Suddenly, the colossal crystal ball pulsed with energy, its smooth surface illuminating in a mesmerizing cascade of flickering light. The air thrummed with arcane power as mana gathered at its core, coalescing into a swirling vortex of radiant hues. The gathered energy crackled softly before abruptly stabilizing, revealing—
A scene
The hazy scene wavered for a moment before sharpening, depicting what appeared to be a dimly lit dungeon or a tower chamber. The rough stone walls were lined with iron-barred windows, the faint glow of candlelight casting long, wavering shadows across the cold floor.
Seated near one of these narrow, jail-like windows was none other than King Zarek.
His crown was absent. His regal posture, always poised and unshaken, was gone. Instead, he sat hunched forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands gripping his head as if burdened by an unbearable weight.
The scene struck different reactions among the group.
The majority did not recognize the location, but two figures among them immediately knew what they were looking at.
For King Zarek, the realization hit like a punch to the chest. That place... It was the very tower he had been imprisoned in months ago. The cold walls, the iron windows, the suffocating isolation—there was no mistaking it.
For Shade, the scene was equally familiar but for a different reason. This was the tower where she had led her shadowwrath to infiltrate and fought to save her father. She remembered the battle vividly—the clash of steel, the relentless resistance of the undead, and the chance she took advantage of the Order Commander's distraction to break her father free from imprisonment as Marrowkai was indisposed due to Said Order Commandee Distraction.
And then, there was Marrowkai.
Trapped within his own spherical prison, he remained silent, unmoving—but inwardly, the sight struck a chord deeper than he cared to admit.
He knew this place.
He had been there.
Even though he wasn't visible in the projected vision, he could feel his presence lurking within the scene, hidden just beyond the reach of the flickering candlelight. The shadows had swallowed him whole, concealing him from the weak glow, yet he knew he had stood there somewhere in the darkness of the current scene tower chamber.
Even now, his bones carried the memory of that encounter.
The air in the iron chamber grew heavier as they all stared at the vision playing before them, each lost in their own thoughts.
The vision within the oversized crystal ball continued to play out, its glow casting an eerie light across the iron chamber.
Inside the scene, King Zarek remained seated, his posture weary, his hands still gripping his head. His voice, though quiet, carried through the dungeon cell with a weight that made even the flickering candlelight seem dimmer.
"So, what's the deal?"
His tone was bitter, edged with something between exhaustion and defiance.
"A pile of gold?"
A pause.
"You want your very own castle?"
As if in response to his words, the darkness beyond the candle's reach shifted.
From the shadows, Marrowkai emerged.
The dim, wavering glow barely illuminated his skeletal form, his presence a stark contrast to the elderly stickman sitting before him as he turned around, not facing King Zarek. His hollow eyes gleamed faintly, but his face remained unreadable.
The reaction from the watching royal siblings was immediate—each of them processed the scene just now differently.
Atreyos tensed, his gaze flickering between the projected image of his father and the real King Zarek standing beside him. His voice was soft, almost incredulous.
"You were... negotiating with him?"
King Zarek, standing outside the vision, looked away, his expression unreadable.
Shade blinked, absorbing the moment with keen interest. "So... Marrowkai and Father actually spoke?" she mused aloud, tilting her head as if mentally piecing together a puzzle.
Icaron, ever the wildcard, let out an appreciative hum.
"Ohhh, those are good offers."
Kytchu snapped her head toward him, aghast.
"Icaron, now is not the time for that."
Xiphos remained silent, but his jaw was clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. His hardened stare stayed locked on the vision of Marrowkai standing in the shadows, his thoughts a mystery.
Thera, on the other hand, did not react outwardly, but a faint glimmer of concern flickered in her eyes.
And then, there was Marrowkai himself.
The real Marrowkai, still confined within his clear spherical prison, watched the scene unfold with a face of stony indifference. He gave away nothing—but in his mind, a bitter thought surfaced.
Gold?
A castle?
The dead have no need for riches.
A castle? What's the point of a castle if there's no one to live in it...
But what's a kingdom without its people, Father?
The oversized crystal ball pulsed as the scene within continued to unfold, flickering slightly as though struggling to maintain its clarity.
Inside the continuing projected scene, Marrowkai stood at the edge of the candlelight's reach, his form barely distinguishable against the dim backdrop of the tower chamber. The shadows clung to him, as if reluctant to let him step forward, as if he belonged within them.
Then, his voice broke the silence—slow, deliberate, carrying a weight that was impossible to ignore.
"Tell me about your family."
The real royal siblings watching the vision exchanged brief, confused glances. Why would Marrowkai ask that? His voice held no mockery, no venom—just a measured tone, an intent behind his words that they couldn't quite grasp.
Their gazes flicked between the imprisoned King Zarek in the vision and their actual father, standing rigidly beside them, his face impassive.
The scene continued as King Zarek let out a sharp exhale, a bitter, humorless chuckle escaping his lips.
"You can have 'em," he muttered, his voice laced with resentment.
"Bunch of ungrateful—"
He stopped himself.
The words hung in the air, unfinished but suffocating.
A tense silence followed.
Marrowkai did not move. He still stood in the shadows, his back slightly turned, but there was an unmistakable shift in the air—a subtle change, like a predator who had just heard something far more interesting than expected.
