[Zahryssar — Same Afternoon — House Karzath]

The atmosphere inside House Karzath felt unusually calm, too calm, like a palace waiting for blood to spill.

But inside the receiving hall, Red Knights stood lined beside the black marble pillars in absolute silence. Their silver-red armor gleamed beneath torchlight ominously and before them—

Rakhane Karzath, Lady Arinaya, and several attendants remained kneeling while an imperial decree was read aloud.

"—You are hereby ordered to present yourselves before the Malik by tomorrow afternoon." The Red Knight’s voice echoed coldly throughout the chamber. "And should House Karzath refuse this summons...the Malik himself shall deliver rightful punishment upon both the household and its bloodline."

Silence swallowed the hall afterward, heavy, sharp, and threatening. Meanwhile Rakhane slowly lifted his remaining eye toward Arinaya beside him, and strangely, she did not look frightened.

Not even slightly.

In fact she looked satisfied, as though somewhere beneath the empire’s collapse she was quietly enjoying every second of it.

The Red Knight finally stepped forward afterward, holding the imperial decree respectfully toward Rakhane.

"High Ensi." Rakhane accepted the scroll lazily afterward, not even pretending respect anymore.

Then the Red Knight bowed slightly. "My duty is complete."

And without another word the imperial soldiers turned and departed from the residence. Heavy footsteps echoing through the halls until silence returned once more and attendants quickly scattered nervously afterward.

Returning toward their duties before noble tempers worsened, slowly Arinaya turned to leave as well.

But then Rakhane’s lazy voice echoed behind her. "You seem unusually happy, my dear sister."

Arinaya paused immediately; then slowly she glanced back over her shoulder. Cold eyes gleaming sharply beneath golden lantern light, and afterward, she smirked.

She was leaning carelessly against the marble wall, hands folding loosely across her chest. "...am I the only one?"

Rakhane blinked once, then unexpectedly he laughed softly beneath his breath. "I would never deny it."

Slowly he leaned backward against the throne-like chair behind him afterward, arms crossing lazily.

"It is rather thrilling..." A dangerous amusement flickered inside his eye. "...to witness a dead serpent return from the grave only to lose his mind."

Arinaya tilted her head slightly, studying him carefully. "You seem different lately, especially after your precious black serpent slithered away."

Rakhane smirked as he said, "He was indeed a good friend, but...he should not have laid hands on you."

For one brief second Arinaya genuinely looked shocked and scoffed coldly, saying, "That statement sounds amusing coming from a brother desperate enough to kill me."

Rakhane smiled afterward, softly, beautifully, and dangerously as his eye narrowed faintly. "I would simply dislike watching the blessing of murdering you pass into another’s hands...it would wound me emotionally."

Arinaya stared at him in visible disgust afterward. "...you are truly sick."

"And yet..." Rakhane yawned lazily. "...you continue surviving beside me."

Silence stretched between the siblings afterward, but strangely, neither hatred nor affection existed there, only amusement, only danger and only blood relations twisted beyond repair.

Then slowly Rakhane’s gaze sharpened afterward. "I assume...the Malika did not escape alone and you did not do it all alone; someone else must’ve helped you, right?"

Arinaya’s expression remained unreadable. "...I did nothing. I am an innocent serpent."

Rakhane chuckled, and then a brief pause followed. Then slowly she smiled coldly as her eyes darkened faintly.

"But I admit...watching those serpents suffer after celebrating the return of their ’true emperor’ ..." A dangerous satisfaction settled across her face. "...is deeply entertaining."

Immediately Rakhane chuckled low and amused. "Looks like the coming days shall become very interesting."

Then lazily he pushed himself away from the wall, stretching slightly afterward. "And here I feared Zahryssar would become boring again."

Without another glance Rakhane slowly walked away through the massive hall afterward, dark robes dragging behind him carelessly.

And Arinaya remained standing silently beneath the lantern light, watching him disappear, and slowly the amusement faded from her expression completely, leaving behind only worry.

Because unlike Rakhane, she still remembered someone left behind. Then quietly, almost like a promise spoken to herself, she murmured, "...I have to bring Raevahn back."

Outside, storm clouds gathered once more above Zahryssar, and somewhere beneath the empire’s cracking foundations, alliances, betrayals, and old bloodlines quietly began moving against the throne.

***

[Silthara Palace — Execution Grounds — Sunset]

The skies above Zahryssar burned crimson. Like the empire itself had been stained with blood. And outside the imperial execution grounds, rows of dead bodies lay carelessly thrown beside broken stone paths.

Servants and attendants. Ordinary people whose only crime had been loyalty toward the Malika. Some still wore torn servant robes stained dark with blood; others had not even been granted proper funeral cloth.

Imperial workers dragged the bodies away like discarded waste toward burial pits beyond the palace walls as if, after weeks, they deserved the rites now, standing silently before the horrifying scene—Captain Varesh could only stare.

Jaw clenched tightly, hands trembling faintly beside his sword because this no longer felt like punishment.

It felt like rot spreading through the empire itself.

One dead attendant was dragged past him afterward. Young, perhaps barely twenty summers old, and suddenly Varesh remembered her. She used to prepare tea for Levin’s courtyard.

The realization twisted painfully inside his chest.

