.
"...Zer..."
His whisper disappeared into the night; the prime alpha still had not moved...not once, not even after the cheers. Blood continued dripping steadily from his silver scales.
One drop...then another...then another.
Zeramet never moved; his enormous silver body remained standing amidst the ruins like an ancient mountain carved from moonlight.
Duke Aren’s expression slowly changed, his eyes narrowed, and his voice had become unusually quiet.
"...Why...do I feel..." He continued staring at Zeramet. "...that he isn’t calming down?"
Silence.
The celebration slowly faded, and the soldiers stopped shouting. Even the nobles noticed it. Something...was wrong.
Levin immediately turned toward Arkhazunn; his voice carried urgency. "High Mage, what’s happening?"
Arkhazunn’s exhausted face became pale; for several moments...he simply watched Zeramet. Then...he lowered his eyes.
"...It has begun."
Silence.
Varesh frowned. "High Mage..."
Arkhazunn took a slow breath before answering; his voice grew heavier. "When a Prime Alpha releases every fragment of his divine authority...his instincts awaken completely."
He looked toward Zeramet once again. "No longer as a ruler...no longer as a serpent but as the First Beast."
The words sent a chill through everyone standing there. Sarash slowly closed his eyes as he spoke quietly.
"We call that state...the first instinct."
Silence.
"When a Prime Alpha releases every fragment of his divine authority...there comes a state the ancients feared above all else."
Arkhazunn lowered his gaze.
"The First Instinct."
Levin’s brows slowly furrowed, and Arkhazunn continued.
"It is the oldest curse carried by every prime alpha; the greater the divine authority...the greater the burden. It is neither corruption...nor madness; it is the first beast awakening. The ruler remains alive...but the beast that once conquered kingdoms refuses to sleep."
Then Sarash continued quietly.
"Their instincts begin devouring reason, and their senses become impossibly sharp. They recognize everyone...yet trust no one. They hear every heartbeat...and every heartbeat sounds like a threat. They no longer distinguish friend from enemy; they only recognize...territory."
Arkhazunn quietly nodded.
"That is why every Prime Alpha throughout history disappeared after great wars, just like Malik Saqira. They isolated themselves, they imprisoned themselves not because they feared death..."
He looked toward Zeramet.
"...but because they feared themselves."
Silence.
Levin’s breathing slowed and then...his blue eyes widened slightly. "...Is that why...after the royal family was executed...he sealed himself away for six months?"
Silence.
Sarash answered. "...Yes, Malika. He entered the first instinct for six entire months...no one was permitted to approach him...no one. That is why during that time...Slyvarakh ruled the empire as acting emperor."
The battlefield became deathly silent. Levin slowly looked back toward Zeramet; the enormous Prime Alpha still hadn’t moved, not once.
The blood continued falling, steadily and rhythmically like a clock counting toward something inevitable.
Arkhazunn’s expression darkened. "This time...may be even worse."
Everyone looked toward him. "The previous time...Malik still had restraint; he still possessed only half of Lord Urzan’s blessing, but today..."
Arkhazunn slowly clenched his trembling hands.
"He released every seal, every divine blessing, and every instinct, and he slew another Alpha carrying corruption; no one...knows how long the first instinct will last now. A month...six months...a year...or longer."
Levin stood frozen; his heart pounded painfully inside his chest. Then...almost unconsciously...he recalled his two kids who are about to hatch.
A soft whisper escaped him.
"...But...our children...they are going to hatch soon."
Silence.
A silence heavier than the battle itself, no one answered because everyone understood. If the first instinct consumed Zeramet...the first faces their children might see...would not be their father’s gentle golden eyes.
But the gaze...of the First Beast.
***
[The Next Day — Evening — Silthara Palace]
For the first time in months... Silthara Palace was quiet. No screams echoed through its endless corridors. No black mist crawled across its ancient walls. No attendants disappeared into the darkness.
Only silence remained...a peaceful silence.
Outside...the golden banners of Zahryssar swayed gently beneath the evening wind.
Within the palace, servants carefully replaced shattered furniture. Palace knights rebuilt broken corridors stone by stone. Attendants polished the cracked marble floors, while priests walked from hall to hall, cleansing every chamber that had once been tainted by corruption.
The palace...was healing, not only its walls but also its people. Not only its halls but the hearts that had lived in fear for far too long.
Captain Varesh’s voice echoed softly through the chamber. "This way."
Behind him walked one of the high priests of Lord Urzan; the elderly priest bowed respectfully before Arkhazunn.
"Allow me."
