The dream always started with the sound of dragging.
Zaliyah was back in the Royal Hallway of the Capital, the marble floors cold against his skin. Someone was hauling him by the arms, their grip was like iron shackles. He tried to twist around, to see the face of his captor, but the features were a swirling vortex of shadows . He tried to scream, but his voice was caught in his throat like broken glass.
Then, the sensation changed..sharp claws dug into the sensitive skin of his neck, right over the scars on his neck he already carried. The pain was unbearable. The faceless man lifted him, the ground falling away until they were suspended in the violet sky.
The man's face remained a blurry, dark void, but Zaliyah could feel the hatred radiating from him. Without a word, the shadow let go.
Zaliyah plummeted. The wind ripped the air from his lungs as the world rushed up to meet him.
"Noooooooooo!"
His eyes flew open, He was upright in an instant, his chest heaving, his skin slicked with sweat.
"Your Highness! Your Highness, are you alright?"
The maids flocked to his bedside like a startled brood of hens. Their faces were etched with worry, their hands fluttering near his shoulders.
"Should we call the physician? You're trembling!"
Zaliyah raised a shaking hand, signaling them to stay back. He ran his fingers through his damp, disheveled hair, trying to ground himself in the reality of the Northwest. The room was cold, the stone was real, and the sky outside was gray, not violet.
"I'm fine," he rasped, though his heart was still beating loudly. "It was just a nightmare. It's been a long time since the ghosts followed me here."
He felt an uncomfortable, prickling itch on his neck. He reached up, his fingers tracing the ridges of his scars. They felt hot to the touch, as if the dream-claws had left a physical mark. He shrugged the feeling off, but the dread remained coiled in his stomach.
Before he could fully recover, the nanny Thalassa had "gifted" him burst into the room. She wasn't carrying a weapon, but she was carrying something just as loud: the wailing new born.
"It's feeding time, Your Highness," the nanny said.
Zaliyah reached out, pulling his daughter into his arms. He squeezed her a little too tightly at first, his instinct to protect overriding his gentleness. Surprisingly, the baby went quiet almost instantly. It felt as if she had sensed the static of his fear and decided to anchor him.
Zaliyah nuzzled his nose against her tiny, bald head. "Crying so early? You really are a little monster. Daddy isn't a glutton, so why do you eat enough for three people? Even your father is modest with his portions, but you? You're like Harun. You'd eat the whole castle if I let you."
The mention of the twins made him look up. "Where are they?"
"In the training grounds with the deputy commander, Your Highness," a maid replied.
Zaliyah's jaw tightened. Tomorrow, that would be him. Tomorrow, the "ethereal ghost" of the North would have to learn how to bite back.
Zaliyah gently loosened his undergarments. The maids, well-trained by now, turned in unison to face the wall. He brought Sylaris to his chest, sighing as the aggressive sucking began. She had been fed at midnight, yet she acted as if she had been wandering a desert for years.
The door slammed open.
Xulthas barged in, looking entirely too put-together for a man who lived in a fortress of ice. He was dressed in a white blouse with a high, ruffled collar that was left artfully open, paired with tailored dark trousers . He looked like a lord who had lost his way to a ballroom and ended up in a war zone.
Zaliyah turned, his purple eyes meeting Xulthas's emerald gaze.
Xulthas froze. The air in the room seemed to grow hotter. Since the day he had captured Zaliyah's likeness in ink, a persistent, gnawing lust had taken root in his chest. Seeing Zaliyah now-disheveled hair sprawling across the pillows like a silken river, robe half-open, a child at his breast-was like walking into a trap. Zaliyah's beauty was silent and devastating; he looked like a goddess who had traded her divinity for a mortal life.
Zaliyah shifted, an embarrassed, shy smile touching his lips.
"Ehh... Commander? Sorry for the little inconvenience."
Xulthas jolted, his mind snapping back from the trance. He cleared his throat, his expression hardening into its usual mask of arrogance.
"You're holding up better than I thought," he said.
"Even I am surprised," Zaliyah admitted, looking down at the baby with a genuine, soft smile.
Xulthas shook his head, physically trying to toss the "bad" thoughts into the dark corners of his mind. He reached into his coat and tossed a small sachet of dried herbs onto the bed.
Zaliyah picked it up, sniffing the pungent, earthy scent. "Herbs? What am I supposed to do with these? Make tea?"
"Tonight, have the maids add them to your bathwater," Xulthas commanded. "Soak for two hours. No less."
Zaliyah rolled his eyes. "This isn't one of your warlock spells, is it? I don't want to wake up with green skin or the ability to speak to crows."
"You really are unworthy of my generosity," Xulthas drawled.
"I know Thalassa put you up to this," Zaliyah countered.
