KILL THEM.
The command tore through Louis's skull like a shard of ice.
He flinched, clutching his head, vision blurring as the words echoed inside him. The whispers weren't distant anymore. They were clear, sharp, merciless.
And this time, they demanded blood.
Louis staggered, trying to steady his breath. Why now? Why so clear? Why them? He pushed the thought back toward the voice—Why?
The answer came as a distorted echo, stretched and broken, like glass grinding against glass. K… i… l… l… The sound crawled through his skull, leaving afterimages of the word hanging in his mind even after the voice vanished. The silence it left behind was worse—like something waiting, crouched in the dark of his own head.
He stood frozen, chest rising and falling too fast. Weird… just telling me to kill, without reason? His lips tightened. I don't get it. But I can't let anyone here see me break.
The marble beneath his shoes still glittered with frost from the Tsar's aura, the chill biting up his legs. All around, nobles stood in silence, lined along the hall like statues in silk and steel. Their eyes pressed on him, sharp as blades.
Louis swallowed, forcing his gaze forward. Amara and Neo were waiting at the edge of the carpet, near the colossal doors. They stood straight, composed, though he caught the slight tilt of Amara's chin, urging him silently to move.
Every step toward them felt like dragging chains. The nobles didn't move, but their gazes followed him. He imagined them whispering in their heads, even if no sound passed their lips. Unworthy. Foreign. Black Iris. Dangerous.
Louis forced a thin smile, trying to act casual. "So… how are you two holding up?"
Neo's eyes flicked to him sharply. He leaned in just enough to mutter, "Not here. Walls have ears."
Louis's stomach dropped. He glanced around, catching more stares, then nodded quickly. "Right. I get it. Let's go."
Neo and Amara moved first. Their bows were perfect, practiced. "Our thanks, Your Majesty," Neo said clearly, his tone full of respect.
Amara dipped her head low, her voice smooth and melodic. "May Belgari endure."
When she rose, her eyes flicked to Louis. For just a heartbeat, she gave him the briefest, playful blink. It wasn't long enough for anyone else to catch—but enough to loosen the knot in his chest.
Louis hesitated. Both of them had spoken so gracefully, their words polished like ritual. His throat went dry.
Okay, Louis. Just… copy them. Easy. You're the Copycat, right?
He bent forward stiffly, voice cracking as he blurted, "Uh… thank you, Your Majesty, may… uh… everything be… good?"
The silence that followed was absolute.
A noblewoman muffled a laugh into her jeweled sleeve. Another man coughed into his fist, poorly disguising his smirk. Amara bit her lip, her shoulders trembling. Even Neo closed his eyes and shook his head faintly.
On the thrones—Vey's mask cracked. The corners of her lips twitched, and her eyes lowered, fighting to hide the spark of amusement.
But Dima… the ever-cool, untouchable prince, who had fought Louis with icy precision, actually let out the faintest, strangled laugh. He covered it quickly with a sharp cough, but the smirk lingered. For once, Louis hadn't mirrored him perfectly—and the sight was almost too much.
Louis straightened too fast, his face burning crimson. "Right. Nailed it," he muttered under his breath.
The Tsar did not comment. His glacial presence remained steady, but there was no scorn in his eyes—only a calm weight, as if to say: You'll learn.
Neo and Amara turned for the doors, their steps steady. Louis hurried after them, wishing the frost would just crack open and swallow him.
Behind him, faint voices finally rose from the nobles, low and cutting:
"Disgraceful."
"Childish."
"…or maybe dangerous."
He clenched his jaw, refusing to turn back. Not at the King, not at Vey's suppressed smile, not at Dima's lingering smirk.
The hall that had nearly swallowed him whole was behind him now. Ahead lay only the cold stone corridor—and the path the Tsar had chosen for him.
***
They stepped out of the throne hall, the massive doors thundering shut with a final, echoing boom. The heavy air lifted at once, replaced by the crisp sound of their footsteps on stone. Torches burned steadily along the hallway, their flames unnaturally still, while pale blue runes glowed faintly on the walls as though the stones themselves were breathing.
"So…" Neo broke the silence with a wicked grin, "how in the world did you manage that back there?" He pitched his voice high, imitating Louis's nervous bow. "'Uh, thank you, Your Majesty, may… everything be good?'"
Louis groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Stop it."
"BWAHAHAHAHAHA!" Neo doubled over, slapping his knee as his laughter echoed down the corridor. His whole body shook as if he might collapse.
"Quiet! They'll hear us," Louis hissed, glancing back at the sealed doors.
Neo waved him off between gasps of laughter. "Relax, bro. These halls are sealed tighter than a coffin. No sound, no aura leaks outside unless the Tsar allows it. That's the point—you can't disturb what happens in there." He grinned wickedly. "So I can laugh as loud as I want."
And he did. "HAHAHA—oh man—may everything be good?! I'm dying!"
