Nystrix dreamed.
It was not the drifting haze of ordinary sleep but something sharper, as if memory itself had clawed its way into her mind.
She saw a man—broad-shouldered, fierce, eyes burning with the same molten fire that lived in her veins. Slagus. Her father. His laugh was rough but warm as he lifted her mother into the air, in a field of Wistera, strong and protective arms on her waist. Her mother's eyes shone with joy and love, brighter than any crown, and her blue hair flowed in the wind, the scene was loving and romantic.
The dream shifted.
Flames licked the edges of the vision, and Slagus stood before them, shield raised, teeth bared, keeping death itself at bay. Jacqueline clutched a tiny bundle—her. Nystrix felt the heat, the terror, the thunder of footsteps behind them. Yet her father never faltered. He was wall and fire, a force no one could move.
The dream darkened.
Chains snapped around Slagus's wrists, glowing cruelly with enchantment. He roared, the sound shaking her bones, but the shackles bit deep. In the shadows behind him stood Jamyd, his smirk like a blade cutting hope in two.
Her father's eyes found her mother and her one last time—wild, desperate, but unbroken.
And then darkness swallowed him whole.
Nystrix woke with a gasp.
The chamber was hushed, lit only by the faint silver glow of the moons. Sweat clung to her skin, her breath ragged. For a moment, she clutched her sheets, as though the chains from her dream might follow her into waking.
"You're awake."
The voice startled her. She turned sharply—and froze.
Luthien sat in the chair beside her bed, cloaked in shadow, his eyes gleaming faintly in the low light. His posture was relaxed, almost lazy, but his gaze never wavered from her.
"Luthien?" she whispered, blinking. "Did you… not sleep?"
He arched a brow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Of course I slept."
It was a lie. She could see it in the stillness of his face, the slight rasp in his voice, the way his hands rested too carefully on the arm of the chair. He had not closed his eyes once.
Her cheeks warmed despite herself. "Why would you…?"
"Because," he said simply, "Gadmyne came. With Niven and Lynch. They wanted to see you. I told them you were still sleeping." His smirk curved. "I wasn't wrong."
Nystrix's blush deepened.
Oh God, What would Gadmyne think?
She looked away, biting her lip, then forced the words out before courage could fail her. "Luthien… there's something I want to tell you."
He tilted his head, studying her. "Go on."
Her fists clenched in the sheets. "I want to find him. My father. Slagus. He's out there—I saw him. I know he's alive. And I can't… I can't stay still while he's locked away."
The words hung between them, sharp and trembling.
Luthien's smirk faded. His eyes, dark as endless night, narrowed—not in mockery, but in thought. He leaned closer, his voice low.
"You believe he still lives?"
"Yes," she whispered fiercely. "And I will find him. No matter what it takes."
For a long moment, Luthien said nothing. His gaze lingered on her, unreadable, as if weighing her fire against the weight of chains she had never seen.
Finally, he chuckled softly—not mocking, but almost admiring. "You really are impossible."
Nystrix's heart pounded. But she met his gaze, unflinching.
And in that silence, her dream still echoed: her father's eyes, blazing with fire.
Nystrix's voice still echoed in the chamber, sharp with conviction.
Luthien leaned back in his chair, studying her as though she were some rare, untamed thing—something he wanted to both cage and set free just to watch what she would do.
"You'll tear the realms apart chasing ghosts," he murmured, his tone quiet but edged with amusement. "Do you even realize the weight of what you're saying?"
"I don't care." The words spilled out before she could stop them. She sat straighter, her fists balled in her lap. "He's my father. If Jamyd has him—if he's alive—then I can't just sit here while everyone plots, while everyone plays politics like it's a game." Her voice cracked, her throat tight. "I have to find him. I have to."
The silence after was heavy, broken only by the faint hum of magic in the palace walls.
Then, slowly, Luthien rose from his chair. The shadows clung to him as he crossed the short distance to her bed. He didn't ask permission; he never did. He simply lowered himself onto the edge of the mattress, close enough that the heat of him brushed her skin.
"Little hybrid," he said softly, almost like a sigh. "You burn so bright you don't see how dangerous you are."
Her heart stumbled in her chest. "Dangerous to who?"
"To everyone." His lips curved faintly. "To Jamyd. To the Noctarii. To me."
The way he said it made her breath falter. She swallowed, meeting his gaze head-on. "Then why stay near me?"
Luthien chuckled, low and dark, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek with a fingertip. "Because I've already decided. Whether you want me or not… you're mine to watch."
Nystrix's pulse quickened, torn between irritation and something she didn't want to name. "You can't just decide that."
"I can," he said, his smirk lazy but his eyes sharp. "And I have."
Her lips parted, ready to argue—but the words caught in her throat. For all his arrogance, for all his infuriating certainty, there was something in his gaze she hadn't expected: not just possession, but something raw. Something she almost mistook for care.
Her resolve wavered, just for a heartbeat. Then she exhaled, turning her eyes away. "I don't belong to anyone, Luthien."
His laugh was softer this time, almost fond. "You keep saying that. And yet…" He leaned closer, his voice brushing against her ear. "I've never met anyone who wears chains so proudly while insisting they're free."
She froze. His words cut deep, stirring something she didn't want stirred.
But before she could reply, his hand dropped from her cheek, and he pulled back, the smirk slipping back into place like a mask. "Go on then. Chase your father. Burn the world if you must. Just don't expect me to save you when it collapses."
"You're lying," she whispered before she could stop herself.
Luthien tilted his head, amused. "Am I?"
The air between them tightened, electric, until the sharp sound of footsteps outside shattered it. A knock followed, firm and deliberate.
"Nystrix?" Gadmyne's voice.
Nystrix startled, heat flooding her cheeks. Luthien only smirked and stood, his cloak rippling as if nothing had just happened. He cast her one last glance over his shoulder, eyes glinting with unspoken promises.
Then he called lightly, "She's awake now."
Gadmyne pushed the door open and stared at the messy haired Nystrix whose face was red.
"Finally, sleeping beauty is awake." Gadmyne spoke with no expression on her face.
Nystrix pulled the blanket close to her face.
Gadmyne eyes narrowed and she looked stern,
"Now tell me, did this rouge sleep in your room?"
"..."
Nystrix could not reply, and Luthien, of course, said lazily, with an air of nonchalance,
"Gadmyne, this rouge you speak of is her man, so there is no problem."
Gadmyne faced Luthien with a snarl.
"Don't you dare trick this girl, Luthien."
"I'm not tricking anybody, Gadmyne." Was Luthien finally statement before leaving the room.
With the two of them left in the room, Gadmyne faced Nystrix with more than tender sterness.
"He must told you not to trust me, and I'll tell you not to trust him."
Nystrix brows furrowed. A mix of confusion and unease colliding in her eyes but Gadmyne didn't plan to explain and threw her the final bomb.
"Get ready, as a disciple of the Noctarii, you have to attend the meeting."