Then, his voice came again—calm, quiet, but with an unmistakable edge of something unreadable beneath it.
"All of them?"
King Zarek's posture stiffened. His eyes darkened, but he did not immediately respond.
"What do you care?"
His tone carried a challenge, laced with suspicion, as though daring Marrowkai to give an answer.
The real royal siblings reacted with a mixture of emotions as they processed their father's words.
Atreyos' brows furrowed deeply, his fists clenched slightly. Was that truly how their father saw them? Ungrateful?
Shade narrowed her eyes slightly, her analytical mind racing through the implications. Why would Marrowkai ask about them? The question felt too deliberate to be idle curiosity.
Icaron's usual playfulness vanished for once. His lips pressed into a thin line, uncharacteristically silent for once.
Kytchu crossed her arms tightly, her expression unreadable, but there was a sharpness to her eyes, her thoughts clearly running a lot of processing.
Xiphos, however, was seething. His fingers twitched at his sides, his breathing controlled but deep—his father's words had struck a nerve.
Thera remained quiet, her eyes locked onto the vision, but there was a faint crease of worry and hurt on her face.
Meanwhile, the real King Zarek stood motionless, staring at the scene with an unreadable expression. He refused to meet his children's gazes.
And then there was Marrowkai.
The real Marrowkai, still confined within his clear spherical prison, watched the vision with an indistinct, unreadable look.
He gave away nothing, but inside his mind, he felt the answer long before his past self ever spoke it.
What do I care...?
More than you ever knew, Father .
Suddenly Icaron took a slow step forward, his usual lighthearted demeanor absent for once. His voice, though still carrying its natural lilt, lacked its usual playfulness.
"Dad..." he started, searching his father's face for any sign of reassurance. "You don't really see us that way, do you?" His hands curled slightly at his sides, tension bleeding into his posture.
A beat of silence.
"And this—everything we're seeing—it's made up, right?" There was an uncharacteristic uncertainty in his tone, as if he already knew the answer but desperately wanted to hear something different.
King Zarek stood rigid, his jaw tightening. His expression didn't shift immediately, but then—his shoulders sagged, just a fraction. It wasn't much, but it was enough.
Guilt flickered across his features.
Not anger. Not denial. Guilt.
And that alone was answer enough.
A slow, mirthless chuckle broke the heavy silence, low and taunting.
"Stop tricking yourself."
The voice belonged to Marrowkai.
From within his spherical prison, his skeletal fingers lazily tapped against the transparent surface, his head tilting slightly as he regarded Icaron with something akin to amusement—or pity.
"He wouldn't have that face if it weren't true, now would he?"
The words were delivered with a cruel, mocking edge, yet beneath it lay something more insidious—cold certainty.
The royal siblings tensed.
Xiphos' hands clenched at his sides, his knuckles going white. Kytchu exhaled slowly, controlling the anger rising in her chest. Atreyos looked like he wanted to punch something—preferably Marrowkai.
Shade shifted her weight, her lips pressing into a thin line. Thera's eyes flickered with something indistinct, unreadable.
And King Zarek did not look at them.
He said nothing.
Because there was nothing to deny at all.
King Zarek's thoughts churned like a storm at sea, memories crashed into each other in an unforgiving tide.
In the depths of his heart, he had always known the truth—Atreyos was his favorite. The youngest of his living children, the one who reminded him of himself, but better. And yet, despite that truth, despite the undeniable pull of favoritism, they were all his children.
Each and every one of them—the sons and daughters of Iris.
His beloved.
His late beloved.
A woman who had loved him stood beside him and given him a family that once brought him joy. Their children were not just some tools to his empire, not just generals, leaders of their respective factions and ways, or Pillars of the Order Empire... They were the last remnants of the love they had shared.
For all his shortcomings as a father, for all the moments of distance, the failures in affection, and the times when his duties overshadowed his role as a single parent since his beloved wife died, there had never been a moment when he truly wished them gone.
And yet... he had said it.
Not in jest. Not as an empty insult. But in a moment of raw frustration, a moment where his own bitterness had drowned out reason.
He clenched his fists, exhaling slowly. He could feel their eyes on him—some filled with suspicion, others with hurt, but all waiting.
Waiting for him to explain.
Waiting for him to deny it.
Waiting for him to say something—anything.
But what could he say?
What excuse would ever be enough?
Marrowkai lounged in his clear spherical prison, his skeletal fingers tapping idly against the smooth surface as he watched everything unfold.
His words had landed their mark. He could see it—the guilt, the conflict, the tension brewing in his father's expression.
It was amusing, really.
King Zarek, the great and mighty ruler, had always prided himself on being steadfast, composed, and in control. And yet, here he was—visibly shaken by something as simple as a past conversation resurfacing.
Calling them ungrateful?
Really?
Marrowkai nearly smirked. Even for his father, that was low.
Did Zarek truly believe that?
That his own children—his own flesh and blood—were nothing but ungrateful brats undeserving of his affection? Well, aside from Atreyos, that is.
How fitting, Marrowkai thought. And yet...
He wouldn't admit it—not to them, not to anyone—but there was a small, buried part of him that had felt something when those words were spoken.
A distant ache.
A flicker of something not quite anger, not quite pain, but something in between.
But it shouldn't matter.
After all, he wasn't Adicai anymore.
Adicai had died long ago.
