In every corner of the realm of Tenebria, power had its shape.
The witches bent the wilds, twisting root, curses, and sky.
The warlocks chained shadows and fed them blood.
The sorcerers carved order from chaos, their minds sharp as blades.
The familiar-tamers bound beasts with whispered names.
And the Void… the Void carried the stains of every crime the light could not touch.
Yet none of them ruled.
Over all of these stood the bloodline of kings — the Oath Kin.
Their throne was not built of stone but of vows older than crowns.
Every oath taken in this land — every pledge between lord and servant, husband and wife, master and pupil — was written first into the marrow of the royal blood.
To betray an Oath Kin was to choke on one's own vow. To defy them was to have your very word turn poison in your mouth.
Where others wielded spells, the Oath Kin wielded the hearts of men.
Their dominion was not in fire or storm, but in loyalty itself.
And for centuries, that loyalty had been both the realm's crown — and its chain.
The great hall of judgment had been called that night.
The royal family gathered beneath the high vaults, the air thick with incense and silence. The marble dais stretched like an altar, upon it the king, Emperor Gemma, and his sons and daughter — each bearing the sigil of Oath Kin, a faint shimmer on their skin, like living seals of law.
Below them, the court seethed. Lords, captains, physicians, even trembling servants who had seen blood — all summoned, all trapped beneath the weight of the Oath Kin's gaze.
The royal families were equally conflicted, knowing they would soon be called to expose what no royal ever wanted exposed. The voice who challenges the throne.
The seals were broken, and the Oath Book was brought forth. Its cover shimmered with runes, every page bound not by thread but by the weight of vows themselves. When the Emperor laid his hand upon it, the torches bent inward, shadows recoiling as the bindings stirred awake.
A herald stepped forward, voice shaking, as he began to read out the names that were erased from the book that day.
"The Third Prince, Orion—"
The letters of his name, written in blood, bled into nothing, vanishing from the page. "One bounded… released from the oath."
A hush swept the court.
"The Fourth Prince, Aiden—"
Concubine Auren's eyes widened, snapping toward the herald.
"Aiden? My son?"
The Herald lowered his head. That was the best he could do for the fourth prince's mother, or perhaps just to ease his guilt as he watched the name fade into nothing.
"Zero bounded."
Murmurs slithered through the gathered lords.
A sound rose from the concubine's seat — a sharp inhale that broke into a choked whisper.
"Ho… hold on," Auren's voice cut through the murmurs. "You are calling… the n… names of the — surely, my son ca…n't be de…dead."
The silent stare of the court. The glancing away of the servants. The grim look of the emperor. The furious glare of the seated crown prince.
All this half confirmed her suspicion.
"My s…on is," she glanced around.
No answer. Only silence, so heavy it was worse than a denial.
Her gaze swung to the throne, then to the crown prince, whose furious glare seemed aimed at her very denial.
It broke her.
Her lips twisted into a trembling laugh, brittle as glass. She staggered forward, clutching her chest.
"I took him away," she cried, half-screaming, half-sobbing. "After the Empress died — I took him from this nest of vipers! He was no threat to any of you!" Her voice cracked, raw and shrill.
"Your majesty! My Lord!"
The king's expression was grim. He made no attempt to reply.
Her laughter dissolved into wails, echoing against the marble. The courtiers shrank back, unsettled by grief given such a jagged edge.
With a sudden, frantic motion, she turned and ran, her silks trailing behind her like torn wings, vanishing through the towering doors.
And in her wake, the court was left in silence, each heart weighted by the echo of her loss.
"The Eighth Prince, Arin—" the Herald continued.
Again, the letters sank into the parchment like ash into water. "Zero bounded."
The silence deepened.
And then—
The doors thundered open.
Queen Namerie staggered inside, pale as bone, her gown trailing like spilled wine across the marble. Her maidens rushed along, aiding her every step. Her voice cracked through the hall, raw, breaking.
"The Fifth Prince, Lyonel—"
The Oath Book trembled, the page dimming, his name fading into dust.
A woman near the dais whispered to a new maiden, voice sharp as a shard, "Bound are those who serve a royal's will — guards, servants, anyone pledged by blood or oath. The book shows how many obey them, the oathknits spun into their marrow."
The herald finished, voice thin with something like fear: "Five bound — released."
A murmur ran like spilled wine through the court. Voices threaded together — small, hungry, terrified.
The queen let out a strangled cry, a sound that clawed at the ceiling. Her hands clutched at the emptiness before her as though she could seize the vanished names.
"Not my son! Not my child!!"
