Kaelith finally distanced himself, stopping at an arm's length as a thought briefly intruded upon his mind.
It was fleeting—dangerously so.
For the briefest moment, something unreadable passed through his eyes. A flicker of interest. Of calculation. Perhaps even restraint. Then it vanished, buried beneath layers of composure he had perfected over the years.
He straightened, every trace of intimacy stripped away, returning seamlessly to the cool, distant ruler the world knew.
"Go and get ready," he said, his tone calm and unyielding. "I will see you at dinner."
He turned as though the matter were already settled, taking a step toward the door before pausing.
"Stay here," he added without looking back. "I will send a maid for you. We will talk later."
The door closed behind him with a soft but final sound.
The corridor outside was silent.
Then the shadows moved.
A presence unfolded itself from the darkness behind him, soundless and seamless, as though it had always been there. It leaned close, whispering discreetly—words meant for Kaelith alone.
Kaelith listened.
Slowly, a smile spread across his face. It was not warm. It was not kind. It was sharp, bright with intrigue, a dangerous glimmer igniting in his eyes.
"How fascinating," he murmured.
He turned toward the shadow, which shifted and solidified, taking on a vaguely human form—features obscured, edges blurred as though reality itself struggled to define it.
"Do me a favor," Kaelith said smoothly. "Send that ginger-haired servant to Yuri."
The shadow inclined its head in a short, obedient nod.
Then it vanished—dissolving into nothingness without so much as a ripple in the air.
Kaelith resumed walking.
Servants appeared along the corridor as he moved deeper into the palace, each one freezing the moment they sensed his approach. They bowed deeply, foreheads nearly touching the floor, eyes fixed downward in reverence and fear.
None dared look at him.
None dared speak.
Kaelith did not spare them even a glance.
He passed the sealed doors of the forbidden wing, the ancient sigils glowing faintly in warning, and continued on without hesitation. Stairs spiraled downward, stone growing colder beneath his boots as he descended into the depths of the castle.
The air shifted the instant he crossed into the underground dungeon.
It was thick—heavy with iron, old blood, and lingering magic. The smell was unsettling, a disturbing concoction that clung to the walls like a curse. To most, it would have been suffocating.
To Kaelith, it was familiar.
Almost comforting.
Memories stirred, old and sharp, but he did not slow. Torches flickered weakly as he passed rows of empty cells, their bars rusted, their silence deafening. Whatever had once occupied them was long gone—dead, forgotten, or worse.
Deeper still, faint chanting echoed through the stone.
As Kaelith entered the chamber from which it originated, his brow creased slightly.
Kayden stepped away immediately, sensing him before he was fully visible. His hands were clean—unexpectedly so—and he lazily twirled a dagger between his fingers, as though this were nothing more than an inconvenience interrupting his day.
Beside him stood Ryan.
Blood stained Ryan's hands, arms, and face, his clothes splattered carelessly as though the violence were an afterthought. Ryan was smiling—bright, casual, unsettlingly cheerful.
Though execution was not officially his role, he had volunteered often enough that no one questioned it anymore. A senior court member despite his youth, Ryan was handsome, charming, and endlessly polite.
But anyone who had ever seen that smile directed at them knew the truth.
When Ryan smiled like that, death was already inevitable.
"Your Majesty," Ryan said, bowing deeply.
Before Kaelith could respond, a hoarse female voice cut sharply through the air.
"Kaelith, stop this madness at once!"
The chanting stopped abruptly.
Bound to the enchanted restraints at the center of the chamber, the woman lifted her head. Her face was so badly bloodied that recognition was nearly impossible. Bruises marred her skin, and dried blood caked her features.
Yet her voice—clear, furious, unmistakable—cut through the silence.
Her once-magnificent gown, silk and jewels befitting nobility, was soaked red.
Lady Selene.
Ryan turned, his smile widening, and struck her lightly across the face.
"Shut up, woman," he said casually. "When the elders are talking."
He turned back to Kaelith as if she were nothing more than background noise.
Selene did not quiet down.
Instead, her voice rose, desperation twisting into hysteria.
"You have no idea what's coming for you!" she shouted. "Why would you abandon me for that fake?"
Ryan lifted his hand, irritation flashing briefly across his face, clearly intending to strike her harder.
He stopped.
Kaelith's gaze had shifted to him.
That was all it took.
Ryan lowered his hand instantly, clicking his tongue in mock disappointment.
"The girl has something, doesn't she?" Selene continued, a grotesque smile spreading across her swollen lips. "I knew it from the very start. I felt it. That—"
She never finished the sentence.
Kaelith was suddenly in front of her.
His hand closed around her throat with terrifying ease, lifting her from the restraints as her feet left the ground. Her eyes widened, fingers clawing weakly at his wrist as she gasped for air.
"You have a death wish," Kaelith said softly, his voice calm and chilling. "Worry not. I will grant it—eventually."
Her struggles weakened as her face darkened, breath failing.
Then, without warning, he released her.
Selene collapsed back against the bindings, coughing violently as she struggled to draw air into her lungs. Kaelith withdrew a handkerchief, wiping the blood from his fingers with meticulous care, his expression one of mild distaste.
Her eyes snapped toward Kayden, who was watching the scene with feigned boredom, absently inspecting his dagger.
"I've already sent a message to my family…" Selene rasped.
The dagger struck her chest before she could finish the sentence.
Her eyes flew open, mouth frozen mid-breath as the blade pierced straight through her heart.
"And we will be waiting, darling," Kayden said calmly, pulling the dagger free in one smooth motion.
Silence fell over the chamber.
Ryan scratched the back of his neck, staring down at Selene's lifeless body.
"Well," he said lightly, "for beginners, that's not very good news."
"They wouldn't dare do anything reckless like their beloved here," Kaelith replied coldly as he stepped forward.
He lifted Selene's limp hand and removed the ornate family ring from her finger, examining the insignia briefly before closing his fist around it.
"Well," Ryan added thoughtfully, "I heard the Ravenhurst family formed an alliance with the Galnderfella family."
Kayden frowned slightly. "Then just in case, we should have that wedding sooner rather than later."
Kaelith said nothing.
But the silence was answer enough.