Whatever words had been spoken about Zarek's children? They didn't apply to him.
Because Adicai no longer existed.
Marrowkai was all that remained.
And the dead have no need for a father's love... right?
Right?
Suddenly Marrowkai shook his skeletal head, forcing himself out of his thoughts. He hadn't even realized how deeply he had sunk into them until now.
His glowing eyes flickered as he finally took note of the oversized crystal ball—paused mid-projection.
The flickering candlelight in the vision had frozen. King Zarek's past self remained still, his mouth slightly open as if frozen in the middle of a breath. Even the subtle ripples in the mana surrounding the image had come to a complete standstill.
Marrowkai tilted his head, intrigued.
"Interesting... so it freezes if the observers aren't giving it their full attention?"
He let out a quiet hum in thought. Some kind of magical rule, perhaps?
A failsafe to ensure that no detail would be missed? Or maybe something more intricate—designed to make sure that the observers remained fully engaged, unable to dismiss or ignore what was being shown to them.
Either way, it was something worth noting.
With a slow, deliberate motion, Marrowkai turned his gaze back to the crystal ball, mentally preparing himself for whatever would come next.
And sure enough, the moment his focus returned—
The scene resumed.
The sudden resumption of the scene jolted the living royal siblings and King Zarek out of their thoughts. The heavy atmosphere of brooding, moping, and silent contemplation was shattered as their focus snapped back to the oversized crystal ball—despite the weight of the words they had already heard.
As the past conversation continued to unfold before them.
Inside the projection, Marrowkai still stood just outside the candlelight's glow, his back turned to King Zarek, his skeletal form rigid but unnervingly composed.
Then, his voice rang out once more, calm yet laced with an eerie finality.
"These are your last words."
A brief pause.
Then, without a single shift in his posture, scene Marrowkai continued, his tone as unreadable as ever:
"Is there anything you'd like me to pass onto them?"
The question sent a ripple of tension through the chamber.
The living royal siblings reacted with a mix of alarm, intrigue, and deep suspicion.
Why would Marrowkai even care to ask such a thing?
Shade's brows furrowed slightly as she crossed her arms, analyzing the intent behind the question. Was he mocking their father? Or was there something else at play?
Atreyos narrowed his eyes, the question rubbing him the wrong way. Why would someone like him even bother with a final message?
Xiphos clenched his fists, already suspecting something deeper was going on—something Marrowkai wasn't saying outright.
Icaron, ever the wildcard, simply muttered, "Huh. That's... weirdly considerate."
Kytchu didn't respond immediately, instead flicking a glance toward Marrowkai's current form, watching for any telltale signs of his thoughts.
Thera, silent as ever, studied the scene carefully—her worry deepening.
Meanwhile, King Zarek stiffened, his expression unreadable as he watched his past self, already knowing how he had responded to that question months ago, which he is sure to raise some animosity among his children.
And inside his clear spherical prison, Marrowkai watched as well—silent, but internally bracing himself.
Even though he already knew how this conversation had ended... It still felt strange to hear it play out again.
As the projection continued, the flickering light within the oversized crystal ball still casting ghostly reflections across the iron chamber.
King Zarek, still seated with his hands on his head, exhaled deeply before muttering, "Have you got anything to drink?"
A beat of silence followed.
Then, unexpectedly, Icaron let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head.
Kytchu turned to him, brow raised. "What's funny, Icaron?"
Icaron smirked slightly, glancing at her. "Nothing, dear sister. It just reminded me of something."
Shade, who had been watching the scene intently, turned her attention toward their brother. "Of what?"
Icaron leaned back slightly, crossing his arms as he responded, "Our mother."
At the mention of Queen Iris, a subtle shift passed through the royal siblings.
Kytchu blinked. "Mother?"
Icaron nodded, his tone lighter despite the tension in the room. "You know, as the eldest sister—and the eldest of us all—you of all people should understand."
He then gave a small, reminiscent grin.
"Our mother loved a good drink. Especially mead... and anything remotely liquor."
There was another pause, but this time it wasn't filled with unease—rather, a faint flicker of nostalgia seemed to settle among them.
Even King Zarek, despite himself, closed his eyes for a brief moment.
And Marrowkai, still confined within his clear spherical prison, merely watched, his expression unreadable.
Even though he had long discarded his past self, Adicai, he could not deny one truth:
Icaron wasn't wrong.
But the brief moment of nostalgia was abruptly shattered.
As Marrowkai finally responded from within the projection:
"I'm afraid we don't get much sun out here."
A flicker of confusion passed through the royal siblings.
Xiphos raised an eyebrow, arms crossed. "That's not an answer."
Shade turned toward the present-day Marrowkai, her sharp gaze narrowing. "You're evading the question."
Marrowkai, still resting within his clear spherical prison, merely tilted his head. His skeletal fingers tapped idly against the glass-like surface, a hint of amusement in his hollow eyes.
"Maybe not," he mused, "or maybe yes."
That only earned him more skeptical looks from the royal siblings.
Icaron, however, simply flashed a lopsided smirk.
"Nah," he chimed in, waving a hand dismissively. "It's probably just because he doesn't have any drinks. I mean, look at him; he's a skeleton—his lackeys are, well, dead. And let's be honest, if he tried drinking, it'd just pass right through him."
A pause.
Then, against all odds, Marrowkai actually chuckled.
