The carriage had barely rattled to a halt before Zaliyah flung the door open. He didn't wait for Harun, nor did he care about the dirty snow that ruined the hem of the expensive silks Iruna had just purchased at the boutique.
He burst through the towering iron gates of the academy, walking with a fierce stride.
The brutal Northwest wind caught his long, silver-white hair, sending it dancing like a halo of winter lightning, while his robes swayed around his ankles like trees during a windstorm.
Behind him, the heavy thud of armored boots followed. Harun was right at his shoulder, his hand already white-knuckled on the hilt of his broadsword. Both of their faces were drained of color, pale with worry.
But as they crossed into the central courtyard, Zaliyah slowed his pace, his chest heaving. The academy looked exactly as they had left it in the morning. The ancient, gray-stone towers stood intact. The gothic archways were unbroken. There was no smoke, no shattered glass, no craters in the packed snow.
This made Zaliyah's blood run even colder. Material destruction could be rebuilt with magic and coin , a pristine building meant the threat hadn't targeted the fortress. It had targeted the flesh inside. What if the casualties were lives, not buildings? A sickening wave of despair washed over him.
He had spent four long years training until his knuckles bled, refining his celestial core to ensure he would never be helpless again. If something had happened to his daughter, if Malachi's shadow or the wild horrors of the frost had taken her, Zaliyah knew, with terrifying certainty, that he would burn the entire Northwest to ash.
Harun's eyes darted across the grounds. The once-bustling academy, usually echoing with the high-pitched shouts of young nobles and the stern commands of tutors, was dead silent.
It felt like walking into a freshly dug burial tomb.
"Your Highness," Harun whispered, his voice dangerously low. "The classrooms are empty."
"Search the eastern wing," Zaliyah commanded, his tone sharp but trembling. "Check her classroom. I am going straight to the headmistress's office."
They split without another word.
Zaliyah hurried down the grand hallway, the stone arches stretching above him like the ribs of a giant beast. His heart hammered so violently against his ribs it felt as though it might escape his chest.
Every shadow looked like a corpse every draft of wind sounded like a cry for help.
Suddenly, a small, high-pitched voice echoed through the vaulted corridor.
"Dada!"
Zaliyah's head snapped up. Emerging from a nearby stairwell was a flash of white hair and a bright yellow ribbon. Sylaris was sprinting toward him, her small boots slapping loudly against the floor.
The breath returned to Zaliyah's lungs in a violent rush. He threw himself forward, his silks billowing, and met her halfway. The father and daughter collided in a deep, desperate embrace.
Zaliyah dropped to his knees, burying his face into her small neck, his arms wrapping around her so tightly his knuckles turned white. He squeezed her as if he could physically pull her back inside his own body where the world couldn't touch her.
"Dada!" Sylaris squeaked, her voice muffled against his shoulder. She squirmed, her small fists planting against his chest to push him back.
"Stop! You're crushing me, Are you trying to kill the Great Warrior Sylaris with your squishing? I survived the monsters just to get suffocated by my own dad"
A giggle escaped Zaliyah's lips. He slowly unwrapped his arms, pulling back just enough to look at her, a gentle, trembling smile gracing his cherry stained lips.
He grabbed her by the shoulders, his violet eyes scanning every inch of her face. "Are you okay? Tell me does it hurt anywhere?
Sylaris patted her chest proudly and nodded. "Of course I am."
Zaliyah didn't just take her word for it. His hands moved desperately, checking her arms, her legs, turning her around to inspect her back, checking for any hidden tears in her uniform or scars. Only when he was certain there wasn't a single scratch, bruise, or drop of foreign blood on her porcelain skin did he let out a long, sigh of relief.
He leaned down and pressed a long, fervent kiss onto her forehead, right between her brow. "I was so worried," he murmured, "I feared the worst had happened when the informant told us."
Sylaris rolled her eyes with the exact, dramatic flair she had inherited from him. "Between you and Auntie Iruna, I really don't know who is more dramatic. She probably would have fainted into Thalassa's arms by now."
She crossed her chunky arms over her chest, a smug, insufferable grin spreading across her face. "I told you, Dada, I'm a warrior. I protect myself. In fact, I saved the whole school." She flexed her small chubby arms, puffing out her chest. "That's just what warriors do."
Zaliyah let out another soft giggle, the residual terror finally draining from his limbs. He reached down and hoisted the fat child into his arms. She was an incredibly heavy child, a little bundle of demon sweets and stubbornness, but Zaliyah didn't sway.
This was the exact reason he had pushed his body through brutal physical training over the last four years, he had built his strength precisely so he could carry his daughter whenever she needed it, no matter how big she grew.
For a beautiful, brief second, Zaliyah believed they were alone in the quiet corridor, safe in their little bubble.
Then, a sharp, dry cough cut through the silence from just a few paces ahead.
Zaliyah's posture instantly stiffened.
He turned his head to see the headmistress of the academy standing at the entrance of the main office. She was a formidable demon woman, dressed in a sweeping, high-collared gown of heavy black wool that looked ancient in its austerity.
A pair of small, square reading glasses hung precariously on the bridge of her hooked nose, and her ink-black hair was pulled back into a bun so tight it seemed to pull the skin of her temples . She stood with an imposing, rigid elegance, her dark eyes fixated on the papers in her hands before she slowly adjusted her glasses to stare at them.
