Three years in the Northwest had a way of hardening everything it touched. The frost on the windows was thicker, the stone of the castle felt more ancient, and the boy who had once arrived in the snow, broken and pregnant, was now nothing short but a ghost of a memory.
In his place stood a man of silver and steel.
But even a warrior has to sleep.
The morning light struggled to pierce the heavy, charcoal-colored curtains of Zaliyah's chambers.
He lay still, his long silver hair spread across the pillows like a frozen river.
His breathing was shallow, his mind finally at peace-until the air in the room began to hum.
A small, ripple appeared near the foot of his bed. From the distortion stepped a girl who looked no younger than five, though her birth certificate would have told a much shorter tale.
Sylaris was a vision of her father: Silver-white hair tied in a messy twin tails and eyes the color of the blue sky.
She giggled, a sound that carried a strange, melodic resonance. She didn't need her hands to prank him She closed her eyes, and a dozen pillows from the lounge area began to hover, glowing with a faint, blueish light.
With a mischievous flick of her wrist, she sent them hurtling.
THWACK.
Zaliyah bolted upright as a mountain of pillows slammed into his face. He scrambled to find his bearings, only to see his daughter floating a few inches off the rug, clutching her stomach in laughter.
"Sylaris!" Zaliyah barked, though his voice lacked any real venom. He wiped a stray feather from his lip, looking annoyed.
"I told you, no gravity manipulation before breakfast. My head is pounding."
"You were snoring, Da-da," she chirped, her feet finally touching the ground. "The birds were complaining."
"The birds were not complaining, they're frozen," Zaliyah grumbled. He flicked his hand casually toward the disarray. Without him even looking, the pillows rose in a perfect, synchronized line and flew back to their original positions on the chaise.
His control was effortless, a silent testament to three years of brutal training.
"Come here, you little monster," Zaliyah said, his face softening.
Sylaris shrieked with delight as she dove onto the bed. Zaliyah caught her , wrapping his arms around the little girl. He began to tickle her sides. The room was filled with Sylaris giggling sounds, a rare, warm pocket of humanity in a fortress of ice.
For a moment, Zaliyah could pretend that the outside world didn't exist, that there were no Demon Kings, no fading lovers, and no palace to return to.
Across the veil, the sun was warmer, but the air felt twice as heavy.
In the Ruo Han residence, the garden that Karas had built for Zaliyah was still impeccably kept. The pond was clear, and the flowers bloomed with a tragic beauty. But the man sitting on the stone bench looked like he was mae of ash.
Karas sat with his head tilted back, watching the clouds. The white streaks in his hair had long since overtaken the dark, leaving him with a mane that looked like premature frost. His skin was pale, almost translucent, and his eyes were fixed on a point far beyond the horizon.
He was fading, his essence being pulled toward a void that only Zaliyah could fill.
"Elder Brother?"
A soft voice broke his trance. Riru stood by the jasmine bushes, her eyes filled with a sadness that no sister should carry.
She had grown, too, but the spark of her childhood had been extinguished by the gloom of the house.
Karas didn't turn his head. "The lotuses are late this year, Ri. He used to say they were his favorite because they smelled like the moon, which I always found weirdly fascinating because no one knows what scent the moon carries."
Riru sat beside him, her hand resting on his knee.
"He's been gone a long time, brother. Mother says... Mother says we have to start talking about the future. Father is getting restless again."
Karas let out a short, hollow laugh. "Future? There is no future in a house without a heart, Ri, I am just a ghost waiting for my turn to vanish."
"You're not a ghost," Riru whispered, her voice cracking. "You're still here. I'm still here, Mom is still here brother Please, brother... just look at me."
Karas finally turned his gaze toward his sister. The grief in his eyes was so profound it made Riru flinch. "I am looking at you, my little princess. And I see everything we lost. I see him in the way you tilt your head. I see the tragedy of a family that broke because it couldn't handle the light."
He looked back at the pond. "I can still hear his voice in the water, Ri. Is that madness? Or is it the only thing keeping me alive?"
Riru didn't answer. She simply leaned her head against his shoulder, two shadows in a garden built for a man who was now priced goods in the fortress.
Back in the Northwest, the atmosphere in the Great Hall was suffocating.
Xulthas stood by the hearth, his fingers tracing the rim of a crystal goblet. He was no longer the detached, mocking warlock of three years ago. The "weird heat" in his chest had curdled into a feeling be couldn't name or explain.