It was a low, hollow sound—one that sent an unsettling yet oddly entertained shiver through the air.
"A very fair point."
Even if he wouldn't outright admit it, Icaron wasn't entirely wrong.
Meanwhile, deep in his mind, Marrowkai allowed himself a fleeting thought.
If only he could drink... actually drink.
Not just having the liquid pass through his skeletal frame, but truly tasting it, feeling the warmth of intoxication, letting it drown out the weight of his current existence. Being a living skeleton with a still-beating heart had its fair share of downsides.
The hardest part wasn't even the physical emptiness—it was the acceptance. Acceptance that he was dead, that Adicai had died long ago, and that nothing could have changed that.
That kind of acceptance?
A good drink might have made it easier in those early years of his undead life before he come to terms to it fully in the present.
But his musings were cut abruptly short.
Inside the projection, King Zarek finally spoke again, his voice low, raw, and barely above a whisper.
"I... I lost my boy."
A heavy silence filled the chamber.
Marrowkai's scowl deepened.
Ah.
This was the part of the memory he loathed.
His fingers twitched against the transparent surface of his prison, irritation gnawing at his bones.
Meanwhile, the royal siblings exchanged glances, their expressions filled with varying levels of uncertainty and discomfort.
Finally, Thera broke the silence.
"Is... Father talking about Adicai?" she asked hesitantly, her voice tinged with both curiosity and unease.
Shade shook her head slowly.
"Mayhaps not," she murmured, ever the strategist, analyzing the moment with a cool, calculated gaze. "We must understand things in the context of that time. If I had to guess... he could be referring to either Adicai or Atreyos during that time, considering Atreyos hasn't returned from his ordeal."
At the mention of his name, Atreyos remained silent.
His gaze was locked onto the oversized crystal ball, his expression unreadable as he watched—waiting, searching—for whatever would come next.
The projected scene within the oversized crystal ball continued.
King Zarek exhaled heavily, his voice carrying a weight that even the flickering candlelight couldn't soften.
"He was meant to take over everything."
In the present, the real King Zarek took an equally deep, steadying breath.
He knew exactly whom his past self was referring to—Atreyos.
Across the chamber, Xiphos furrowed his brows.
His gaze flickered between the projection, the real King Zarek, and Kytchu.
"Wait, he? " he said, confusion etched onto his face. "Isn't Kytchu the heir? I mean, she's the eldest among us siblings after all."
Icaron, ever the casual observer, stretched lazily before responding.
"Well... normally, yes," he admitted, "but we aren't exactly a normal kingdom, are we?"
He gestured vaguely around them. "Besides, we're an empire. And being the eldest isn't always the defining rule for succession. There are plenty of ways a ruler is chosen—by the will of the people, by overthrowing the current regime, or by sheer fortune or misfortune when the older siblings don't make it to the throne."
He smirked slightly, "Plenty of ways for things to shake out."
Shade folded her arms, nodding slightly.
"Icaron is right."
Her violet gaze flickered toward their father.
"But as far as I know... Father has never told me directly who his chosen successor will be."
That statement lingered in the air for a moment, unanswered.
And from within his spherical transparent prison, Marrowkai merely observed—his skeletal fingers tapping idly against the glass.
Xiphos lowered his gaze to the cold iron floor, his expression unreadable.
In a quiet, almost reluctant tone, he muttered, "I see..."
A flicker of something like self-reflection, perhaps doubts, crossed his face as he hesitated before continuing.
"It seems... my thinking was narrow-minded."
The words felt strange coming from him, but he admitted them all the same.
He exhaled before glancing at his siblings once more, his tone more composed but still laced with uncertainty.
"Since it's clear that the one Father was referring to was a he, then..." He trailed off, then continued, "What do you all think? If Shade is right, that means the heir could only be one of two people—Atreyos or Adicai during that time."
He crossed his arms, his gaze flickering between his siblings.
"I mean... it could be either of them."
There was a pause, a moment of silent consideration.
"We don't have much to go on," Xiphos added, his voice quieter. "And... Adicai has been dead for decades, so it's probably not him."
His words hung in the air, the weight of their meaning settling over the group.
And yet, from within his spherical prison, Marrowkai remained silent.
Just observing, listening, and unmoving to the talks being done in front of him.
Nonetheless, Marrowkai sighed internally, forcing himself to remain composed as the projection resumed.
The scene flickered briefly before continuing.
King Zarek's voice echoed through the oversized crystal ball, his words calm yet heavy.
"He was like me... only better in every way."
Those words. Those same, loathsome words.
Marrowkai's jaw clenched instinctively, though no expression betrayed his turmoil.
But within his mind, rage festered—hot, venomous, and all-consuming.
"Lies."
His thoughts were sharp and venomous.
"Atreyos is nothing like you, Father. He's a good-for-nothing backstabber. And you—"
"You play favorites."
His anger swelled, but outwardly, he remained composed.
"Atreyos doesn't even believe in the way of the spear as my former self—Adicai—once did. He doesn't hold it close to his heart, doesn't wield it with the same unwavering faith as I ."
"The only reason he stands where he does is because of you."
"The only thing he shares with you is a sliver of resemblance and a lack of belief in a singular path."
"Nothing else, and nothing more; I refuse to accept anything else.
Meanwhile, outside Marrowkai, silent brooding.
