[Captain Varesh’s Chamber — Same Time — Night]
The night had settled quietly over Silthara Palace; beyond the windows, desert drifted through the darkness.
Within the palace...the news had already begun spreading. The Golden Blood had hatched. The heirs of Zahryssar had finally entered the world, and because of that... High Mage Arkhazunn was walking quickly through the corridors, intending to visit the Malika’s residence.
Yet halfway there...he stopped; a faint sound reached his ears, a low groan of pain. His brows furrowed; the sound had come from a chamber nearby.
Captain Varesh’s chamber. Arkhazunn glanced toward the slightly opened door. For a moment, he hesitated, then...he pushed it open. The chamber was dimly lit; only a few oil lamps burned beside the walls.
And there...sitting upon the edge of a chair was Varesh. The captain had removed his upper robes, a deep wound stretched across his ribs.
Dark bruising surrounded it. Several healing herbs rested beside him, and judging by the amount of blood staining the cloth...the injury was far from recent.
Arkhazunn’s eyes widened. "What in Lord Urzan’s name..."
Varesh immediately froze; the cloth slipped from his hand for a brief second...surprise flashed across his face. Then it vanished just as quickly; he rose immediately, ignoring the pain, ignoring the wound and ignoring the blood.
And bowed.
"G-Greetings, High Mage."
Arkhazunn stared, then stared harder at the injury, the blood, the herbs, and the way Varesh was clearly trying to hide everything as his voice became unusually sharp.
"When...did you receive that wound?"
Varesh lowered his gaze. "It is nothing serious."
Silence.
Arkhazunn blinked, then his expression darkened. "That was not my question, captain."
The room became quiet, and the captain remained silent. Arkhazunn stepped closer.
"When."
Varesh finally answered. "During the inner sanctum."
The High Mage’s eyes narrowed. "The battle ended yesterday."
"...Yes."
"And you are treating this only now?"
"...Yes."
A dangerous silence followed. Arkhazunn rubbed his forehead, as though fighting the urge to strangle someone as his voice rose slightly. "A small wound? You call this a small wound?"
Varesh remained quiet.
"A wound is a wound, Captain." Arkhazunn moved closer; golden light slowly gathered around his fingertips.
"Sit down."
Varesh immediately shook his head. "There is no need."
"There is every need."
"I have already treated it."
"You poured herbs onto it."
"I survived."
"That is not treatment."
The High Mage finally reached toward him. "Enough. Let me heal—"
Suddenly a hand caught his wrist, and everything became silent. Arkhazunn froze. Varesh froze, neither moved and neither spoke. The captain’s hand remained wrapped around his wrist, firm, not rough, not aggressive, yet undeniably stopping him.
The High Mage slowly lifted his eyes and met Varesh’s gaze. For the first time...something felt wrong...very wrong.
There was distance there. Distance that had never existed before. Distance hidden beneath respect. Distance hidden beneath obedience. Distance hidden beneath every word Varesh spoke.
Slowly...the captain released his wrist as his voice remained respectful and yet strangely cold. "I am fine, High Mage. I do not wish to trouble you."
Arkhazunn simply stared.
Trouble? Since when had Varesh started speaking like that? Since when had he become so careful? So distant?
His brows slowly furrowed. "...Did something happen?"
The question escaped before he realized it.
Varesh’s shoulders stiffened slightly...only slightly; most people would never notice, but Arkhazunn did.
Silence.
The captain avoided his gaze and then calmly picked up his shirt.
"We should visit the Malika." He began fastening the clasps as his voice remained polite, controlled, and professional.
"The heirs have been born as captains of the Imperial Guard...their protection must now be arranged immediately."
Arkhazunn continued staring and waiting. Expecting an answer. Expecting something...anything. Instead...Varesh simply reached for his sword, fastened it around his waist, and walked toward the door without another word, without another glance and without looking back.
The chamber door opened, then closed.
Silence remained behind. Arkhazunn stood alone, motionless and confused. The high mage slowly looked down toward the wrist Varesh had held, then toward the closed door; his brows slowly tightened because he had faced assassins, wars, corruption, and ancient magic.
Yet somehow...he could not understand this. The distance in Varesh’s eyes, the coldness hidden beneath his respect, and the way he spoke as though placing a wall between them.
A long silence followed, and then Arkhazunn quietly whispered to himself.
"...Did I do something?"
No answer came, only the sound of distant footsteps fading farther and farther down the corridor and for the first time...the High Mage realized that losing someone’s affection was far more confusing than gaining it.