She cleared her throat again, "We need to talk."
Zaliyah gave a polite nod, his grip tightening around his daughter. "Of course."
Before moving, however, the headmistress's gaze lingered. Her eyes fell on the fat child cradled in Zaliyah's arms. Then, she looked up at Zaliyah's face. She looked back down at the child, squinting through her lenses. Then back at Zaliyah.
The genetic puzzle before her was undeniable. Both parent and daughter possessed the same thin silver-white eyebrows. They shared the same snow-white eyelashes that cast delicate shadows on skin pale as winter frost. Their hair was the exact same shade of silver white. The only striking deviation lay in their eyes-the little girl possessed wide, crystalline blue irises, while the parent possessed deep, purple.
A dangerous thought blossomed in the headmistress's mind. These are not demon phenotypes. Not a single one.
"Are you her mother?" the headmistress asked, her voice dropping into a tone of deep skepticism. She simply could not fathom a paternal resemblance this unnaturally identical without a mother's dominant blood.
"She is my daughter," Zaliyah replied, his voice smooth and casual . He offered no further explanation.
The headmistress's brow twitched. "Just follow me."
She turned and led them into her private office. The room was a massive, oppressive display of Northern gothic architecture.
Towering shelves of dark, petrified wood lined the walls, stacked to the ceiling with ancient ledgers, jars of preserved monster organs, and human skin-bound grimoires. A massive chandelier made of black iron hung from the vaulted ceiling, its candles flickering with warm violet fire that threw long, dancing shadows across the room.
Zaliyah didn't wait to be invited to stand. He walked over to a velvet-lined chaise lounge and sat down gracefully, keeping his hands firmly wrapped around Sylaris, who nestled into his lap like a small cat.
As he settled, Zaliyah's eyes drifted toward the corner of the room. A young woman was standing close to the headmistress's large desk. She had grey skin and soft features, dressed in a simple but elegant lavender robe. Zaliyah noticed instantly that Sylaris's eyes were practically glued to her, the child's usual bratty demeanor completely vanishing into a shy, adoring stare.
The lady stepped forward, bowing her head respectfully. "Greetings, my Lord . I am Sylaris's tutor. I began my instruction a few weeks ago ."
The head mistress thought to herself lord ? He is a man ? Interesting
Zaliyah let out a soft, internal "Oh."
The pieces of the morning's puzzle finally fell into place. He looked at the teacher, then down at his daughter's flushed, enamored little face. The reason Sylaris had suddenly developed a profound passion for academics, the reason she was so eager to come to school, was beautifully simple, the new teacher looked like Iruna.
Sylaris was a silly, sentimental girl who desperately missed her favorite person when they were apart. A wave of warmth washed through Zaliyah, and he gazed down at the child with a tender smile.
He turned back to the grey-skinned woman, his voice softening. "I am Zaliyah. Thank you for looking after her during the chaos."
The teacher offered a warm, genuine smile. "I am well aware of who you are, my Lord. Sylaris talks about you constantly during our breaks. She is so proud of her 'dada'."
Sylaris's cheeks instantly turned a bright pink . She pouted fiercely, crossing her arms and turning her face away into Zaliyah's chest. "No, I don't! I never said that She's lying"
Zaliyah giggled, he planted a soft kiss onto the crown of the child's head. "Of course, my little warrior."
The headmistress let out a loud, dramatic sigh, slamming a heavy ledger down onto her desk to draw their attention back. "Moving on to the important matters at hand. The security of this institution has been-"
The oak door of the office suddenly creaked open, and Harun strode in, his eyes scanning the room for Zaliyah and the child, his tall frame instantly making the gothic office feel cramped.
The headmistress stopped mid-sentence. She glared at Harun, her nose wrinkling with disgust. "Guards are not allowed in the administrative quarters during private parental consultations. Leave at once."
"Uncle Harun" Sylaris shouted from Zaliyah's arms, waving her chubby hands wildly.
Zaliyah's violet eyes narrowed . The ambient temperature in the room dropped significantly, the faint scent of winter frost prickling the air. He was visibly annoyed by the headmistress's dismissive tone toward his chamberlain.
"He is not a guard," Zaliyah spoke "He is a close relative of mine. He stays where I stay."
Harun was stunned for a fraction of a second. His chest tightened at the words close relative, a sense of gratitude and loyalty swelling in his heart. But ever the dutiful protector, Harun recognized the complex political tightrope Zaliyah was walking with the school administration. He didn't want to cause further problems.
Harun stepped back, placing a hand over his chest and bowing deeply to Zaliyah. "I apologize, Your Highness. It is no trouble. I will wait just outside the door to ensure the perimeter remains secure." He smiled at Sylaris before stepping back out into the hallway, closing the doors behind him.
The headmistress adjusted her glasses again, her eyes boring into Zaliyah with renewed suspicion. " 'Your Highness?' A high title for a family we have no imperial record of in the Northwest registries. Let us be direct, Lord Zaliyah. Who exactly is Sylaris to you?"
"I am her father," Zaliyah replied instantly, his arms tightening around the child's waist like an iron band.