The royal siblings exchanged glances, some thoughtful, others tense.
For them, their father's words were something else entirely.
A clue.
"If father said 'he was like me, only better'..." Shade mused aloud, tapping a finger against her chin. "...then that must mean whoever he's referring to has similarities to him. In ability, or maybe in ideals."
Icaron let out a short chuckle, arms crossed lazily. "I don't know about 'better in every way,' but I do see what he means. I mean, let's be honest here—he's not talking about me."
Kytchu, standing beside him, gave him a sharp side glance. "No, you don't say," she deadpanned before shifting her attention back to the projection. "But if this is supposed to be a clue, then... is it really between only Atreyos or Adicai? What about Xiphos?"
Xiphos, having remained largely silent until now, let out a short breath.
He hadn't considered himself a candidate.
"...I don't think so," he muttered. "Considering how the conversation has been going, I believe it really is only between those two."
Xiphos then frowned slightly, crossing his arms. "I don't like the way Father phrased that, though... 'better in every way'? Are we just supposed to pretend none of us have inherited anything from him?"
A brief silence passed.
Shade sighed. "Well, apparently, we weren't 'better in every way.'"
The weight of those words settled over them.
Suddenly Thera, however, glanced around at her siblings before speaking, her voice thoughtful.
"Maybe... maybe we're looking at this the wrong way."
The others then turned their eyes to her as she continued.
"Maybe... maybe we did inherit something from Father," she mused, glancing around at her siblings. "Perhaps he's talking about who resembles him the most, but that doesn't mean we aren't like him in some ways. We all inherited something from Mother too, after all."
A few heads nodded in agreement, while others remained deep in their thoughts.
King Zarek continued, his voice heavy with something between reminiscence and regret.
"A leader the people loved, not feared."
The words hung in the air, their weight settling over the gathered siblings like an unspoken challenge.
Xiphos's expression twisted in confusion. He tilted his head, brows furrowed.
"What?! What does that even mean?" His tone was a mixture of bewilderment and frustration. "A leader that the people loved? What is this nonsense, Father? You're loved by the people, not feared."
But even as he said it, doubt crept into his voice.
A wry chuckle escaped from Marrowkai's prison. Though he said nothing, his gaze flickered with amusement as he watched the conversation unfold.
Kytchu suddenly spoke up, arms crossed as she stared at their father's projected image.
"I think... what Father meant at the time was something else."
The others turned to her, waiting.
She took a breath, piecing her thoughts together carefully.
"Possibly because a decent portion of our 'people' in the empire are only loyal to us out of necessity or fear."
That statement alone made some of the royal siblings shift uncomfortably.
"After all," she continued, "there's still a lot of resentment. A lot of bad blood has been accumulating since the time when the Order Empire was just the Order."
Silence fell over them as her words sank in.
"...When Father and Uncle Zilaros launched their campaign to unite Inamorta," she went on, "they started with the Archidonis... and after that, the other nations fell, one by one."
Kytchu then sighed, rubbing her temples before continuing, "We also can't forget the rebellion that erupted in the territories Father and Uncle Zilaros conquered during the First Conquest."
The weight of history pressed into her voice, and some of the siblings exchanged glances.
"It wasn't just because of the conquests themselves during that time," she elaborated. "It was because of the mismanagement and mistreatment that followed. Father was still inexperienced in leading an empire of such vast territory after the First Conquest, and even with Uncle Zilaros's guidance, things spiraled out of control."
A shadow passed over King Zarek's face, but he said nothing.
"The rebellion was inevitable," Kytchu added. "And during that time, we were still young, barely involved in ruling, while Father's old generals still followed his every command."
There was a moment of silence—until Xiphos blinked, looking between his siblings with an awkward expression.
"I think I might've... skipped that history lesson with my tutors, dear sister." He scratched the back of his head sheepishly.
Icaron burst into laughter.
Kytchu's eye twitched.
Shade facepalmed.
Kytchu slowly turned to Shade, her voice carrying the weight of pure exasperation.
"Remind me that if we ever get out of this place, I need to tutor this numbskull on history."
Shade groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "It'll be a long, long tutoring session."
Kytchu sighed, crossing her arms. "But my point is, Xiphos, that not everyone truly 'loved' Father the way you seem to think." She narrowed her eyes at him. "And maybe, just maybe, you'd already know that if you hadn't skipped your history lessons, Brother."
Xiphos groaned, throwing his hands up. "Hey, I thought they were useless at the time, all right? I mean, the present is the present, and the past is the past."
Kytchu pinched the bridge of her nose. "You're hopeless."
Meanwhile, Marrowkai let out a soft hum of amusement. His skeletal fingers tapped lazily against the smooth surface of his spherical prison. "Quite the family dynamic you all have."
Icaron, still lounging as if they weren't trapped in an ancient iron chamber, turned to Marrowkai with a knowing smirk. "Jealous?"
Marrowkai scoffed, flicking his wrist dismissively. "Oh, please." His voice dripped with dry sarcasm. "As if I would be jealous of being in a family with a 'Daddy's Boy.'"
He gestured lazily toward Atreyos without even looking at him.
Atreyos, unfazed, simply stared back at Marrowkai, his expression unreadable. He didn't bite back, didn't react—just watched.