He watched the door, waiting for the moment Zaliyah would walk through it.
He didn't just want Zaliyah's body anymore, he wanted to own the very air Zaliyah breathed.
He hated the way Zaliyah looked at the twins. He hated the way Zaliyah looked at the horizon, searching for a realm he could no longer reach.
"You're staring again," a voice drawled.
Xulthas turned to see Thalassa walking toward him, her hand intertwined with Iruna's. The change in the two women was the only other light in the castle.
Iruna looked confident, her eyes bright and her posture straight, while Thalassa's usual sharp edge had been rounded by a protective tenderness.
"I am observing my guest," Xulthas said coldly, his eyes flickering to their joined hands.
"You're stalking him , Xulthas," Thalassa countered, her voice low. "It's becoming pathetic. Even the maids are starting to notice the way you linger outside his door at night."
Iruna stepped forward, her voice soft but firm. "His Highness has learned to find peace in this ice fortress. Please, Commander... don't ruin the peace. He's worked so hard."
Xulthas's grip on the goblet, it tightened until it cracked. "Happy? He is a prisoner who has forgotten his cage. And I am the one who keeps the bars from rusting. Do not lecture me on his happiness"
Iruna flinched, but Thalassa pulled her closer, her eyes flashing with a warning. "Careful, Xulthas. Zaliyah isn't the weak boy he used to be. If you push too hard, he would Burn this fortress to the ground. And I'll be the one to hand him the torch."
Xulthas didn't reply. He turned back to the fire, the violet flames reflecting in his green eyes. He didn't care about the fortress. He didn't care about the capital city or Malachi. He only cared about the silver-haired creature who had become his alter, his moon, and his undoing.
Zaliyah entered the hall a moment later, Sylaris perched on his side .
Sylaris was dressed in expensive pink silks, her hair was braided and adorned with black ribbons , a black fur coat layered on her, Xulthas has took upon himself to make sure the little girl is dressed in "la crème de la crème".
While Zaliyah was dressed in high-collared black leathers that hugged his slender frame, his silver hair braided and with black ribbon, matching his daughter.
He noticed the tension in the room immediately. His eyes swept over Xulthas, but instead of the usual cold indifference, a small, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Runa, Thalassa," Zaliyah greeted them.
"Sylaris wants sweets again. I told her she has to ask the deputy commander, since I'm apparently 'too mean' about her teeth."
Thalassa laughed, reaching out to take the giggling girl. "Come here, little monster. I think we have some honey-cakes hidden in the larder."
As they walked away, Zaliyah hummed a tune towards the door and the doors of the hall swung shut.
The silence that followed was like no other, charged with the scent of lust and the heavy weight of Xulthas's gaze.
"Stop staring, Xulthas," Zaliyah said, his voice a low and melodic . "It's beneath you."
"Is it?" Xulthas asked, walking towards Zaliyah, his green eyes burning. "I find that everything is beneath me lately, Zaliyah. Except for you."
Instead of recoiling, Zaliyah turned , elegantly walking toward the Warlock.
He stopped when they were only inches apart, close enough to feel the radiating heat from Xulthas's chest.
Zaliyah reached up, his fingers trailing lightly, almost teasingly-along the open collar of Xulthas's blouse, just grazing the skin of his collarbone. He looked up through his thick lashes, his violet eyes glowing with a faint shimmer.
"You say that as if you've already won," Zaliyah whispered, his breath fanning against Xulthas's jaw. "But a Warlock as smart as you should know... the most beautiful things are often the most difficult to cage."
Xulthas's breath hitched, his hand instinctively reaching out to grip Zaliyah's waist, pulling him against his body.
"Difficult," Xulthas said, charged with the obsession that had consumed him for three years, "but not impossible."
Zaliyah let out a soft chuckle, a sound that sent a shiver down the Warlock's spine. He leaned in, his lips hovering just an inch from Xulthas's ear.
"Keep telling yourself that, Commander," Zaliyah murmured, "It makes the game more entertaining for me."
With a playful flick of his fingers against Xulthas's chest, Zaliyah stepped back, leaving the Warlock standing in the center of the hall, breathless and reeling.
Zaliyah didn't look back as he walked toward his chambers, the wind outside howling in sync with the sudden thudding of Xulthas's heart.