"You can make new friends," Elder Yeom said gravely, his eyes fixed on Victor,
"but you cannot make new family."
The words lingered like a warning.
"Victor of the Southeast Coven," the leading Elder said,
"do you comply with the Council's judgment?"
For a moment, Victor did not answer.
Then—
With a dull thud, he dropped to one knee.
"I, Victor of the Southeast Coven," he said, voice steady despite the weight crushing his chest,
"comply with the judgment of the Council."
Elder Yeom released a breath he had not realized he was holding.
The Eastern Elder laughed, clapping his hands as though watching a performance.
"At last," he said mockingly. "Some sense."
"Finally showing a bit of intelligence," the Northern Elder added.
"Rest now, child," the leading Elder said.
"The Heart Calming Pendant will be summoned tomorrow."
He turned into a streak of light and vanished from the court.
"I suppose you do know what is good for you," the Eastern Elder sneered as he left,
"and not merely how to be a useless son."
One by one, the Elders departed.
Only Victor and Elder Yeom remained.
Victor waited for rebuke.
For anger, for disappointment.
Instead—
His father said nothing.
Elder Yeom dissolved into a blue streak of light and left the hall.
Leaving Victor alone.
He remained kneeling, head bowed.
The path ahead of him was no longer one of right and wrong.
It was a path of trust… and betrayal.
We were only students, he thought bitterly.
How did we become the reason the world is going to war?
Politics had never been his battlefield.
When kings and empires moved,
whatever strength he possessed…
felt meaningless.
The next day came without ceremony.
Victor stood before the Elders in a hidden hall where ancient artifacts slept in silence.
He was made to sit.
A circle was drawn around him.
At the far corner, Elder Yeom knelt before the leading Elder.
"Elder," he said tightly,
"he is only a child. Not even a hundred years old.
Let me take his place. Let me pay the price of the Heart Calming Pendant."
The leading Elder's eyes narrowed.
"Western Elder," he said coldly,
"you have already given one son to be a War General.
Sacrificing another for the sake of the Southeast Coven is the least you can do to repay your position."
His voice hardened.
"I lost people back then too."
Then he turned away.
The ritual began.
Victor's blood was drawn.
His blood summoned the Heart Calming Pendant.
When it was over, they told him the fact:
He had exactly one month before the price of the Pendant would come for his life.
Alone at the training ground, Victor stood where he and his brother had once trained.
Memories spun until his head ached.
"Are you satisfied now?"
The cold voice came from behind.
Victor instantly dropped to one knee, fist to his chest.
"Father."
"Western Elder," the man corrected.
"Yes… Elder."
"Now that you have been used as bait against your will," his father said coldly,
"now that you must pay the price of a thousand years' troubled heart—
are you happy?"
His foot struck Victor's side.
Victor skidded across the ground.
"Why are you so naive?" Yeom continued.
Victor forced himself back to his knees.
A punch sent him flying.
"How difficult is it to understand how politics works?"
Again, Victor knelt.
His father seized his chin and forced him to look up.
"Because of you," he said quietly,
"I am being dragged back into the past."
Then he threw him away.
Victor crashed into the fence, breaking it apart.
Bruises formed—and faded before they could fully appear.
Still, he knelt.
"I'm sorry, father—"
"Western Elder," the man snapped, pointing at him.
"Do not ever call me father again."
Then he turned and left the training ground.
Leaving Victor alone.
Alone once more, Victor lifted his eyes to the clear evening sky.
A soft breath left him.
Why am I doing this?
The question echoed in his mind but no answer came.
Far away, at the ruins of the academy, Ramien dismissed the last of the undead.
Only Damien remained with him among the shattered stones.
Ramien had no way of knowing what was already moving toward him.
His anger still burned toward Xyldrak, for destroying his only chance to revive Reinna.
He had searched the academy from end to end, tearing through the rubble, but found nothing else that belonged to her.
Blackspire had been reduced to nothing but broken towers and dust.
"Ramien," Damien said quietly,
"if you cannot revive her here… what of the Underworld Queen?"
"Hades?" Ramien repeated.
This was not the human world.
Here, the Underworld was not a myth—it was a path that could be walked.
But a soul could only return
with the permission of its ruler.
"You're right," Ramien said slowly.
"But to reach her, I'll need the right artifacts… and the right spells."
He paused, pain tightening his chest.
"If only Ace were still here," he murmured.
"This would not be so difficult."
In his heart, he believed they were gone.
Ace, Alpha and Victor.
Long lost to the war.
And somewhere beneath the same sky—
One of them was being sent to find him, to betray him.
Ramien and Damien took to the skies, wings cutting through the cold air as they flew toward their distant castle.
If the path to the Underworld existed anywhere,
it would be written in the oldest tomes, hidden among forbidden spells and forgotten relics.
It would with no doubt be in their ancestral halls and they would find it.
Meanwhile, within the lands of the Southeast Coven, war was being prepared.
Armor was fastened.
Blades were sharpened.
Banners were raised.
Victor endured one final, cruel exchange with his father before he was summoned before the Council.
"Victor, Acting War General of the Southeast Coven," the leading Elder proclaimed,
"you will guide our army to the threat. You will claim the bounty. And you will prove your loyalty to your people."
A brief pause.
"May the ancestors watch over your path."
With those words, the warriors of the Southeast Coven set out for the hunt.
What none knew was that far beyond their world, beyond time and distance—
Fate watched.
She remembered where their story had begun.
She saw where it now stood.
And she knew where it was meant to end.
She was cruel to some.
Kind to others.
And sometimes—
She changed her mind.
Piece by piece, scheme by scheme, she watched her design unfold.