Golden light slowly gathered around the priest’s hands as divine healing flowed into Arkhazunn’s battered body. The lingering pain left his limbs; the exhaustion slowly faded. Minutes later...the priest lowered his hands and smiled gently.
"It is done, High Mage."
Arkhazunn inclined his head. "You have my gratitude."
The priest bowed once more before quietly leaving the chamber. Silence settled between the two men. Varesh stepped forward; his eyes carefully studied Arkhazunn’s face.
"...Are you truly well now?"
The High Mage nodded; his gaze drifted toward the distant palace windows. "My wounds are gone but my concerns remain."
Varesh followed his line of sight. "The Malika...and the throne?"
A heavy silence followed. Finally...Varesh spoke. "Do you believe...the Malika can bear everything alone again?"
Arkhazunn closed his eyes; a weary smile crossed his face as he repeated the word quietly.
"...Again...Once more...Malika must carry everything upon his shoulders while protecting everyone behind him." His voice lowered. "He has done it once; he is about to do it again."
Varesh said nothing because neither of them could deny the truth. Once again...Levin would stand alone.
***
[Later — The Malika’s Private Residency — Night]
Night had quietly descended upon Silthara Palace. Moonlight flowed through the long marble corridor. Every attendant standing along the hallway lowered their heads as Duke Aren walked past them.
The Duke’s footsteps echoed gently and then...he stopped. At the end of the corridor... One figure remained seated before a pair of enormous ancient doors.
The door, which had not opened since morning. Levin sat silently before them, wrapped in a thick northern cloak against the evening chill. Resting carefully within his arms...were two enormous eggs.
One shimmered like polished silver beneath the moonlight. The other glowed softly with warm golden hues.
Both remained wrapped inside layers of heated silk and beside Levin... Lyresaph rested quietly in his smaller form. Asha lay curled peacefully at his feet.
Behind him... Iru stood in complete silence and waiting. Levin never looked away from the closed doors, as though hoping...that at any moment...they would finally open.
Duke Aren quietly approached him, and for several moments...he simply stood beside his son. Then he spoke, and his voice remained gentle.
"Staring at that door...will not bring him outside any sooner."
Levin smiled faintly; his fingers carefully adjusted the warm blankets surrounding the eggs. "I know. I simply...want him to feel them."
Silence.
"Their scent, their heartbeat, and the presence of his children." His blue eyes slowly returned to the enormous doors. "Even if he cannot open them...I want him to know that they are waiting."
A long silence stretched between father and son. Then Duke Aren rested a firm hand upon Levin’s shoulder.
"You understand what comes next."
Levin nodded before the sentence had even finished, and Duke Aren continued. "The Malik has entered the first instance. Until he returns...Zahryssar will need its Malika. The nobles. The council and the normal citizens, they will all look toward you...be prepared."
Levin remained silent. Then...without hesitation he answered.
"I will govern this empire. I will protect our people. I will guard this throne." His voice remained calm, steady, and resolute as his eyes returned towards the closed door.
"But...I will never leave him alone. No matter what kind of beast waits behind those doors...No matter how long the First Instinct lasts...No matter what I must endure...I shall remain here because when he finally remembers he is no longer fighting alone...I want the first thing he feels..."
His fingers gently rested upon the silver egg.
"...to be his family."
Duke Aren stared quietly at his son. Then...a slow smile appeared upon the old Duke’s face. "Do you know...that you inherited your mother’s stubbornness?"
Levin finally smiled. "So I’ve been told."
The old Duke chuckled softly. "I doubt anyone in this world could change your decision."
Levin looked toward him. "No."
Duke Aren nodded as he gently squeezed Levin’s shoulder. "I expected that answer, and I am grateful for it."
His eyes slowly turned toward the ancient doors.
"Because every king...deserves someone who refuses to abandon him."
Silence settled once more. Only the distant sound of evening bells echoed throughout the palace.
Then—
CRACK...
A tiny sound. So small...that everyone questioned whether they had imagined it. Lyresaph’s ears suddenly stood upright; he immediately leaped onto Levin’s shoulder.
Levin’s breathing stopped. "What is it?"
Lyresaph slowly pointed toward the blanket. Everyone looked in silence and then...another tiny sound echoed through the hallway.
CRACK...
A single silver line slowly appeared across the smooth shell; no one moved and no one breathed.
Duke Aren stared. Iru’s eyes widened. Even Asha slowly lifted her head. Levin’s fingers trembled ever so slightly as he stared at the tiny fracture spreading across the shell.
His voice became nothing more than a whisper.
"...They’re..."
Duke Aren slowly smiled. "...They are hatching."
And before the ancient doors behind them could open...a new beginning...had already arrived.