Ashen stood outside the king’s chambers, blood still drying on his thigh from the self-inflicted wound. The corridor smelled of healing herbs and old stone. Lord Drex emerged from the room, face pale and streaked with sweat. Ashen grabbed his arm before the healer could speak.

"How is the king?" he asked again, voice low and urgent, the words scraping against the raw fear clawing at his insides.

Lord Drex opened his mouth, closed it, then shook his head slowly. Several times he had tried everything in his power to stabilize the wound, but the poison on the blade had spread too deep.

The king lingered only because of stubborn royal blood and sheer will.

"My lord... I have done all I can. The rest is in the hands of fate."

Ashen released the healer and raked both hands roughly through his hair. His wife is gone, and his father lay dying. The realm had been breached.

The weight of it all pressed down until his chest felt ready to cave in, a crushing grief and helpless rage twisting like knives in his lungs.

He turned away, shoulders rigid, fighting the scream building in his throat a scream born of unbearable loss, of the family crumbling around him, and the terrifying emptiness where Lumina’s presence used to be.

The door to the antechamber burst open. Aurelia stormed inside, her dark hair wild, eyes blazing with grief and fury. She crossed the space in three strides and slapped Ashen hard across the face before he could react. The crack echoed off the walls.

"You bastard!" she screamed. Her voice cracked on the word, raw agony bleeding through the anger. "What happened to my mother? When did my mother die? Why in all the realms did I not know anything was happening?"

Ashen touched his stinging cheek but did not flinch. Aurelia had been locked in the inner cold palace all this time and didn’t even get the chance to know all the news going in the palace. The slap burned, but it was nothing compared to the deeper wound her pain carved into him guilt and sorrow for the sister he could never seem to protect.

"Why ask me that silly question? Why would I know what happened to her?"

Aurelia’s face crumpled as tears spilled over her lashes even as her hands curled into fists.

"Because you are here! Because you always know everything! Because the moment you were born into this family everything started falling apart!" Her voice rose higher, breaking on every word, each one laced with years of buried resentment and fresh, shattering grief.

"My father lies on a sick bed with a hole in his chest. My mother is dead and burned to ash by dragons that were supposed to protect us. The realm is bleeding from wounds we cannot see. And you stand there like none of it touches you!"

She stepped closer, tears streaming freely now, chest heaving with the force of her heartbreak and rage. "I hate you. I hate the day you were born. I hate that you exist in this world at all. Your appearance destroyed everything. You brought ruin to this family, to this realm. You are a curse walking on two legs."

Ashen felt each word like a fresh blade, slicing deeper than any physical wound. Pain lanced through him, sharper and more devastating than the stab in his leg grief, guilt, and a profound, aching loneliness that threatened to swallow him whole. He reached out instinctively to steady her, to offer some comfort in the storm, desperate to bridge the chasm her words had opened, but she recoiled as though his touch burned.

"Do not touch me!" she shouted. "Do not pretend you care! I heard even your precious wife left you. And do you know why? Because you are not capable of love. You are only capable of being a monster." She laughed bitterly through her tears, the sound hollow and broken. "Oh, and I have it on good authority from my sources that she is already trying to dissolve your marriage. She saw the truth about you at last."

Ashen stood frozen, chest tight, the words carving grooves into his heart until breathing felt like swallowing glass. The accusation about Lumina hit hardest of all a searing flash of fear and desperate love that made his stomach twist.

Before he could draw a full breath, Serena hurried into the room, one hand cradling her swollen belly. She swayed on her feet from exhaustion and the weight of pregnancy.

Ashen moved without thinking, catching her before she could fall and guiding her gently to the nearest chair, his touch careful despite the storm raging inside him.

"Alexis is finally awake," she whispered, voice trembling with relief and fear, the fragile hope in her tone only sharpening the ache in his own chest.

Ashen’s heart lurched painfully. He nodded once and rushed into the inner chamber, fear and brotherly love warring within him.

