[Eastern Zahryssar — Sah’qir Cliffs — Continuation]

The memory vanished violently, and present-day Zeramet stood frozen before the corpse he personally buried centuries ago. Except now that corpse was smiling at his consort.

For one brief moment the emperor’s golden eyes widened not from fear but from the violent disbelief of seeing a nightmare rise from its grave.

Then immediately his gaze landed on Levin, and without hesitation Zeramet slid toward him, instantly fast enough to crack the cliffs beneath his tail.

"Consort—"

Everyone turned toward him, and meanwhile Slyvarakh slowly smirked, tilting his head lazily as his eyes gleamed beneath the stormlight and a dangerous smile curved his lips.

"Oh...there he is." His gaze softened wickedly. "My dearest brother."

Levin glanced briefly toward Slyvarakh afterward, then toward Zeramet. Meanwhile, Sarash remained trembling nearby, eyes lowered, body stiff and still unable to process that the serpent standing before him was alive.

Because Slyvarakh was not merely a royal serpent, he was a catastrophe buried beneath Zahryssar’s silence.

Zeramet reached Levin finally. Immediately holding his hands tightly, almost checking him and almost reassuring himself, Levin was truly unharmed.

"Consort..." His golden eyes moved rapidly across Levin’s body. "...are you hurt anywhere?"

Levin remained quiet briefly, and Zeramet noticed it instantly: the scratches across pale skin, the bruises, and the cuts left from battle and falling stone, and the emperor’s expression darkened dangerously.

Then, quieter, far softer, he asked, "...Are you alright, my love?"

Levin finally lifted his gaze toward him, and despite everything, he nodded calmly. "I am alright, only some scratches."

Then quietly he added, "Lyresaph and...Sarash were with me."

Zeramet visibly flinched slightly at the name; his golden gaze briefly shifted toward Sarash, and then he sighed softly as though holding back far more than anger, but before he could speak, Slyvarakh’s voice echoed across the cliffs lazily.

"Is my dearest brother truly not going to welcome me?"

Silence.

Zeramet did not even glance at him, which somehow made the atmosphere worse because the emperor’s silence felt colder than rage itself.

Then Slyvarakh smirked wider as he folded his arms slowly.

"Oh? My brother refuses to even look at me now?"

That was when Zeramet finally turned; his golden eyes had become terrifying, cold, ancient, and deadly enough to suffocate the cliffs themselves.

"I do not welcome dead serpents."

For one single moment, Slyvarakh’s smile faded.... Just slightly, and then he laughed softly, beautifully, and brokenly as his silver eyes gleamed strangely as his dangerous smile slowly returned.

"Oh...that reminds me of the day you killed me...such a heartbreaking memory."

Levin quietly glanced between both brothers afterward, neither denying it nor explaining it, and somehow that silence felt far heavier than battle.

Then suddenly black lotus pheromones exploded across the cliffs.

FWOOOOOOOSSSSHHHHH!!!

The desert winds became suffocating instantly; even the stones beneath them cracked beneath imperial pressure.

Zeramet stepped forward slowly afterward, his massive silver tail sliding across shattered cliffs while his golden eyes darkened further as his voice lowered dangerously.

"Seeing this corruption... I no longer question how you crawled back from death."

Slyvarakh scoffed immediately, folding his arms proudly as his wicked grin appeared. "Is my little brother not impressed?...your brother is rather amazing."

Then suddenly his silver eyes darkened, and immediately white sand pheromones exploded outward violently; the winds howled, the cliffs trembled, Lyresaph growled uneasily, and even Levin flinched slightly, but before Slyvarakh’s pheromones could even dare to touch his consort... Zeramet’s safety pheromones wrapped around Levin.

The pheromones felt strange, ancient, and dry like breathing death itself. Then Slyvarakh smiled, dangerously and beautifully, as his silver eyes gleamed.

"After all...your brother is someone who now also controls death."

Silence crashed across the cliffs instantly.

Even Levin’s blue eyes narrowed slightly afterward, and then suddenly Slyvarakh’s gaze shifted toward Sarash, and immediately the pale serpent froze.

Slyvarakh tilted his head lazily, almost mockingly, as a dangerous softness entered his voice.

"But...I wonder how that loser remained alive. How did you use him...as a puppet?"

Sarash flinched violently, his body trembling harder now because Sarash remembered exactly what Slyvarakh truly was. Then Zeramet spoke suddenly, cutting through the suffocating atmosphere sharply.

"Why are you here?"