Xulthas grinned, "She did spend half the morning worrying. 'Poor Zaliyah, he's so weak. Poor Zaliyah, he's a single dad now.'" He mimicked Thalassa's tone with cruel accuracy.
The maids wished they could melt into the floorboards. The morning bickering between the Commander and Zaliyah was a spectator sport they weren't prepared for.
"I'm not a single dad," Zaliyah snapped.
"Oh? Then where is the father?" Xulthas looked around the room, peering under a chair and then behind a curtain with exaggerated curiosity. "I don't see him here. Wait..." He walked to the window, pointing toward the snow-capped peaks. "Did the snow monsters eat him? Did he get lost shopping for baby items?"
POW!
Zaliyah threw a pillow at Xulthas face.He wished he had a boulder, rocks or perhaps a very heavy book, but the pillow would have to do.
Xulthas burst into genuine laughter, tossing the pillow back onto the bed. "A pillow? Seriously? That's your weapon of choice?"
"Get out," Zaliyah pointed to the door. "Now."
"This is my castle," Xulthas reminded him, leaning against the bedpost.
"And this is my bedchamber!" Zaliyah countered
"Which," Xulthas leaned in, his grin widening, "is still in my castle."
The maids were paralyzed with shock. They had never seen the Warlock so witty, so jovial...
"Back to important matters," Xulthas said, his tone shifting back to business. "The herbal bath is vital. It will fully activate your core. That day on the mountain was a fluke-your body reacted to primal danger, and then your core knit itself shut again. If you want to master your abilities, you must force the door open."
"Must I?" Zaliyah asked.
"No," Xulthas replied. He paused at the door, looking back over his shoulder. "Unless you want to remain Malachi's favorite punching bag for the rest of your life."
Zaliyah's hand tightened into a fist against the sheets. The memory of Malachi's instability-the way he could go from cracking a joke,to bashing Zaliyah's head against a wall in a split second-surfaced with clarity. That was not a life. That was a slow execution.
"I guess you've made up your mind," Xulthas noted.
Zaliyah didn't answer, but the fire in his eyes was enough. The newborn child finally finished her meal, pulling away with a satisfied sigh. Zaliyah felt the familiar wave of dizziness, but it was lighter today, it was an improvement.
As he went to tie his robe, Xulthas caught a fleeting glimpse of a pink, swollen nipple. The Warlock's face turned a sudden bright red. The heat in his chest flared into a roar. Without a word, he turned and practically fled the room.
"Commander?" Zaliyah called out, confused.
Xulthas didn't respond. He was gone before the door even finished swinging shut.
"That freak has been acting so weird lately," Zaliyah muttered, rolling his eyes .
The rest of the day was a blur of domestic activities.
Zaliyah ate, napped, read the books he had already read and spent hours staring at his daughter. He was burdened by the task of naming her, trying on sounds like he tried on silks. By dinner, he had finally found it.
The twins had returned from the training grounds, smelling of sweat and dirt. They sat in the living room, the fire crackling in the hearth. Zaliyah sat on the chaise, his hair meticulously braided into two braids. Iruna sat opposite him, holding the child wrapped in multiple furs, while Harun stood behind her like a silent sentinel.
"So," Zaliyah said, leaning his face on his palm. "I've thought of a name."
Iruna's eyes sparkled. "A name ?What did you choose, Your Highness?"
"Sylaris."
The twins repeated it under their breath. "Sy... la... ris."
Harun smiled, a rare, soft expression.
"It's a beautiful name. It sounds like the wind through the stars."
"Sylaris," Iruna cooed, playing with the baby's chubby cheeks.
"Do you hear that, little one? your dad is truly the best for giving you such a noble name, even I couldn't think of such a pretty name."
Zaliyah laughed, For a moment, the Northwest didn't feel like a prison at all.
In another wing of the castle, the atmosphere was far from domestic.
Xulthas was in his private quarters. He couldn't suppress it anymore. The image of Zaliyah on that bed was burned into his retinas like a Brand.
He was engaged in sexual intercourse with a woman, his movements was rough and impatient. When her moans became too loud for his ears and her sobs too disgusting for his eyes , he clicked his fingers, sealing her mouth with a silent spell and temporary blinding her. He didn't want to hear her. He didn't even want to see her.
Eventually, he grew bored, tossing her aside like a spent garment. He signaled for another, a pale-skinned boy with a body type and height that mimicked Zaliyah's perfectly. The boy was beautiful, but his face lacked that ethereal, haunting "something" that Zaliyah possessed.
Xulthas didn't care. He grabbed the boy by the neck, bending him over the edge of the bed with a growl. He rammed in, his thrusts violent and fast. The night stretched on, the room filled with the sounds of wet skin slapping against skin, muffled cries, and the dark, obsessive energy of a man trying to exorcise a ghost with a body that wasn't the right one.