Alexis lay propped against pillows, skin pale and clammy, bandages stark white across his chest. The sight of his brother so weak twisted something deep inside Ashen sorrow and protective fury that made his throat tighten.

He crossed the room in two strides and dropped to his knees beside the bed, grasping Alexis’s hand with a grip that trembled slightly.

"Alexis," he said, voice rough with pain and barely concealed desperation.

Alexis managed a faint smile. "Ashen... finally you care about me when I am on my sick bed."

Ashen squeezed his hand harder, the warmth of his brother’s skin a small, fragile anchor against the chaos. "Do not joke. Do not worry yourself. Rest. Heal."

Alexis shook his head weakly. "Listen. While Father and I are like this... you must take the throne. Act as regent until we are stronger. The realm cannot stand without a steady hand."

Frustration surged through Ashen, hot and bitter, mingling with the heavy dread of responsibility. Taking the throne meant chains.

It meant staying here, giving orders, holding the realm together while Lumina slipped further away with every passing hour.

The thought of her absence clawed at him with fresh agony. He opened his mouth to argue, but the words died when Alexis’s wife slipped into the room.

She saw her husband and broke. Tears poured down her cheeks as she hurried to the bed, dropping to her knees on the opposite side. "My love," she sobbed, pressing his hand to her lips.

"You foolish man. You promised you would come back to me unharmed." She stroked his hair, kissed his knuckles, whispered broken endearments between sobs. "Do not leave me. Do not leave our child."

The tenderness in that room, pure, aching love laid bare only sharpened the hollow ache in Ashen’s own chest, the absence of Lumina feeling like a gaping wound that refused to close. Ashen rose quietly and stepped out, closing the door softly behind him, the sound echoing like a finality he wasn’t ready to face.

Ero waited in the corridor, bowing low. "My lord, the nobles are gathered in the throne room. They demand your presence."

Ashen sighed, the sound heavy with exhaustion and the crushing weight of duty that threatened to break him. He walked toward the grand hall, each step heavier than the last, dread and reluctant resolve settling like lead in his bones. When he entered, the nobles fell silent. He stopped before the throne and stared at it for a long moment.

His hand rested on the armrest, fingers tracing the carved dragon scales his father had gripped countless times while issuing commands. A bitter smile curved his lips, laced with sorrow and the ghost of admiration. He could still see the king there, shoulders squared, voice steady, holding the realm in his hands.

One of the nobles cleared his throat. "My lord..."

Ashen glanced at him. "You said you wished to see me. I wonder why."

"Because you are next in line for the throne," the noble answered carefully.

Ashen’s eyes narrowed. "What?"

Another noble stepped forward. "My prince, we have uncovered the reason the attackers breached our defenses so easily. The princess... your wife... is behind it."

Ashen stared at them. A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face, masking the sudden, violent surge of protective fury and disbelief that roared through him. "Adam caused the attack. So what princess are you bluffing about?"

The first noble swallowed. "My prince, we know she is your wife, but we must speak plainly. We have learned she is related to the late enchantress who betrayed the realm long ago, and..."

"Hold." Ashen raised one hand. The noble’s breath seized in his throat. He clawed at his neck, face turning red, unable to draw air. Every noble in the room stared in stunned silence as the man dropped to his knees, gasping.

"As long as my brother and father lie on their sick beds, I am next in line," Ashen said quietly, his voice calm but laced with a dangerous undercurrent of unwavering love and lethal protectiveness. "If any of you dare utter one more bad word about my wife, I will make sure your head is on the ground before you finish the sentence."

He released the compulsion. The noble collapsed forward, coughing and retching. The others backed against the wall, faces pale with fear.

"Let this be a warning," Ashen said, the words heavy with the fierce, unbreakable devotion that burned beneath his exhaustion.

He turned and walked out of the throne room without another word, leaving the nobles trembling in his wake, while inside him the storm of grief, love, and desperate resolve continued to rage.