[Eastern Zahryssar — Imperial Encampment — Sunset] 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

By sunset the imperial encampment had finally begun moving.

Thousands of imperial banners rose beneath crimson desert skies while armored serpent knights escorted the royal convoy westward toward Silthara.

The sands trembled beneath imperial carriages, mage wagons, and endless serpent soldiers. Yet despite the massive procession, an unsettling silence lingered throughout the empire’s ranks.

Because everyone knew something had changed. The dead crown prince had returned, and Zahryssar no longer felt stable.

At the center of the imperial convoy, the black imperial carriage carrying Levin moved silently between endless rows of serpent knights. Blue silk curtains shifted softly beneath the desert winds while distant imperial banners danced beneath the fading sky.

Meanwhile, inside the carriage, silence ruled—not peaceful silence but a painful silence. Levin remained seated quietly near the carriage window. One elbow is resting against the frame, blue eyes distant.

Thoughts tangled endlessly: too many questions, too many secrets, and too many truths refusing to align together.

Slyvarakh, Sarash, the necklace, the hidden history, and the acting emperor, but somehow none of those things disturbed Levin as much as the person sitting directly across from him now.

Zeramet.

The emperor sat opposite him in complete silence, golden eyes fixed outside the carriage window, not once glancing toward Levin and not once reaching toward him.

Meanwhile below them, Lyresaph and Asha slept quietly together across the imperial carpets. Completely unaware that their masters’ world was beginning to collapse.

Levin quietly watched Zeramet afterward, and slowly a heaviness settled deeper inside his chest as his fingers tightened slightly against his robes.

’What is wrong with him...? Is he worried because of Slyvarakh?’

That thought lingered painfully because ever since Slyvarakh returned, Zeramet had begun distancing himself, quietly and carefully.

As though preparing for something terrible. Then finally Levin softly spoke.

"...Zer."

Zeramet’s golden eyes shifted toward him briefly, only briefly.

"Are you alright?"

Silence. Then the emperor quietly looked back outside the carriage again. "Yes."

That single word hurt more than anger because it sounded empty and distant, like someone already leaving, and Levin felt it instantly.

The distance, not the absence of love, because the love remained. Levin could still feel it, still see it hidden inside Zeramet’s eyes.

But alongside it, something else existed now: danger. The kind Zeramet could neither explain nor reveal.

Still, Levin tried reaching toward him, slowly and carefully, wanting to hold his hand, wanting to pull him closer, and wanting to remind him.

you are not alone.

But before his fingers could touch him, Zeramet suddenly spoke.

"After we return to Silthara..." The emperor’s voice remained terrifyingly calm. "...you shall prepare to leave for Thalryn."

Levin froze completely. His hand stopped midair, and silence crashed violently through the carriage.

"...what?"

Zeramet finally turned toward him fully afterward, and somehow his cold expression hurt more than fury ever could.

"We shall divorce, Consort."

Levin’s entire world stopped; the imperial carriage continued moving, the knights continued marching, and the desert winds continued howling outside.

Yet inside Levin, everything froze.

Meanwhile, Zeramet continued speaking calmly as his golden eyes lowered slightly.

"I shall summon the temple priests personally. They will remove the markings to free you."

Silence.

"I hope...you will cooperate."

Cooperate. Not: stay, fight, ask why, or hate him. Only: cooperate.

Levin stared at him silently afterward, completely unable to breathe properly because he was confused, frightened, heartbroken, and carrying Zeramet’s child.

And during a moment like this, when his body still carried their future, his husband was speaking of separation.

But somehow what hurt Levin most was not the divorce itself.

No. It was realizing Zeramet had already decided to suffer alone. The emperor is worried about some upcoming danger.

Levin could see it clearly now, but instead of reaching toward him, Zeramet was pushing him away. Trying desperately to fight something alone.

And that realization shattered Levin quietly from the inside. Then slowly, very slowly, Levin withdrew his hand completely. Turned toward the carriage window instead.

And softly said, "...as Malik wishes."

Silence...an absolute silence, and immediately Zeramet froze. Because perhaps deep inside he had expected anger, questions, tears, and refusal.

Not acceptance.

The emperor’s fingers subtly tightened afterward, almost painfully. Then quietly he continued:

"After crossing the western hills..." His voice weakened slightly for the first time. "...you shall travel separately with another convoy."

Levin remained silent, still looking outside, still refusing to look at him now, and somehow that hurt Zeramet far more than hatred would have.

Then finally the emperor spoke again, more carefully this time. "The child will be—"

But Levin immediately cut him off. "The child shall become heir of House Veyrhold."