Meanwhile, behind him, slow footsteps approached quietly, and without even turning, Varesh already knew who it was. High Mage Arkhazunn stopped beside him silently.

His robes are moving softly beneath the evening winds. For several moments even Arkhazunn said nothing because there was nothing holy left to say before slaughter like this.

Then finally he sighed, tiredly and deeply. "...nothing will change by staring at the dead."

Varesh closed his eyes afterward, pain flashing openly across his face as Arkhazunn continued quietly:

"We must focus on those still alive." His gaze slowly lifted toward the dark palace ahead. "We still do not know where the Malika is...nor whether the Malik truly lives."

Silence spread heavily between them afterward, and then suddenly Varesh spoke, voice low, hoarse, and broken with disgust.

"...I cannot continue serving here." His fingers clenched harder beside his sword. "I cannot stand beside monsters anymore."

The evening winds moved heavily across the execution grounds, carrying the scent of blood everywhere.

Arkhazunn slowly turned toward him afterward, and for one brief moment—he looked exhausted beyond magic itself.

Then, quietly, almost unconsciously, he reached forward and held Varesh’s hand. The warmth startled Varesh completely.

Arkhazunn’s voice lowered softly, not commanding, not political but simply honest.

"You must."

Varesh froze, and Arkhazunn continued as his fingers tightened faintly around Varesh’s hand. "If we step away now...then Zahryssar will bleed every single day."

The execution grounds fell silent around them. Only distant palace bells echoed faintly through the crimson evening.

"So even with hatred in your chest..." Arkhazunn’s tired eyes met Varesh’s directly. "...you must remain standing."

Varesh stared at him quietly afterward and slowly—he realized Arkhazunn was right.

Because abandoning the empire now would only leave monsters uncontested, Varesh blinked because only now did he fully realize, Arkhazunn was still holding his hand.

Immediately his entire expression changed; a faint blush appeared embarrassingly fast across his face, and quickly he pulled his hand away awkwardly afterward.

"We..." He cleared his throat immediately, avoiding Arkhazunn’s eyes entirely. "...we should continue searching for the Malika and Malik."

For one brief second Arkhazunn looked genuinely amused, very faintly and almost invisibly. Then quietly he answered, "...indeed."

And beneath the blood-colored skies of Zahryssar, two exhausted men continued standing between loyalty and collapse.

***

[Thalryn — Northern Territory of House Veyrhold — Night]

Snow fell endlessly across the northern lands of Thalryn. Unlike Zahryssar’s burning deserts and black storms, this kingdom looked quiet, cold, and beautiful.

Massive pine forests surrounded the northern roads. Silver lanterns glowed warmly through the snowfall, standing proudly upon the snowy hills. The Veyrhold Estate overlooked the frozen lands like an ancient guardian watching over Thalryn itself.

The exhausted carriage finally crossed the iron gates, and immediately Zyvera pressed herself dramatically against the carriage window.

Eyes sparkling brightly.

"...oh." Snowflakes reflected beautifully across her eyes afterward. "...I suddenly understand why northern nobles refuse to leave this place."

Beside her, Raviel looked equally exhausted beneath his soaked cloak, though unlike Zyvera—he looked seconds away from collapsing.

Zyvera kept staring outside shamelessly. The beautiful snowy gardens, the massive estate, the elegant northern architecture, and the warm lanterns glowing beneath snowfall.

Then suddenly she gasped dramatically.

"What if..." She slowly looked toward Duke Aren Veyrhold, sitting silently across from them. "...I seduce the Duke and marry into this estate?"

Silence.

Raviel slowly turned his head toward her afterward, then stared at her from head to toe.

Once, twice, and three times, and finally he answered flatly, "...not even dying men would look at you."

Immediately, Zyvera looked horrified. "YOU SNAKE-LOOKING THIEF—!"

"I am gorgeous!"

"You resemble an angry desert lizard!"

Raviel scoffed lazily afterward. "You nearly drowned twice yesterday."

"That is called sacrifice for beauty."

"That is called incompetence."

Meanwhile outside the carriage, northern servants struggled not to laugh hearing the siblings argue, but unlike the siblings, Duke Aren remained completely silent, still and restless because, despite finally reaching Thalryn—his son was still missing.

Then quietly, almost like someone speaking to himself, he murmured:

"...I cannot remain calm."

The carriage atmosphere shifted instantly afterward; even Zyvera stopped complaining. Duke Aren slowly lowered his gaze toward the snowfall outside, worry openly shadowing his expression now.

"I must visit the Imperial Palace."

Raviel frowned immediately. "The palace?"

Duke Aren nodded slowly. "I need answers. I need to find what truly happened after Levin escaped from Zahryssar."

The snowfall outside thickened heavily.

Raviel’s expression finally becoming serious. "With all respect, Duke...returning toward Zahryssar now may be equivalent to stepping into a serpent nest willingly."

But Duke Aren’s eyes only darkened further.

"I do not care." The words came instantly, firmly, without hesitation. "That child...is still my son."

Silence swallowed the carriage afterward because suddenly—no one could argue with him anymore.

And far away beneath the wolf-clan skies, Levin still believed himself abandoned and alone, completely unaware that both enemies and family were already moving across kingdoms searching for him.