Thera tilted her head slightly, humming in thought before speaking. "You know, Marrowkai, I never really questioned this before, but what exactly is your history with Atreyos?" Her golden eyes flicked between the two of them. "I mean, judging by how you refer to our youngest brother and how he reacted to seeing you earlier, it's clear there's something more. So what gives?"
Atreyos and Marrowkai locked eyes, an unspoken tension thickening the air between them.
Marrowkai was the first to respond, his tone cold and dismissive. "Our history doesn't concern you."
Thera, however, wasn't one to be brushed aside so easily. "It does concern me." Her voice was firm. "You involved my brother, didn't you?"
Atreyos broke his silence with no hesitation, his voice edged with simmering resentment. "Our history started when your undead ambushed my caravan," he said, his stare unwavering. "You trapped us in that damned forest for Inamorta knows how many nights, starving us, cutting us down one by one. Every night, more of your wretched dead came, and every night, I lost more of my men." His fists clenched at his sides. "And worse, you desecrated them. You dishonored their bodies by raising them—forcing them to fight against their comrades, men who had fought beside them mere moments before."
He exhaled sharply, his rage barely restrained. "I don't even know how much time passed in that cursed place, but it doesn't matter now."
Marrowkai's skeletal features twisted into something resembling amusement, but his tone was sharp as he snapped back. "And what did you expect, Atreyos?" His voice dripped with mockery. "You led a caravan far from your main army, right into a route that just so happened to take you deeper into the Undead Forest. You practically walked into my domain."
He leaned forward slightly, his eerie, glowing eyes locked onto Atreyos. "Never mind the fact that I wanted payback for you attacking my allies—the Vampiric Soulstealers. But oh, the real entertainment came from watching you cower behind your fortifications, night after night, as my undead swarmed you." A chuckle escaped his throat. "I enjoyed watching your little fortress fall, watching your men break." He sighed, almost wistfully. "A shame you managed to escape with that 'pet' of yours."
Deep within his mind, he recalled watching the entire spectacle unfold with his mentor and master, Gargos of the Chaos Empire. The memory was distant, but the satisfaction remained.
Atreyos' glare darkened, his jaw clenching as his fingers twitched at his sides, aching to just punch Marrowkai if not for the Spherical Sphere he is in. His voice was low and sharp, each word laced with venom. "There's a special place reserved just for you, Kai—once I get my hands on you properly."
Marrowkai, however, only laughed, his hollow, echoing voice carrying an air of mocking amusement. "Oh? I'd like to see you try, Daddy's boy." His skeletal grin widened as he leaned forward slightly, his glowing eyes brimming with challenge.
Then, with a slow and deliberate motion, he shifted within his transparent spherical prison, the eerie, glass-like sphere rolling effortlessly across the chamber floor. The smooth motion made it seem as if he was gliding toward Atreyos, the shifting of his bones within the confined space adding an unsettling creaking sound.
The royal siblings tensed, watching as Marrowkai deliberately approached their youngest brother, the unnatural movement of his prison making the moment feel even more surreal.
Atreyos didn't flinch. He stood his ground, eyes blazing with unspoken fury as Marrowkai came closer, the thin, nearly invisible barrier separating them from what could have easily been a physical confrontation—one long overdue.
Thera swiftly stepped between them, raising her hands in a calming gesture. Her tone was firm yet lighthearted, trying to diffuse the brewing tension. "Now, now, you two—I was just asking a question. I don't need you both starting a fight over it."
Atreyos huffed, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the urge to strike, while Marrowkai merely smirked, leaning back against the invisible barrier of his spherical prison, still radiating smug amusement.
Icaron, ever the one to steer things away from outright conflict, casually stretched his arms behind his head and said, "Y'know what? Instead of fighting, why don't we just finish seeing what that oversized crystal ball has to show us? I mean, I for one am curious to hear what Father said next during that time."
His voice was nonchalant, but beneath that carefree mask, a small part of him still stung at being lumped in with the others as 'ungrateful' earlier. He wasn't about to dwell on it—not now, at least—but it lingered in the back of his mind, an irritating whisper he couldn't quite shake.
The group exchanged glances before collectively turning their attention back to the projection, waiting for the past to unfold once more.
Instead of King Zarek continuing, it was Marrowkai who spoke first. His voice was calm and measured but carried an underlying sharpness. "You lost your son... Adicai."
The words sent ripples through the gathered royal siblings. Atreyos furrowed his brows, shooting a side glance at the real Marrowkai, while others either narrowed their eyes in suspicion or gazed at the projection with intrigue.
Then, King Zarek responded, his tone firm and unwavering. "I'm speaking of Atreyos."
A moment of quiet followed, the weight of the statement settling over them.
Shade was the first to break it. She turned towards their father, her expression thoughtful but certain. "So it's confirmed then. Atreyos is indeed Father's heir."
A murmur passed between the royal siblings as they processed this revelation, each with their own thoughts on the matter.
But within Marrowkai's mind, the impact was far greater. Even after months had passed, those words still struck like a dagger, reopening old wounds. He could still recall his reaction back then—the way his fury boiled over, the way he had almost stormed out of the tower chamber immediately, unable to stomach the conversation any longer. The memory was raw, visceral... and, if he allowed himself to admit it, painful.
For a fleeting moment, his skeletal fingers curled into a fist inside his transparent prison. He remembered wanting to lash out, wanting to prove something—whether to his father, to himself, or to the ghost of the person he once was. He had even considered hurting his father back then.