***
[House Karzath — At That Same Time]
Night had descended over House Karzath.
The cold winds of the northern mountains brushed against the stone walls, carrying the scent of snow and pine through the quiet estate. The manor itself had become calmer in recent months.
No longer consumed by internal conflicts, no longer divided by suspicion, or at least...that was what most people believed. Lady Arinaya walked through the grand hallway, a stack of reports resting beneath her arm.
Servants bowed respectfully as she passed, then ahead of her...she spotted a familiar figure.
Captain Ravehan. "My Lady."
A small smile appeared on Arinaya’s face. "I heard Malika has summoned you back."
Ravehan smiled, the smile of a warrior who had finally found his place once again. "Yes. I was fortunate; the Malika did not replace me despite everything that happened."
Arinaya nodded. "Malika Levin was never the type to discard loyal people. I have to continue my duty from tomorrow. Since Malik is going through first instinct...Malika will need us more."
Ravehan nodded, and a warm and loving silence settled between them.
Then—
SLAAAAAM!!
The sound exploded through the hallway; both immediately froze. Arinaya’s brows furrowed instantly; she turned toward the source. "It’s coming from...Rakhane’s office."
Ravehan’s expression darkened.
"...Yes."
Without another word...the two hurried down the corridor; the closer they approached...the stronger the strange feeling became.
Then they pushed open the office door, and silence fell. The room was a mess. Fragments of a shattered vase littered the floor. Water soaked the carpets. Flowers had been crushed beneath scattered ceramic shards.
And standing near the desk...was High Ensi Rakhane, breathing heavily. His back turned toward them, his hands clenched.
"What’s going on?" Lady Arinaya asked.
Silence, and then slowly...he turned around and smiled, a too perfect smile. "Oh? I didn’t expect visitors."
Lady Arinaya stared for a brief moment...before the smile had appeared...she had seen it, his eyes, dark, cold, and furious.
Not ordinary anger. Something else. Something deeper. Something that vanished almost immediately.
"Are you alright?" Arinaya asked.
Rakhane glanced toward the shattered vase and then chuckled softly. "It seems my hands have become clumsy. The vase slipped."
Ravehan stepped forward slightly. "Did you injure yourself, High Ensi?"
Rakhane smiled again; his voice remained light. "Absolutely not. You needn’t worry."
Lady Arinaya continued staring, studying, watching, and waiting. Yet Rakhane’s smile never faltered, not once.
Finally, she nodded. "I’ll send servants to clean this."
"Thank you, Sister." The answer came smoothly.
Ravehan bowed. Arinaya nodded, and together they left the office. The door quietly closed behind them.
Silence.
Only their footsteps echoed through the corridor. For several moments...neither spoke. Then Ravehan finally glanced toward her.
"My Lady."
Arinaya remained silent.
"What are you thinking?"
She stopped walking; her eyes remained fixed upon the closed office door at the end of the hallway. "...Did you see his eyes?"
Ravehan blinked. "My Lady?"
"His eyes." Her voice lowered. "For a moment...they were different."
The captain frowned. "I didn’t notice anything unusual."
Arinaya slowly shook her head. "No. I saw it; there was anger, not ordinary anger. There was...resentment."
Ravehan stared at her, then eventually smiled. "My Lady. You are still having difficulty trusting him. Which is understandable; he has given everyone enough reasons for suspicion."
Ravehan’s gaze softened. "But... I believe everyone deserves a second chance. I have seen changes in him; he is different now."
Arinaya looked away, toward the window and toward the dessert beyond House Karzath. Then finally...she sighed. "You should prepare yourself for Silthara Palace."
Ravehan immediately bowed. "Yes, my lady."
Without another word...the captain departed down the hallway; his footsteps gradually disappeared, leaving Arinaya alone.
Silence returned.
A long and uncomfortable silence. Slowly...she turned back toward Rakhane’s office; the door remained closed, motionless, quiet, and normal.
And yet...a cold feeling settled inside her chest, her fingers slowly clenched.
"No...no..."
Her eyes narrowed; the hallway remained empty, yet she could not shake the feeling. The feeling that had followed her for months. The feeling that refused to disappear.
"Everyone else may believe you’ve changed but not me."
Silence.
"You can fool the nobles. You can fool the servants. You can even fool Ravehan." A long pause followed, then her voice became almost a whisper.
"But you cannot fool your sister."
The desert wind rattled the windows, and for the briefest moment...her heart tightened because deep inside...she knew. Rakhane was hiding something, something dangerous, and whatever it was... It had not ended with Slyvarakh’s death.
It had only begun.