"His captain of guards… and the boy from the kitchens," someone said, as if naming them made the news more real.
"I heard two seamstresses and a chamberlain," another breathed. "All of them bound to his commands — used like tools. They're free now."
Queen Namerie's face went white as linen. She lurched forward, hands clawing at air. Her voice broke, a raw keening that poured into the vaulted hall: "My son—he can't be dead!"
She sagged, then folded, fainting to the marble before anyone could reach her. The court froze, the gossip swallowed by the weight of her cry and the terrible stillness that followed.
The king did not flinch. Instead, he ordered, his voice ringing across the haunted hall:
"Retire the queen to her chamber."
The physicians hurried forward to collect her, and soon the hall was silent again.
The Herald continued.
"The second princess yet lives, and we pray for a full recovery."
The crowd echoed in unison.
"May Aethereia grant our second princess full recovery!"
"I shall now recite the bond of the living!"
Tension reigned at the Herald's declaration. The royal family glanced, as if they were already fishing for the culprit with their eyes.
All gazes recorded every detail, and few murmurs arose when the crown prince tilted his head to whisper something to his valet.
His loyal valet cautiously glanced around the royal family and then at the first princess's mother.
Come to think of it, the first princess is missing.
Was the crown prince asking for her?
Do you think she did it?
The herald's hand shook as he turned to the names of the living. The book glowed faintly, threads of oaths coiling on the parchment like veins of fire.
"The First Prince, Viktor—"
A single name burned beneath his.
"One bounded… but no command recorded."
A ripple of relief hissed through the chamber, though not without its edge.
"Do you know the bond of the first prince?" someone whispered.
"We're lucky to even see him for the first time," another muttered.
No mark stained the page, no dark trace of blood order. The parchment held clean.
The herald swallowed and turned the page.
"The Second Prince, Astrid — two bounded."
Two names flickered, steady but unstained. No signs of recent command. The court stirred louder.
Astrid, and he never pressed them?
He spends more time with books than blades… perhaps his vows gather dust as well.
The herald moved on, his voice finding strength.
"The Sixth Prince, Flynn — zero bounded."
A smattering of nods. Flynn had never been the commanding sort, drifting through halls with little claim on anyone's loyalty.
Then the air grew taut.
The herald's voice caught.
"The Crown Prince Kaelin — zero bounded."
The torches guttered. The court gasped as one.
Impossible.
No heir sits without an army of bound at their command.
The book lies!
But the page glowed blank, empty as a grave. Not a single name tethered to the crown prince's will.
The whispers tangled into outrage.
"The crown prince… zero bound? That cannot be."
"Not even his own guard?"
"No — his valet!" one of the lords blurted, the words cracking like a whip. "The boy who shadows him everywhere."
Eyes swung to the man standing behind the crown prince's chair. Not royal blood, not marked by seal or title, only a servant — yet one whose obedience was known across the empire.
"Aah — the servant that dares to bear the name of a prince," another sneered.
Ryker didn't batter an eye, neither did he flinch at the harsh comments.
"He has always obeyed without question," someone muttered.
"Even against the law."
"He moves when the crown prince breathes. If that is not an oath, what is it?"
The court stirred, voices climbing.
"But his name is not in the Book."
"Then by what bond does he follow? If not oath, then what?"
The words clung in the vaulted chamber like a hanging blade. Every eye weighed the crown prince… and the silent valet who stood behind him like a shadow made flesh.
The herald's hand trembled as he turned the next page, the glow of living oaths coiling like veins across the parchment.
"The Ninth Prince, Ryker — one bounded. No command recorded."
A hush. Some eyes flicked toward him, sharp and lingering, but the book showed no stain. Ryker's oathkin slumbered, untouched.
The page turned again.
"The Tenth Prince…" The herald's voice faltered. "One bounded. Absent."
A murmur rippled through the court.
The herald pressed on.
"The First Princess, Vuelta — five bounded." His voice rose to cut through the whispers. "Absent."
The air thickened. Five names burned on the page, steady and intact — but their mistress nowhere to face them.
"The Second Princess — five bounded. She lies unconscious, unable to answer."
A concubine's sob carried faintly, but the herald did not pause.
"The Third Princess, Amon — one bounded. No command recorded."
The glow dimmed, the book falling still. The last page closed with a snap that echoed against marble and steel.
For a long breath, no one moved.
So many names, so many loyalties laid bare — yet no stain, no proof of blood orders.
The culprit is still veiled, hidden behind vows and shadows.
And in the silence that followed, the weight of fear pressed heavier than before.
The killer is still out.
Among them.
TBC…