But Adicai was dead .
And yet, the pain never truly died with him.
A heavy silence hung in the iron chamber.
Back to the projection, King Zarek's voice echoed, tinged with exhaustion and something almost... fragile. "If I die tonight... tell him his father... his... father loves him."
For a moment, the candlelight flickered, casting long shadows across the cell. Scene Marrowkai stood motionless, just outside the dim glow, his expression unreadable. Then, without another word, he turned and stepped back into the darkness. A moment later, the heavy sound of a door slamming shut reverberated through the chamber.
And just like that, the Oversized Crystal Ball went dark. The projection had ended.
The silence stretched. No one moved. No one spoke.
Then, of all people, it was Icaron who broke the silence, though instead of addressing the weight of their father's words, he focused on something else entirely.
"Wait... did you just storm out?"
His voice was almost casual, as if he were commenting on a minor inconvenience rather than the emotionally charged moment they had just witnessed.
Marrowkai, still stewing in barely contained bitterness and anger, cast an annoyed glance at Icaron. "Obviously."
The others, however, weren't as quick to dismiss what had been said.
Shade, in particular, had a thoughtful expression. Her mind lingered on their father's last words in the projection. If I die tonight...
It wasn't an unreasonable concern. Father wasn't young anymore. He may have been strong once, but time had taken its toll. He no longer had the body of a pathless warrior. Even with Merics to tend to his old wounds, even with all the magic and advancements they had, there were still ailments that could not be healed. And perhaps, at that moment in the tower, Father truly believed that his death was imminent.
Or worse—perhaps he thought that Marrowkai would be the one to kill him.
Shade exhaled slowly, crossing her arms. "That... was a valid concern," she murmured under her breath.
The others remained deep in thought, each processing the moment in their own way.
But Marrowkai?
Marrowkai said nothing. His skeletal fingers curled slightly against the transparent sphere that imprisoned him. His heart—his still-beating heart, the one reminder that he was something more than just an undead—thumped with an emotion he refused to acknowledge.
Xiphos exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. His gaze flickered between the now inert oversized crystal ball and his gathered siblings. The weight of everything they had seen pressed down on him like an iron shackle.
"What do we do now?" he finally asked, his voice carrying an edge of uncertainty. "The crystal stopped showing us anything. Is that it?"
Thera crossed her arms, exhaling softly as she looked at the darkened sphere. "That's the thing, Xiphos... we don't know." Her tone was distant, her mind was clearly elsewhere. "I don't even know what we were supposed to take from all that."
Atreyos, who had been standing quietly, turned toward them. His expression was calm, though there was a sharp focus in his golden eyes. "Maybe we should talk things out first." His voice was measured and firm. "We just witnessed something important—something that affects all of us. It's a lot to unpack, and pretending it didn't happen won't change that."
Xiphos scoffed, a bitter edge creeping into his voice. "Easy for you to say," he muttered, shifting his weight. His gaze locked onto Atreyos, a flicker of resentment in his eyes. "You're the heir."
Atreyos blinked, his expression unreadable. "And?"
"And that means everything we just saw affects you differently than it does the rest of us." Xiphos gestured vaguely, frustration seeping into his tone. "You were the one Father was talking about. You were the one meant to 'take over everything.' Meanwhile, the rest of us?" He let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "We were just... what, stepping stones? Spare pieces? And let's not forget—he called us ungrateful."
Atreyos frowned slightly, his arms crossing over his chest. "You think that makes it easier for me?" he asked, his voice quieter but no less intense. "Hearing it confirmed like that? Knowing that father placed that burden on me, that he saw me as some kind of...idealized version of himself? That's not exactly a compliment, Xiphos."
Xiphos scoffed. "Could've fooled me."
Before Atreyos could respond, Kytchu cut in, her voice sharp. "Enough, both of you." She turned her gaze toward Xiphos. "You're angry. I get it. We all are. But turning on each other isn't going to change what we saw."
Xiphos clenched his jaw but remained silent.
Shade, who had been quiet up until now, spoke up. "Atreyos is right about one thing, though." She looked around at them all. "We need to talk about this. About everything. Because whether we like it or not, Father's words are going to stick with us." She paused, her gaze flickering toward Marrowkai, who had been watching the exchange in silence. "And that includes you too, Kai, even though you are not one of us considering you're an enemy."
Marrowkai hummed in amusement, his skeletal fingers tapping against his prison. "Oh? Now you suddenly care about my thoughts? How touching."
Shade sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Don't start."
Icaron, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, finally spoke up. "I think we need to start by figuring out what exactly we learned here. Because..." He hesitated for a moment, his usual carefree demeanor replaced by something more thoughtful. "I don't think this was just about confirming Atreyos as the heir. This was about father. About who he was—who he is."
Thera nodded slowly. "And about how he really saw us."
A heavy silence fell over the group once more. The weight of their father's words, of the memories they had just witnessed, hung between them like a storm cloud waiting to break.
Finally, Atreyos sighed. "So... where do we begin?"
Xiphos folded his arms and exhaled sharply. "We get answers from Father, of course."
As if acting on a shared instinct, all of the royal siblings turned toward King Zarek. The once-mighty ruler stood in silence, his gaze heavy, as if carrying a burden none of them could see.