Slyvarakh slowly looked back toward him afterward then smiled lightly and spread his arms slightly

"Are we truly discussing family matters atop broken cliffs? It would be better if we returned to my Silthara palace—"

"SARASH."

Zeramet’s voice sliced through the air instantly, cold, imperial, and absolute. Sarash visibly jolted and immediately bowed deeply.

"Y-Yes...yes, Malik?"

And that was it, that single word.

Malik.

Slyvarakh slowly went silent afterward, his silver eyes resting upon Zeramet carefully. Then Zeramet finally looked directly at him again, and this time his golden gaze held no hesitation at all, only authority.

"I hope..." His voice lowered dangerously. "...you realize now how you will address me from this moment onward."

Silence, a heavy, suffocating silence, and then slowly Slyvarakh smiled again, but this smile looked different, sharper, darker, and almost proud.

"...of course...Malik."

The word echoed strangely from his lips, like mockery, like memory, or like surrender he never truly meant.

Zeramet said nothing afterward. Instead, he immediately wrapped one arm around Levin protectively, holding him close against his side, possessive and careful, almost unwilling to let distance exist again.

"We are leaving this place immediately."

And without another glance toward Slyvarakh, the emperor turned, his silver tail sliding violently across the cliffs.

Levin beside him, Lyresaph growling low behind them, and Sarash following silently.

Meanwhile, Slyvarakh remained standing alone amidst the storm, watching and smiling softly. Silver eyes filled with something ancient and deeply wrong.

Then quietly—almost affectionately—he whispered toward the disappearing emperor:

"You became even crueler after killing me..." A faint laugh escaped him. "...little brother."

***

[House Karzath — Same Time]

Night had settled heavily over House Karzath. The mansion lanterns burned low across the endless corridors while desert winds whispered through the hallways.

Lady Arinaya stepped down from the carriage slowly, her dark robes dragging softly against polished marble while exhaustion lingered visibly within her eyes.

Yet even now her mind remained restless, thinking and searching as she murmured quietly while walking through the palace hallway.

"I need to confirm it...whether he truly is the Black Serpent or not."

But before she could continue, her footsteps halted because ahead, walking calmly toward Rakhane’s office chamber, was Serath-min, aka Azhrakaal.

The palace lanterns painted his hair gold briefly, beautifully, elegantly, and dangerously. Serath-min noticed her immediately, then slowly he smiled.

"Oh...Lady Arinaya." A soft chuckle escaped him. "You’ve returned."

Lady Arinaya stared at him coldly, unmoved as her voice sharpened elegantly.

"I do not believe you have lost your eyesight, Serath-min. If I stand before you..." A faint, dangerous smile appeared. "...then obviously I have returned."

For one brief second his jaw tightened, only slightly, but she noticed. Then immediately Serath-min smiled again, smoothly and perfectly like venom hidden beneath silk and bowed very faintly that somehow felt mocking instead of respectful and added,

"My apologies, Lady. I do hope..." His eyes lingered upon her longer than necessary. "...you have a very memorable night tonight."

The words sounded ordinary, but something beneath them felt wrong and threatening.

Lady Arinaya narrowed her eyes instantly. "...indeed."

Then Serath-min walked past her, calmly and elegantly, and the moment he passed beside her, Lady Arinaya felt cold, not physically but instinctively, like prey sensing a predator’s smile nearby.

She slowly turned afterward, watching his disappearing figure vanish deeper into the palace corridors.

Then, quietly to herself, she murmured, "...Whoever you are...you won’t stay hidden behind that face for long."

The distant lantern flames flickering across the marble walls. Lady Arinaya sighed softly afterward, fatigue finally settling into her shoulders because whatever Serath-min truly was, she could feel it now.

That serpent was dangerous. Far more dangerous than House Karzath realized. Then finally she turned and continued walking toward her chamber.

Moments later an attendant hurried toward her before bowing deeply.

"My lady..." The servant lowered her gaze respectfully. "...shall I prepare your bath?"

Lady Arinaya nodded absentmindedly, still lost within thought. "Yes...prepare it."

The attendant bowed again immediately. "As you command."

And just like that, Lady Arinaya stepped inside her bath chamber. Unaware that somewhere else inside her chamber death had already begun waiting for her.

***

[House Karzath — Lady Arinaya’s Chamber — Later That Night]

Warm scented steam still lingered across the chamber. The bath waters had long turned still while ancient bronze lanterns illuminated the marble room in soft amber gold.

