The stone-paved roads of the royal capital glistened with patchy water stains as the first snow melted, and the chill of dawn sharpened both vigilance and resolve. Queen Evelyn and Lucian walked side by side into the Imperial Secret Hall—a chamber once where conspirators of hidden schemes were tried and suppressed, now the heart of royal power and confidential affairs. Chancellor Gu, Meixia, and Kaelia already waited in the dimly lit, warm alcove, their expressions grave.
"Your Highness," Chancellor Gu reported in a low voice, "Amid the implementation of the 'Post-Snow Reconstruction Decree,' rumors of the 'Crimson Moon Curse' have spread in the palace. It is said that someone chants ancient incantations at the top of the Crimson Moon Tower deep at night, seeking to awaken the spirits of the dead and stir panic among the people."
Evelyn's brow furrowed tightly. "If such rumors hold truth, this is not merely a test of faith, but an attempt to dismantle the new policies through fear. Lucian, take the shadow guards to investigate the tower tonight. You must root out the mastermind behind this."
Lucian nodded, resting his longsword lightly against the hall's eave. "Old curses in cold nights are not to be underestimated. I will circle back to the North Gate, ascend the tower tonight, and first dispatch Western Ridge sentinels to seal off the surrounding area."
That night, the darkness hung heavy, with dark clouds obscuring half of the crescent moon. Lucian, Kaelia, and several elite scouts scaled the steep walls of the Crimson Moon Tower. At the summit, a robed figure inscribed blood runes, while low incantations drifted on the wind. Behind the figure stood several armor-clad heaps of rubble—remains of former soldiers wrongfully executed, their spirits bound.
Lucian drew his sword and severed the etched runes. The robed figure yelped, swinging a dagger in retaliation. Kaelia lunged forward, her blade tearing through fabric to reveal a familiar emblem—the mark of a former High Priest of the Holy Temple. She gasped, "This is the blood seal of Priest Enos!"
Lucian parried the robed figure's attack with his sword, roaring, "Enos! You have betrayed the Holy Light, meddled with the undead—your crimes deserve eternal damnation!" The robed figure tore off his hood, revealing Enos's aged yet still dignified face. "If I do not wield the power of the dead," he said, his voice cold but trembling faintly, as if defending himself, "how else will the living understand the value of their own lives?"
Brought back to the Secret Hall, Enos was forced to confess: old nobles and the Black Wing faction of the had colluded, using undead illusions to terrorize the people and plot the restoration of the old order. "We intended to rouse the living's conscience with the wails of the dead," Enos sobbed, "never imagining it would be twisted into a tool of terror."
Evelyn's gaze was icy, her scepter trembling slightly. "If trust is shattered by lies, even the noblest intent becomes a poisoned blade. Your penance today is to destroy all these blood runes and illusions!" With a wave of her scepter, guards burned the remaining incantation scrolls and the undead remains. The purification ritual reduced the tower's summit to a blank slate, lit by flames in the cold night.
When the last embers died and moonlight returned, Lucian and Evelyn returned to the Spring Pavilion. The spring water shimmered with a blue hue amid lingering snow and candlelight. Evelyn leaned against his shoulder, her hands trembling slightly. "The plots in this dark hall are colder than any snowstorm."
Lucian wrapped his arms around her from behind. "You bear a thousand burdens—let me shield you from wind and snow." He draped a cloak over her shoulders, his fingertips brushing the nape of her neck. "The night may be cold, but my heart burns only for you."
He kissed her neck softly, his fingers slowly loosening the sash at her waist as he laid her gently on the stone couch. She closed her eyes and murmured, "Lucian, let all cold fade into tenderness tonight."
Candlelight glowed against the snow as they shed their garments, skin pressing against skin. Lucian traced her neck and chest with lips and tongue, his fingertips sliding to the mark at her heart—where Holy Light and royal blood intertwined. Evelyn's fingers unfastened his robes, feeling the warmth and solidity of his chest.
Snowy night and candlelight merged, their bodies becoming the most intimate altar. As ecstasy overtook her, she whispered, "In your arms, I finally feel safe." He murmured in return, "You are the eternal Holy Light in my heart."