Finally, he spoke. "It's... complicated."
He looked as though he was about to say more, his lips parting slightly—but then nothing. No words came out. His throat moved as if he were attempting to force something out, but silence reigned.
The air in the chamber grew tense. Confusion flickered across the siblings' faces, quickly giving way to suspicion.
Shade narrowed her eyes. "Why did you stop?"
Kytchu took a step forward. "Father?" Her voice was firm, but there was a thread of concern beneath it. "Are you choosing not to answer, or—" She hesitated, observing him carefully. "Or is something preventing you from speaking?"
Zarek's lips pressed into a thin line. He exhaled heavily through his nose, frustration evident in the subtle clenching of his jaw.
Atreyos furrowed his brows. "Father, if there's something stopping you, just nod."
For a brief moment, the room was utterly still. Then, slowly—almost imperceptibly—King Zarek nodded.
Icaron let out a low whistle. "Well, that just made things more interesting."
Xiphos ran a hand through his golden pauldron, frowning. "This doesn't make sense. Is it some kind of curse? A spell?"
Thera tapped a finger against her chin. "Or an oath," she murmured. "A powerful one."
Meanwhile, Marrowkai observed in silence, but his thoughts churned. Unlike the others, he did not doubt Zarek's honesty this time. There were many things he loathed about his father—his favoritism, his choices, his blind faith in Atreyos—but this? No. This was not deception.
His skeletal fingers tapped absently against the transparent sphere that contained him. "Interesting," he muttered under his breath.
Shade folded her arms. "If someone—or something—is stopping you from speaking, then who or what has that kind of power?"
The question hung in the air, unanswered.
Zarek simply remained silent, looking at his children with something that might have been regret.
Shade furrowed her brows, crossing her arms as she regarded their father with scrutiny. His silence was unusual—deliberate, but not of his own will.
"Father," she said, voice level but firm. "Try speaking about something else. Something unrelated to what you were about to tell us."
King Zarek exhaled through his nose, then nodded. After a brief pause, he spoke. "This chamber is cold."
His words echoed in the iron chamber, breaking the tense silence.
That was all the confirmation they needed.
"So, it's not that he can't speak at all," Thera mused, glancing at her siblings. "Just that something—or someone—is preventing him from revealing what we were trying to learn."
Xiphos groaned, rubbing his forehead. "Ugh, so that means we can't get any real answers?"
Kytchu, however, was unfazed. She turned toward him with a smirk. "We may not be able to right now, but once we figure out what's stopping him, we will. Eventually."
Then, her expression shifted as she clapped a hand on Xiphos' shoulder. "But in the meantime—"
Xiphos barely had time to react before Kytchu grabbed his cape and yanked him forward, dragging him effortlessly across the chamber floor.
"You're coming with me," she declared.
Xiphos' eyes widened in panic. "Wait—what?! Where?!"
Kytchu didn't slow her pace as she pulled him along. "It's time for your history lesson, little brother."
Xiphos thrashed, trying to free himself from her grip. "NOOOOOOOOOO!" he howled dramatically.
Icaron doubled over laughing, clutching his sides, while Shade pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation.
Thera merely hummed. "Well, at least something productive is coming out of this."
Marrowkai, still confined in his transparent prison, observed the spectacle with mild amusement. "Truly," he drawled, "what an illustrious family dynamic you all have."
Xiphos' wailing only grew louder as Kytchu dragged him to the opposite side of the iron chamber.
Icaron stretched his arms above his head, sighing dramatically as he leaned against the cold iron wall of the chamber. His golden eyes lazily flickered toward Thera, a lopsided grin forming on his face.
"Well, since we're going to be stuck in this iron prison for an indefinite amount of time," he drawled, "I have to ask—did you, by any chance, think ahead and bring some food, dear sister?"
Thera blinked at him, then furrowed her brows. "Food?" she echoed.
Icaron nodded expectantly, still grinning.
Thera hesitated before shifting uncomfortably, glancing away. "No..." she admitted, voice small, almost embarrassed.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then, Icaron threw his head back with an exaggerated groan. "Welp! That's it, we're doomed. Even if this wretched chamber doesn't kill us, starvation will!"
Shade rolled her eyes, arms crossed. "Oh, don't be so dramatic, Icaron."
"Dramatic?" Icaron repeated, feigning offense. "Sister, this is a dire situation! We might be locked away in this chamber for days, weeks even! And without food, our once-proud royal bloodline will wither away into nothing!"
Thera sighed, rubbing her temples. "I didn't think we'd be trapped in here, Icaron. It's not like I had time to pack a picnic."
Marrowkai, watching the exchange from his spherical transparent prison, let out an amused scoff. "You all truly are a spoiled bunch," he remarked. "A few hours without food and you act like you're facing your own execution."
Icaron smirked at him. "Easy for you to say, oh mighty undead sorcerer. You don't have a stomach anymore."
"Exactly," Marrowkai replied smoothly. "No hunger, no weakness. Unlike you lot."
Shade ignored their bickering and turned to Atreyos. "We should focus on finding a way out of here first. We can worry about food later."
Atreyos nodded. "Agreed."
Meanwhile, Icaron dramatically slumped to the floor, placing a hand over his heart. "If I die from hunger, tell my story, Thera..."
Thera sighed. "You're impossible."