The grand doors of the throne room swung inward on silent hinges.
Caelum walked ahead with the forced cheer of someone convinced everything was still under his control, Kale keeping stride effortlessly beside him.
Shia's clone drifted alongside, brimming with excitement, fingers playing with the folds of her skirt, while Aster followed one steady step behind, golden eyes half-closed, hands tucked away in her wide sleeves.
"How was your journey?" Caelum asked.
"Not too bad, not too bad," Kale replied with a relaxed smile, his winter-blue eyes sweeping the hall as he noted the empty spaces at the dais where three royal seats should have been filled. His brow furrowed in polite puzzlement.
"I see the youngest prince, the little princess, and Her Majesty the Queen are absent. I had hoped to pay my respects to the entire Solace line."
Caelum began to speak, but Kale lifted a gloved hand, gentle and almost apologetic.
"Actually, before we get caught up in formalities, let me indulge in a little tradition of mine." His voice dropped to that velvety tone that had already toppled three thrones.
At these words, Aster's eyes narrowed slightly as he lingered behind his father and Shia.
"I have a habit—call it superstition—of asking new friends for one simple promise when I step into their home.
Nothing too heavy," he said with a pause before continuing.
"Just for today, whatever I suggest or whichever path seems best, you'll agree to it as if it were your own idea all along. It's a silly ritual, but it keeps bad luck from following me through doorways."
He met each of their gazes in turn, his smile warm and inviting.
Shia's clone moved first, still playing the fame-driven fairy as she stepped forward with fluttering lashes and clasped hands.
"Of course, Lord Kale! I'll agree to anything, as long as you let me stand by your side as your wife."
The words came out breathy and eager, perfectly matching the act the court had come to expect from the fame-hungry princess.
A faint shimmer, unseen by anyone else, snapped into place around the clone's throat like a black choker woven from shadow.
[Mark - Shia Solace???]
Kale's brow arched slightly as he studied his status screen. For the first time, it appeared with question marks.
'Hmm? Well, as long as she's marked.' His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by laughter.
Caelum laughed—too loud, too fast.
"Of course! Anything the great Kale Voss desires today, I'll declare as my own stroke of genius!"
Another shimmer, heavier and colder, coiled around the king's neck like an iron torque.
[Mark - Caelum Solace | +600 EL]
[Current EL- Mid Rank A (9,350 EL)]
'Weird...' Kale thought before his gaze slid to Aster last, mild and expectant.
[A/N: Here he's talking about the difference in status. Shia's displayed question marks, while Caelum's displayed correctly.]
Aster dipped his head, his voice slick and untroubled.
"The King's will is mine, Lord Voss. No need to waste breath on a mere prince when the trunk has already spoken." Kale's smile tugged wider, letting the deflection slide for now.
The air in the throne room felt suddenly colder, despite sunlight still streaming through the windows.
"Excellent," Kale murmured, before turning to Caelum with a tone suddenly easy and warm—the voice of one king addressing another who had already yielded.
"Then, since it's your idea, why not hand me the crown for safekeeping—along with the private ledgers, troop rosters, and the locations of every hidden vault? We wouldn't want any… confusion."
Caelum's gaze went distant for a heartbeat.
When focus returned, it carried the awed devotion of a man who'd just remembered the smartest plan he'd ever had. Without hesitation, he lifted the flame crown from his head and held it out to Kale.
"Of course," he said with a bright smile. "I always meant to entrust them to you."
Kale took the crown as if it weighed nothing, his fingers gliding over the warm gold like greeting an old friend.
"And the youngest prince?" he asked casually. "Ash, wasn't it? And sweet little Nia? The Queen too—where are they?"
Caelum's smile didn't falter. "Ash betrayed the kingdom and ran off with that ungrateful girl five days ago. Lyssandra disappeared a few days later, leaving behind some insulting note."
'Pathetic. A king who can't even keep his own dogs in line...' Kale thought as something cold and vast stirred in his chest, though his face stayed the perfect mask of sympathetic concern.
"How unfortunate. Rest assured, under my guidance, Solace will never face such betrayal again."
Aster remained silent, golden eyes narrowed to slits, every word and micro-expression carefully noted.
'Agreement—that's the key. Verbal consent, freely given, no matter how it's disguised.' His shadow twitched along the floor, stretching just a bit too close to Kale's boots before retreating.
High above, on a long-forgotten balcony overlooking the throne room, the real Shia peered through a narrow gap in the curtains.
Frost curled across her skin in frantic, spiraling patterns as the snowflake sigil seared with a white-hot glow.
The moment her father set the crown in Kale's hands, wearing that blissful, vacant smile, something deep in her chest turned to ice.
"What the hell…" She couldn't make sense of what had just happened.
Moments ago, she'd been watching everything through her clone's eyes, but as soon as she agreed, something began to close in on her.
Without hesitation, she severed the connection and came here to find out what was going on.
'Rising from this rubble isn't possible anymore…' she thought, turning away without a sound and pulling her travel cloak snug around her.
The clone downstairs would keep up the act until nightfall.
By the time Kale came to claim his "bride," all he'd find in the bridal suite was an empty bed.
Shia slipped through a side gate, her boots quiet on cobblestones cooling under the fading sun.
The kingdom was gone. Her father was gone. For now, her freedom was the only crown that mattered.
Behind her, the palace bells tolled in new colors—black and crimson replacing gold. Ahead, the horizon stretched wide and cold.
It was time to run.
Back inside the throne room, while Kale and his companions drifted through private documents and vaults, Aster had already melted into the corridors like smoke.
His time in this dying kingdom was over.
He had harvested what he came for: the key to stand against the only SSS-rank in history.
As he passed beneath the capital's gates for the last time, Aster glanced toward the distant storm clouds that forever crowned Ebonreach.
"Oh, King…" he murmured, lips curving into a serpent's smile. "Your date has come."
The wind carried his words away, and the shadows followed him home.