The dawn over the Northwest was an annoying thing, cutting through the curtains of Zaliyah's bedchamber. For the first time in months, he didn't wake to the soft rustle of silk or the smell of jasmine tea. He woke to the cold reality of a new life.
The maids moved with a quiet, practiced urgency today. They presented him with a set of clothes Thalassa had dropped off while he was still locked in his nightmare-ridden sleep. Gone were the flamboyant, flowing silks that trailed behind him like liquid light. In their place was a simple, sturdy suit of warrior's leathers, charcoal gray, fitted to his frame reinforced with silver-thread runes at the joints.
"It feels... heavy," Zaliyah muttered, testing the weight of the boots.
"It is meant to keep you anchored, Your Highness," a maid whispered.
Pl
He rushed to Sylaris's room, his heart doing that strange, fluttering dance it only did for her. The nanny looked up with a small nod as he took the child into his arms for the morning feed.
The child's lit up once she saw her dad .
He spoke while breastfeeding the child "Daddy is going to be very busy from now on, little one," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I hope you understand. I'm doing this so I can kiss you without looking over my shoulder for that monster."
He handed the baby back, his eyes lingering on her blue gaze for a second too long before he turned and exited, his leather boots clicking against the stone.
Zaliyah navigated the castle, realizing for the first time just how vast and ancient the warlock's fortress truly was. He found himself in an extensive, unused wing where it reeked of dust and forgotten magic.
He stepped out onto a secluded balcony that felt like it hung over the edge of the world. Below him, the frozen wastelands stretched out like a sea of broken diamonds, the mountains piercing the sky like giant teeth.
"It's my first time meeting a fre'in."
Zaliyah jolted, spinning around so fast he nearly lost his footing. His heart hammered against his ribs.
Standing in the shadows was an old man. He was a map of wrinkles, his skin like weathered parchment and his hair a wild, tangled mane of gray. He looked as if he had been carved out of the mountain itself.
The man let out a raspy, wheezing laugh. "Spooked you, did I? You've got the ears of an elf but the situational awareness of a rock."
Zaliyah narrowed his eyes, "And you have the manners of a mountain goat. Who are you?"
The old man ignored the insult, stepping into the light. His eyes, milky with age but sharp with intelligence, scanned Zaliyah's face. "The resemblance....it is uncanny, You look like Oryon."
The name hit Zaliyah like a lightning strike. It vibrated through his bones, triggering a distant, fuzzy memory of the Empress Lilith's voice at the banquet. She had spat that name at him . "Oryon".
"Who is Oryon?" Zaliyah asked, his voice low. "And why do you people insist on comparing me to a ghost?"
The man tilted his head, his brow furrowing. "By the void... the resemblance is not a coincidence. You are indeed the son of Oryon."
Zaliyah let out a frustrated huff, crossing his arms over his leather-clad chest. "I don't have a father. I have a mother, two siblings, and a life in the Human Realm that was perfectly fine until I got dragged into this hellhole. You have confused me for someone else, old man."
The tutor blinked in genuine confusion. "Huh? Oryon has other children? And in the Human Realm?" He scratched his chin. "That does not sound like the Oryon I knew. He was a man of great prestige who preferred the stars to the dirt."
"I should have never trusted Xulthas," Zaliyah snapped, turning to look back at the wasteland. "He promised me a tutor, not a lunatic who talks in riddles about men I do not know."
The man laughed again, "This one is even more high-strung than Malachi was! Since it is clearly a family issue, I would not pry. I am here to teach you how not to die, not to fix your lineage."
Zaliyah rolled his eyes. The bare minimum, he thought. At least he knows how to mind his business.
"This will be my first time training a hybrid of your particular... flavor," the tutor said, his expression turning serious. "Forgive me if I am a little rough. I have only ever trained monsters and kings."
For the next hour, the man spoke with a voice that carried the weight of a century. He narrated the legacy of the Celestials, the things an elf could do. Manipulation of the wind, Telekinesis , sight that could pierce the horizon, hearing so acute they could hear a leaf's dying sigh before it hit the ground. He spoke of immunity to fire and resistance to the soul-corrupting charms of the lower realms.
"Your core," the man said, gesturing to Zaliyah's chest. "It is a mess. The celestial side is a screaming sun, while the demonic side is a flickering candle. Because the elf is dominant, you have the grace and the gifts, but you lack the grounding. You are powerful, Zaliyah, but you are a glass cannon. One hit, and you shatter."
As the man spoke, Zaliyah felt a strange, hot rush of adrenaline. For the first time in his life, he didn't feel like a mistake. He didn't feel like a curse. He felt like a weapon that simply hadn't been sharpened yet.
"We start with the mind," the tutor said. "Telekinesis. Move the pebble, not with your hands, but with the intent of your soul."
Three hours later, the adrenaline was gone, replaced by frustration.
The "pebble" hadn't moved. Not an inch.
Zaliyah stood on the balcony, sweat dripping down his neck, his hands trembling . The old man watched him with an expression that bordered on pity.
"Again," the tutor commanded.
"I can't!" Zaliyah yelled, his voice cracking. "I've been standing here like a fool for hours! My head feels like it's going to explode, and the damn rock hasn't even twitched!"
"You want to give up?" the man asked, his voice cold. "Go ahead. Walk back inside. Go back to being a pretty ornament in the king's collection."
Zaliyah glared at him.
"Giving up is the easy path, boy," the man said, leaning on his staff. "The man who quits before the first drop of blood is shed isn't a failure-he's a coward. And cowards don't get to keep their daughters."
