The atmosphere inside the inner sanctum of the Blackwood Manor was heavy and sterile. Outside, the heavy, rhythmic tolling of the funeral bells began to vibrate through the stone walls. The sound was a signal to the kingdom that the Everhart heir and his shield were no more.
Inside the chamber, the reality was far more active. Two mahogany caskets sat open in the center of the room. Inside them lay two waxen figures, crafted with terrifying precision.
They wore the faces of August and Elias. The decoys were dressed in high-collared burial finery, their skin painted with the pallor of the morgue.
Lady Katherine had ensured that every detail was perfect so that even the most suspicious noble would see only death.
August stood before a tall mirror. He did not look like a man who had recently escaped the grave. His smoke-grey eyes were cold and focused.
He pulled on a pair of pristine white silk gloves, smoothing the fabric over his pale fingers. He then reached for a heavy, deep-hooded cloak. It was not a garment of the Blackwood house. It was a disguise designed to swallow his silhouette entirely.
Beside him, Elias was struggling. The knight was swathed in a long cloak of dark, heavy silk. He tugged at the hem, his jaw tight and his emerald eyes burning with irritation. To a man who spent his life in iron and leather, the softness of the silk felt like an insult.
August turned his head slightly. His expression was a wall of ice. He adjusted his hood, ensuring his silver curls were tucked away.
"If you do not wear it, do not expect anyone to fail to recognize your height and your stride," August said. His voice was flat and clinical. "You are a giant, Elias. The cloak breaks your shape. Unless you wish to announce our survival to the King immediately, you will remain covered."
Elias's brows knitted together. He clenched his jaw so hard the bone jumped beneath his skin. He muttered a string of curses under his breath.
"Hmph. It is way too embarrassing," Elias whispered. He shifted his shoulders, trying to find a comfortable way to stand in the luxurious garment.
The door to the chamber groaned open. Lirael stepped inside. He moved with a quiet, ghost-like grace. He too was dressed for the journey, his frame hidden by a long, dark travel cloak. His hands were covered by silvery gloves that shimmered faintly in the candlelight.
Both Elias and August turned their eyes toward him. The room became quiet, save for the distant sound of the mourning bells.
"We should not waste more time," August said. He stepped away from the mirror. "The nobles are already arriving at the front gates. The distraction is at its peak."
August walked toward the center of the room. His mind was already miles away, calculating the path toward the Althérian Dominion.
"We need to find out who is behind everything," August continued. "I have a certain feeling that the person who murdered my parents is the same one currently murdering officials in broad daylight. The methodology is too precise. It is the work of a single architect."
Elias hissed again, still preoccupied with the silk cloak, but August ignored him entirely.
Lirael looked between the two men. His magenta eyes were filled with a visible, nervous shyness. He adjusted his hood with trembling fingers.
"Are the three of us truly enough for such a big hunt?" Lirael asked. His voice was small, echoing in the large room.
August turned his head. His silver curls flipped over his shoulder with a sharp motion.
"We are," August replied. "Elias is the strongest blade. And you... you can heal anything."
Lirael gasped. He took a small step back, his eyes widening. August stepped closer to him, his smoke-grey eyes narrowing with suspicion.
"I know you had something all along," August said. "I am not a fool, Lirael. My chest was shredded. I was dead. I would not have survived without a miracle. An 'easy remedy' does not stitch a heart back together."
Elias stopped fumbling with his cloak. He turned a sharp, questioning gaze toward Lirael.
"He is right," Elias said. His voice was deep and suspicious. "What do you have that can heal a poisoned heart so easily? That kind of power is rare. It belongs to the legends of the old gods."
Lirael averted his gaze. He looked at the floor, his face flushing. He gripped the edges of his cloak tightly.
"It... it was an easy remedy," Lirael lied. He spoke the words quickly, his voice shaking.
Neither August nor Elias had actually seen the golden light or the tears. They had been unconscious or blinded by the chaos. Lirael knew he had to keep the secret of his immortality and his blood. If they knew what he was, they would look at him with fear or judgement. He did not want to be a miracle; he just wanted to be with them.
August watched him for a long moment. He did not believe the lie, but he did not have the time to peel it apart.
"We cannot waste our time on secrets now," August said. He turned toward a hidden door behind the tapestry. "The exit is ready. Follow me."
Outside the private exit, the Blackwood Manor was becoming a sea of black lace and white lilies. Nobles from every surrounding territory were gathering. They brought flowers and practiced expressions of grief. They whispered about the tragedy of the Everhart line and the loss of the brilliant August.
Inside the main hall, Lady Katherine stood near the grand staircase. She was the picture of a grieving matriarch, her dark black dress spreading around her like a pool of ink. She held a black lace fan, her eyes dry but her expression frozen in a mask of agony.
Beside her, Everin was struggling. He was supposed to be the grieving cousin, the one who would take over the household duties. But Everin was terrified.
"Aunt, please," Everin whispered, leaning close to her. "I cannot do this. We are lying to the world. We are lying to the gods."
Lady Katherine did not look at him. Her eyes stayed on the front doors.
"You will act, Everin. You will act as though you are in deep grief. If you fail, the King will notice. And if the King notices, we all die."
"But Aunt!" Everin hissed. He was breathing quickly. "If something really happens to August because of this lie? They say that if you lie about the death of someone dear to you, it becomes a reality.
The universe listens. I am scared. My cousin has already suffered every kind of pain."
Everin suddenly became dramatic. He collapsed against Lady Katherine's legs, grabbing the heavy hem of her dress. He looked up at her with large, panicked eyes.
"Please, Aunt. I can't do it. I can't bury an empty casket while he's still out there with that gorilla," Everin cried, his voice pressed against her skirts.
Lady Katherine sighed. It was a long, weary sound. she looked down at the top of Everin's head with utter annoyance.
"Nobody speaks like that, you fool," Katherine said. Her voice was sharp and low. "Get up. You are making a scene before the guests even enter. If you truly do not want to help him, then leave."
Everin stood up instantly. He brushed off his trousers and straightened his vest. He looked at the door with a pout, but his eyes were still flickering with fear. He truly believed in the curse of the lie.
"I am doing this for August," Everin muttered.
Outside the manor, in the dark woods, three figures moved quietly through the trees. They left behind a house in mourning and headed toward what came next.
August led the way, his white gloves visible in the moonlight. He did not look back. His attention was fixed ahead—on the throne of the man who believed he had already won.