The halls of the Southern Palace were heavy with unrest.
Selene stood by the window, staring down at the courtyard as guards shuffled below in tight formation. Her fingers clutched the edge of the latest report—Theodore had confirmed it. The portrait they intercepted was the same one the spy had identified.
And yet… he hadn't responded to her since.
Her expression remained unreadable, but a tightness formed in her chest.
As if that weren't enough, something far worse had begun to take root. A strange illness had started to spread through the outer towns. No known cause. No warning. Just fevers, hallucinations, and terrified whispers that grew with each passing day.
Panic festered like rot in the streets.
And now—rumours.
They spread faster than the sickness. Notes and letters flooded the duchy gates, left on doorsteps, tied to pigeons, even whispered by merchants passing through:
"Bring our lady back... and the disease will disappear."
Selene stared at the pile of requests stacked on her desk, the ink still wet on some.
Her people were desperate. They believed Aria's return would cure the land. But Selene—despite all her strength—didn't understand where this belief was coming from. Was it blind faith? Or… was there something more at play?
She turned to her knight commander.
"Tighten the patrols. Increase inspections in the border villages. I want every strange movement reported to me directly."
"Yes, Your Grace."
The room fell quiet once again.
"Sir Tristian," Selene called softly.
He turned immediately at the sound of her voice. Her expression was unreadable, but there was a tightness in her jaw—something between exhaustion and worry.
"Do you think…" she hesitated, her gaze drifting to the window where the distant town lay beneath a shroud of unease. "Do you think it's time to bring Aria back?"
Tristian paused for a moment, weighing his words carefully. Then, with a respectful bow, he replied, "Your Grace, everything was fine until just a few days ago. This sudden shift—it feels orchestrated. As if someone wants Lady Aria to return for reasons beyond curing this illness."
Selene's lips pressed into a thin line, and she exhaled a quiet, troubled sigh. "I agree. The pattern is too deliberate. It's not just disease—it's unrest. Panic. And our physicians still can't determine the source."
"The people are frightened," Tristian added. "They believe bringing her back will save them. But belief can be dangerous when it's manipulated."
Selene moved to her desk and sat down slowly. She reached for her quill and parchment, her voice calm but resolute.
"Then I'll write to His Majesty. He must be informed—this is no longer a local matter. I'll also write to the Tower Master. If this is magic-born, Icarus needs to know."
Tristian bowed again. "I'll have riders prepared."
As she began to write, her thoughts lingered on Aria.
Suddenly, the air in the chamber shifted. A gust of wind pushed open the tall windows, and with it, Vireth emerged. His great wings folded behind him as he stepped forward, his presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room.
"Duchess Selene," he greeted, bowing his head slightly. His voice was low, threaded with the echo of storm and shadow. "The diary has been found. The portrait confirmed it—it was Khalid who's been searching for the Silver Sword."
Selene's eyes narrowed. "Khalid…"
"I tracked him," Vireth continued. "His last trace was near the southern border—and another appeared in Ashkalon, only days ago. He's moving fast. The intent is clear now. Khalid is planning to take Aria along with the sword. The full reason isn't known yet, but the danger is undeniable."
He paused; his gaze sharp with quiet determination. "Protect the Silver Sword. I will protect her."
Selene's breath caught, her fingers tightening around the quill she had only moments ago been writing with. Her voice, though steady, carried the burden of rising fear.
"There is more," she said. "An unknown disease has begun spreading through the southern lands. Our physicians are at a loss, and the citizens…" Her voice faltered briefly. "They keep sending letters, pleading with me to bring Aria back. As if her presence alone will drive the illness away."
Vireth stilled.
"Unknown disease…" he repeated slowly, a flicker of something strange flashing through his purple eyes. He glanced toward the shadows as if consulting something unseen, then took a step closer.
Selene rose from her seat, the weight of command pressing heavily on her shoulders. "we have to act quickly."
Vireth nodded. "Master is already preparing."
Like a whisper of wind under moonlight, Vireth spread his wings and vanished into the night.
That same night, Selene couldn't rest.
She stood atop the southern watchtower, her silver cloak fluttering behind her as the wind carried with it something familiar… something wrong. A presence. Without a word, she leapt from the stone battlement, her body moving soundlessly through the air as her silver aura cloaked her from all eyes.
She followed the presence like a shadow chasing smoke. Her steps never touched the ground until she reached the broken remains of an abandoned mansion near the southern border. She slipped through the shattered gates like a ghost.
Inside the crumbling estate, torchlight flickered faintly against cracked walls. And there, cloaked in black and concealed beneath layers of enchanted fabric, stood a man she would recognize anywhere.
Lioan.
His face hidden—but Selene's eyes narrowed. She would know him even if the world forgot him.
"I think it's better we go back to Ashkalon," Lioan whispered, his tone tense. "It's not safe here anymore, Prince."
A figure stood further in the shadows—tall, sharp, and cold as steel. Khalid. His voice cut through the silence like a blade. "I don't care. I'll get what I need."
"Any word from that person?" Lioan asked cautiously.
"Not yet," Khalid replied, folding his arms.
"We'll get the Silver Sword. That's all that matters."
Lioan stiffened. "Silver Sword? You… you told me it was about old records. That's what you said!" His voice cracked with disbelief.
Khalid's laugh echoed off the walls, cruel and hollow. "Oh? Did I say that?" he mocked. "Can't remember. Maybe I lied."
Lioan's brows furrowed beneath his hood. "Prince, the Silver Sword isn't some artifact you can pocket. It's not even belongs to Ashkalon. Why do you want it so badly?"
Khalid turned, and for a moment, his eyes glinted with something far older than hatred. "You're right. It's not belongs to Ashkalon. But I don't intend to take it there. I intend to destroy it… unlike last time."
"…Last time?" Lioan's voice dropped into a whisper. "What are you talking about? I don't understand anything anymore, Khalid."
"I don't need you to understand." Khalid turned away, as if dismissing him like a pawn on a board already played. "I just need to finish what was started."
Lioan stepped back. "I'm going back to Ashkalon. I don't want any part of this anymore."
But then Khalid's voice slid through the air like venom. "Fine. But didn't you once tell me… you wanted to see Duchess Selene broken? Heart shattered?"
Lioan froze.
"I… I…" he stammered, his voice losing confidence.
Selene, hidden in the rafters above, clenched her fists. Her silver aura flickered faintly, like lightning behind clouds.
"You're stuttering…" Khalid's voice dropped to a near growl, eyes narrowing. "You're no use to me anymore."
Lioan backed away, shaking his head. "Wait—wait, Khalid, I didn't mean—"
But it was already too late.
Khalid's eyes ignited—a crimson glow like dying suns bleeding into twilight. His hand rose, slow and deliberate, fingers curling with unnatural grace.
Then he touched Lioan.
A sickening sound echoed through the chamber.
Lioan didn't scream. He simply… shattered.
His body broke apart in jagged, crystalline fragments, as if he'd been turned to glass and dropped from the heavens. Blood burst across the walls like a cruel painting, splashing onto Khalid's cheek. Silence fell.
Khalid licked the blood from his skin.
"I should've erased him long ago," he whispered to himself with a cold, twisted satisfaction.
And then—
he vanished. Not a trace. Not a ripple in the air. Only the carnage he left behind.
Selene's body remained perfectly still, but her breath caught in her throat.
She had seen war.
But this—this was something else.
A flicker of fear danced in her chest, something she hadn't felt in years.
"What… is he?" she murmured, her voice barely audible, even to herself.
And for the first time in decades…
she didn't have the answer.