The mention of his daughter was like a bucket of ice water. Zaliyah's eyes snapped back to the pebble. He didn't move it that day, but he stayed until his legs shook and the sun dipped below the peaks.
It was dark when Zaliyah finally trudged back toward the main living quarters. He was exhausted, his braided hair dangling down his back, his muscles screaming. All he wanted was to see his daughter and collapse on the bed for thirty-years .
POW!
He rounded a corner and slammed into someone. The impact sent a jar of something expensive shattering against the floor.
"Watch where you're going, you clumsy-" A woman's voice cut off as she looked Zaliyah up and down. She was dressed in opulent silks, her face twisted in a look of venom. "Who are you? What are you doing in this wing? Why is a servant running through the halls like a common thief?"
Zaliyah looked at her as if he'd just stepped in something foul. He was too tired for annoying games. He didn't know her, and he didn't care to know her . He simply rolled his eyes and tried to walk past her.
YANK!
The woman reached out, grabbing his braided hair and yanking him backward with a strong snap. Zaliyah's head flew back, a sharp pain blooming in his scalp.
He didn't think or hesitate.
As he spun around, his hand moved in a quick motion.
SLAP.
The sound echoed through the hallway. The woman stumbled back, her hand flying to her reddening cheek, her eyes wide with shock.
Zaliyah stood his ground, his chest heaving. He was frustrated, he was hungry, and he missed his daughter, he did not have the patience to be bullied by demons tonight.
The lady let out a shriek of rage, raising her hand to return the blow, but her wrist was caught mid-air by a muscular hand.
Xulthas stood between them, his brows furrowed. He didn't look at the woman, his eyes were on Zaliyah.
"How dare you, Xulthas!" the woman spat, trying to wrench her arm free.
"This... this servant laid hands on me!"
At that moment, the nanny appeared from the nursery, Sylaris wailing in her arms. Zaliyah ignored the woman and Xulthas. He wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers and reached for his child.
"Welcome back, Your Highness," the nanny said, bowing low.
The "woman froze, her gaze darting between the baby and Zaliyah. "Y-Your... Highness?" she whispered, looking at Xulthas for an explanation.
Zaliyah pulled Sylaris into his arms, snuggling her close. He didn't even acknowledge Xulthas's presence. He turned and walked away, his voice soft as he spoke to the baby. "Did you miss Daddy? My day was so tough, little one, I missed you so much I wanted to teleport to you in the middle of training. Let's go find some peace."
Xulthas watched him go, then finally let go of the woman's wrist with a shove. "Know your place, Elara" he said.
"Who is he, Xulthas?" she demanded, her voice trembling. "What is he doing here?"
"It is none of your concern. Do well to stay out of his sight"
"But-"
"It is an order Elara" Xulthas spoke his green eyes flashing.
He turned and walked in the opposite direction.
An hour later, Zaliyah was clean, refreshed, and utterly spent. He sat in his rocking chair, breastfeeding Sylaris while Iruna stood behind him, gently unbraiding and brushing his hair. Harun stood by the door, and Thalassa was sprawled on a chaise, looking at him with amused eyes.
"How was it?" Iruna asked, her voice full of worry. "You look so tired. If it's too much, you can rest tomorrow. We can find another way."
Harun sighed. "Runa, he's training to be a warrior. Of course it's going to be stressful. You can't wrap him in cotton forever."
Zaliyah smiled at Iruna. "Don't worry. It's okay. The old man is... intense. But he knows a lot about Celestials. More than anyone I've ever met."
Thalassa smirked. "Of course he does. He's lived for more than a century. He's seen gods fall and demons rise."
Zaliyah rolled his eyes. "Wow, Thalassa. You're so smart. Would you like sweets for your vast knowledge?"
"Actually, yes," Thalassa said, sitting up. "I'd like the sweets accompanied by a bottle of purple wine. Iruna, dear, be a darling?"
Iruna giggled and went to fetch the tray.
"So," Harun asked, "what did Your Highness learn today?"
Zaliyah stayed silent for a moment, the only sound in the room being the rhythmic, aggressive sucking of the baby.
"Let me guess," Thalassa spoke up. "You learned a lot of theory and did absolutely nothing physical."
"I tried," Zaliyah said, looking down at the baby. "I just couldn't get it right."
Iruna came back with the tray handing it to Thalassa, she walked towards him and patted his hair.
"It's only the first day. I'm sure you'll get the hang of it tomorrow. Or the day after. Or the day after that."
Zaliyah smiled at her. "Thank you, Iruna."
Thalassa watched them, a strange look in her eyes. "The dedication in this room is staggering. Oh, that reminds me, a little birdy told me you slapped Elara in the hallway."
"Who's Elara?" Zaliyah asked, genuinely confused.
"The bitch you slapped," Thalassa clarified.
Zaliyah blinked. "I don't usually keep images of irrelevant people in my head."
Iruna grabbed his hand, her eyes wide. "Your Highness! Are you okay? Did she hurt you?"
"I'm fine," Zaliyah said. "I was just annoyed. She pulled my hair."
Thalassa stood up, heading for the door with the bottle of wine in her hand. "Watch out for her, Zaliyah. She's as bitchy as Ailla, and she has a long memory. Your chamberlains are going to have to work overtime to protect you."
"I can protect myself," Zaliyah replied.
Thalassa just giggled, waving a hand over her shoulder. "Right, right. We'll see about that on the training grounds tomorrow."