For the first time, pain entered Levin’s voice openly. Then softly, almost breaking, he whispered:

"...I only hope you do not take my child away from me too."

Silence.

Zeramet visibly swallowed afterward, golden eyes darkening painfully, but no words came out because the emperor of Zahryssar, the serpent feared across empires, suddenly found himself unable to speak before the person he loved most.

And outside the imperial carriage, the desert sun slowly disappeared beneath the horizon.

As though even the skies themselves could no longer bear witnessing the tragedy unfolding inside.

***

[Midnight — Imperial Encampment — Near the Western Hills]

Midnight settled heavily across the imperial encampment.

The convoy had temporarily halted near the western hills, where massive dark cliffs surrounded the desert roads like ancient sleeping giants.

Above, the night sky stretched endlessly, filled with cold, beautiful, and silent stars. And throughout the encampment, most serpent soldiers had already retreated toward their tents.

Only patrol guards and blue serpent flames remained awake beneath the cold winds. Near the edge of the hills, Zeramet stood alone silently.

Silver robes drifting beneath the night breeze. Golden eyes fixed upward toward the endless stars unreadable and tired.

Then slowly footsteps approached from behind.

Sarash lowered himself respectfully afterward. "Malik."

Zeramet did not respond immediately. Sarash hesitated briefly then quietly asked, "...Malika Levin appears troubled. Have you already told him?"

Silence lingered afterward; only the desert winds answered. Then finally Zeramet spoke softly as his golden eyes remained fixed upon the stars.

"I had no choice; Slyvarakh has returned."

The emperor’s voice lowered further afterward, darker and more dangerous. "And this time...he will go to any lengths."

The blue serpent flames across the encampment flickered violently beneath the midnight wind.

Sarash remained silent, listening carefully because, unlike the rest of Zahryssar, only a handful of serpents truly understood what Slyvarakh was capable of.

Meanwhile, Zeramet slowly clenched his hands behind his back; his voice carried bitterness now.

"To the public...he may remain the Heaven-Blessed Emperor." A cold smile appeared briefly across the emperor’s face, humorless and painful as his golden eyes darkened.

"But the truth...the truth is something only we know."

Sarash visibly lowered his gaze because yes, they knew. Slyvarakh no longer feared death itself.

"The magic he possesses..." Zeramet whispered quietly. "...will eventually destroy everything."

The night winds howled harder afterward. As though even the desert itself agreed, then slowly the emperor closed his eyes briefly, and when he spoke again, his voice sounded softer.

"As a husband...I must keep my consort and child safe."

Sarash immediately looked upward afterward. Pain was visible across his pale eyes. "By hurting him? And by breaking him?"

Zeramet visibly froze only briefly, but Sarash noticed. Then quietly the pale serpent asked: "Why not simply tell Malika everything?"

The emperor slowly exhaled afterward, long and exhausted. "Because...my consort would never leave my side."

A tiny and broken sad smile appeared across Zeramet’s face. "He would stand beside me even against death itself."

Sarash remained silent afterward because he knew that was true. Levin would never abandon Zeramet willingly.

Never.

But that only made this tragedy worse. Then Zeramet slowly looked downward, toward his own trembling hand.

"In two months...the egg shall be delivered."

For the first time fear truly entered the emperor’s expression openly. "I cannot take risks anymore. I shall resolve everything myself."

A faint pause, then softly, almost desperately, he whispered, "...and afterward I shall bring him back."

A painful silence.

Then Sarash quietly asked the one question Zeramet himself had been avoiding as his voice lowered carefully.

"...and if by then...it is already too late?"

Zeramet had no answer. For several moments the emperor simply stood there silently beneath the endless stars, unable to speak and unable to promise anything. Because deep inside even he feared that possibility.

Then slowly Zeramet turned slightly, and his golden eyes landed somewhere farther across the encampment. There, standing alone beneath the silver moonlight, was Levin.

One hand rested gently over his abdomen. The other brushed softly against the cold winds while he stared upward toward the same night sky.

Alone...completely alone.

And somehow that sight hurt Zeramet more than war ever had. Then suddenly Levin slowly turned, and from across the distant camp, their eyes met.

Golden met blue eyes.

Hurt, distance, love, and unbearable silence. Neither moved, neither spoke. Yet thousands of unspoken words shattered between them anyway.

Meanwhile, Sarash quietly lowered his gaze because for the first time in years, the emperor of Zahryssar looked completely helpless.

Then finally Zeramet turned away first as though unable to endure the sight any longer. And quietly, almost like someone trying to convince himself—he whispered:

"...this is for the best."

But beneath the cold midnight stars, even the desert winds sounded unconvinced.