Even Amara pressed her hand to her lips, shoulders shaking. A soft giggle escaped before she could stop it, and Louis's ears burned hotter.
Neo, still wheezing, suddenly straightened, puffed out his chest, and mimicked Louis's awkward bow with exaggerated flourish: "May everything be goooood, Your Majesty!" His voice cracked like a bad actor, and he wobbled so hard he nearly toppled over.
Amara burst out laughing, bending forward, her hair spilling over her shoulder as she clutched her stomach.
"Stop it!" Louis hissed, his face crimson. He wasn't sure if he was more embarrassed by Neo's antics or by how gorgeous Amara looked with laughter in her eyes.
"Alright, enough," Amara finally managed, wiping at her eyes. She brushed a strand of hair back, her gaze softening as she looked at Louis. "Don't listen to him. I thought it was… kind of adorable."
Louis's blush deepened. Great. Embarrassed in front of a Tsar, and now I'm blushing like a schoolboy.
Neo groaned dramatically. "Oh please, Amara. You say that to everyone."
Amara only smiled, sly and unbothered.
"Fuck you, bro," Louis muttered, glaring weakly. "At least let me feel good for five minutes."
Neo raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I'll shut up. For now."
Their footsteps echoed as they walked on, laughter slowly fading into an easier silence.
Finally, Louis asked, "So… how did you two end up here anyway?"
Neo straightened, all smug pride. "We're representatives. Each kingdom sends someone to Belgari's court. Amara's from Deamouss. I'm from Belphegor."
Louis blinked. "Wait, don't tell me—you two are also prince and princess?"
Amara laughed softly, shaking her head. "No, not heirs. Yes, we're from royal families, but not like Dima or Vey. They're crown children. We're just… branches."
Louis threw his hands up. "So basically everyone I meet is royal. Can I please just talk to a normal person?"
Neo chuckled. "Easy, bro. We don't treat you any different. Here, we're all just Echoers. Representatives like us are meant to keep the balance—make sure no kingdom grows too greedy or too strong. If one builds too much military power, the others know. If one acts against the others, the court sees it first. Respect and control—two sides of the same coin."
"And for the record," Amara added, leaning closer with a glint in her eye, "I like you, Louis."
His heart skipped. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, cheeks blazing. Is this… the end of my single life?
Neo snorted. "She says that to everyone."
Amara's smile only widened, wicked and sweet.
"Ugh. You're impossible," Louis muttered.
"Sorry, bro," Neo teased, "couldn't resist."
The three of them laughed again, the tension from the throne hall finally lifting off Louis's shoulders.
At last, they reached another massive gate. Unlike the throne hall's doors of black stone, this one was carved from silvery metal that shimmered faintly in the torchlight. Complex runes crawled across its surface, glowing with pulses of light like a heartbeat. The air around it hummed faintly, and Louis felt the hairs on his arms rise.
Neo spread his arms dramatically. "Here it is. The Academy."
Louis blinked, eyes wide. "Wait—that's inside here? I thought we'd have to go outside the city."
Amara chuckled, her voice lilting. "Darling, hiding something like this outside? Impossible. Besides, not all Echoers are equal. The weaker ones live beyond these walls, struggling to survive. But here—it's only for the chosen. For those with real potential."
Louis frowned. "Wait—you mean there are Echoers weaker than me?"
"Of course," Amara said lightly. "And don't sell yourself short. You're not bad, Louis. Matching Dima in the hall—even if he only used a fraction of his strength—that's already more than most Echoers in court could handle."
Louis let out a breath, the weight in his chest easing. So I'm not hopeless after all.
Neo smirked. "But you're still not stronger than us."
Louis groaned. "Bro, stop killing my happiness!"
Neo laughed, shrugging. "Sorry. Couldn't resist again."
Before Louis could retort, the gates began to move.
KRIIEEEK!
Light burst from the cracks, flooding the corridor with blinding brilliance. The runes flared to life, silver and blue surging like lightning unleashed.
Before Louis could raise his arms, the brilliance condensed—no longer just light, but force. It slammed into him with bone-cracking weight.
"GHHHH!" The air ripped from his lungs as pain exploded through his chest. He was hurled back, ribs snapping like dry twigs under the impact. The corridor spun; his body struck stone, skidding across the floor before slamming to a stop.
Louis gasped, clutching his side. His vision blurred, tears stinging his eyes as he fought against the white-hot agony that radiated through his ribs.
Through the haze, something moved.
The light… it wasn't fading. It was standing. A figure, blurred and indistinct, framed in silver fire.
Louis squinted, but the tears made the shape waver, ghostly and unreal. He couldn't make out a face, only the sense of presence—terrifying, overwhelming, undeniable.
His breath rattled in his throat. His vision darkened at the edges.
And then, in that frozen instant, the truth hit him.
This wasn't the Academy welcoming him.
This was someone waiting for him.
The last thing Louis saw before the world collapsed into pain was the blurry figure, unmoving, watching him from within the light.