Lady Arinaya stepped out slowly from behind the silk curtains. Long golden hair still damp, water droplets slid slowly against tan skin while attendants hurried quietly around her with ancient, practiced grace.

Not a single unnecessary sound echoed within the chamber, only the soft crackling of incense flames and only the whisper of silk.

Meanwhile, Arinaya herself remained lost within thought, her brows furrowed faintly, her mind restless, searching endlessly through memories.

An attendant approached afterward carrying long silver cloths scented with desert jasmine. Then carefully she began drying Lady Arinaya’s hair the ancient Zahryssarian way, slowly and patiently from root to end.

Another attendant burned rare oils nearby while soft smoke curled upward through the chamber like pale spirits, and the atmosphere looked peaceful, elegant, and safe.

Yet unseen by everyone inside that room, death already waited quietly among silver ornaments. Lady Arinaya sat before the large bronze mirror silently afterward, still thinking and still remembering the strange smile. Serath-min gave her earlier.

’I do hope you had a very memorable night today.’

The words echoed unpleasantly within her mind again, and somehow the more she remembered them, the colder her instincts became.

Meanwhile, behind her, the attendant reached toward the grooming tray without suspicion, without hesitation, and slowly she lifted the silver comb, beautifully crafted, ancient silver engravings carved across its surface and elegant enough to belong to nobility.

But hidden along the delicate teeth of the comb, a nearly invisible poison shimmered faintly beneath lantern light, deadly and silent.

A poison created not to wound but to kill: one touch against the scalp, one scratch, one moment, and death would arrive quietly enough to resemble fate itself.

The attendant stepped closer carefully, completely unaware. Lady Arinaya remained staring into the mirror, lost within thought.

’...if he truly is black serpent blood... then House Karzath is already in danger.’

Behind her, the silver comb slowly lifted higher, closer and closer, toward her damp hair, toward her scalp and then—

***

[Later — Rakhane’s Chamber]

The chamber smelled heavily of wine and burning incense.

Low amber flames flickered across black stone walls while night winds whispered faintly beyond the carved palace windows. Rakhane sat near the long obsidian table, lazily swirling dark wine inside a silver goblet, one eye hidden beneath the black patch.

The visible one is sharp, dangerous, and irritated. Meanwhile, Serath-min lounged comfortably across the velvet couch nearby, entirely relaxed.

As though nothing in this world could possibly threaten him.

Then suddenly—

KNOCK!!!

KNOCK!!!

KNOCK!!!

"High Ensi—! High Ensi—!!" The frantic voice outside immediately made Rakhane furrow his brow.

"...does that servant possess a death wish?" His voice lowered dangerously. "To disturb me this late?"

Serath-min lazily lifted the wine cup toward his lips afterward, then softly, almost amused, he said:

"Perhaps it is something important...you should avoid threatening servants before hearing them."

Rakhane scoffed, clearly irritated, yet finally stood anyway, his long robes dragging against the floor as he walked toward the chamber doors.

Then violently he opened them.

"Do you have a dea—"

But the servant immediately collapsed into a deep bow, trembling badly and breathing unevenly.

"I—I apologize, High Ensi—!"

Rakhane’s expression darkened further. "Then explain why you are shaking my mansion walls."

The servant looked moments away from fainting entirely as her voice broke

"My Lord...Lady Arinaya..."

Rakhane immediately stilled. "...what about my sister?"

The servant’s eyes widened with panic; she tried speaking but failed. Then finally, barely managing, she whispered as her shaky breath escaped her.

"She...has been poisoned."

Silence, an absolute silence. The silver goblet inside Rakhane’s hand shattered instantly.

CRAAAAACKKK!!!

Dark wine spilled across the marble floor like blood. Rakhane’s visible eye widened violently; for the first time, true shock crossed his face. Then immediately he moved.

FWOOOOOOOSSSHHHH!!!

The High Ensi stormed past the servant so fast she nearly collapsed from the pressure alone.

"WHAT ARE YOU STANDING THERE FOR?!" His roar thundered violently through the palace hallway. "DRAG THE TEMPLE MAGES HERE IMMEDIATELY!"

Servants panicked instantly; several rushed through the corridors while others lowered themselves in fear.

Meanwhile Rakhane disappeared toward Arinaya’s chamber like a storm finally unleashed, and inside the chamber behind him, silence returned; only Serath-min remained.

Still lounging lazily across the couch and still holding the wine cup calmly, he then slowly took another sip.

A soft chuckle escaped him afterward, low and satisfied. His eyes gleamed beautifully beneath flickering firelight.

"...finally, the smartest one is dead."