The ball had ended with guests slowly retreating to their rooms. Music still lingered faintly through the corridors, muffled by distance and closing doors.
Cecilus stood alone on one of the upper balconies, his hands resting on the cold stone railing. Lantern light from below wavered across the marble floor, and the air smelled faintly of wine and lavender oil drifting up from the ballroom.
They'll announce his death tomorrow. The wedding will either be canceled, or they'll cover it up and carry on as if nothing happened. Either way, I couldn't care less.
He tilted his head upward. The night sky above was clear, scattered with stars like dust on black silk. His eyes followed their slow gleam as his thoughts wandered.
Dealing with him swiftly was the right short-term response. But Father will probably think differently. He'll say the optimal move would've been to cut Regnier off, not to aggravate the council. That would take time, though—and Cecilus didn't have time to waste.
I'm here only a few more months… just to ensure my family's safety. After that, I'll be gone.
A quiet breeze tugged at his coat. He looked over the edge of the balcony, down at the lanterns flickering below.
How long will Father even bother searching for me once I leave? A year, maybe. Not because I'm worthless… but because he'll figure out why I left by then. He's not an idiot. He'll understand.
To him I'm just a memento—a way for him to leave something behind for Mother.
A small tug at the hem of his cloak broke his reverie.
Cecilus turned. Behind him stood a small boy, eyes red and wet.
Timothy.
"Why are you up right now?" Cecilus asked, frowning slightly.
"I… I can't wake him up! He's not waking up!" The boy's voice trembled, panic cracking through every word.
Cecilus froze. He didn't know what to do.
The boy tugged again, pleading silently. Then he began pulling him by the hand, guiding him down the hall.
Cecilus followed. His mind twisted with unease.
As Timothy's thoughts bled into him, fragments of memory struck Cecilus like shards—running feet, a cheerful plan to surprise his father, the pride of showing off a new spell.
Despite having a different mother, Timothy was never treated any differently in the family. He was respected and found pride in showing his efforts to his father.
Cecilus felt what Timothy had seen.
Then dread. The stillness. The cold.
Cecilus swallowed. His lips curled down faintly.
When they reached Regnier's room, the boy pushed the door open. The scent of burnt candle wax and parchment hung heavy in the air. Regnier sat slumped over the bed, motionless.
Timothy ran to him, shaking his arm desperately.
"Can you do something?" the boy cried. "I heard you're strong! You can save him, right?"
Cecilus stared at the body—his own handiwork—and forced the words out.
"No. He's dead."
He blinked. His vision blurred. His fingertips brushed his cheek and came away damp.
He didn't know if the tears were his… or if they were borrowed from the boy beside him.
Father gave me the letter he found in this room. Regnier betrayed us—to secure a marriage for his son. For Timothy.
If Father were in the same position… would he have done the same for me?
The answer came without hesitation.
He would. Without a doubt.
"You need to get your mother," Cecilus said quietly. "Tell no one else."
Timothy nodded and ran, stumbling through tears.
Cecilus stayed behind, his shoulders shaking once before he caught himself. Then—unexpectedly—he laughed. Softly, bitterly.
Neither Father nor I were seen coming here. We won't be suspects.
I'm sorry, Timothy… but the world we live in isn't one where I can listen to everyone's heart.
His laughter faded into silence.
But I wish it were. If the world worked that way… it would be beautiful.
He wiped the tears from his face just as Regnier's wife burst into the room, her nightgown loose, hair disheveled.
"Timothy told me— Is he really dead?"
Her voice shook, but Cecilus didn't need to read her mind to see it. The faint spark behind her eyes wasn't grief.
It was relief.
Joy.
Freedom.
She had longed for this. To be rid of the man who chained her life to his. Forcing her to accept Timothy as her own son and suppress her emotions of betrayal.
Cecilus only nodded.
Everyone has chains they wish to break. My job isn't to hate or forgive—it's to recognize that truth.
Someone's suffering always feeds another's happiness. That's how the world works.
If Marina's father and stepmother died, she'd feel joy too. I wouldn't blame her.
So why do I blame myself? Why does this boy's pain hurt so much?
Regnier's wife straightened, wiping her face and masking the joy beneath composure. "Don't tell anyone about this," she said. "We'll… we'll keep silent until after the wedding."
Cecilus inclined his head. "Understood."
That's what I would do too. Regnier wouldn't want his daughter's wedding ruined by his death.
He glanced once more at the body.
You were a traitor, Uncle Regnier… but a good father. A terrible man, a worse husband—but you did right by your children.
Cecilus turned and left the room.
In the empty hallway, he let out a slow breath.
Did Timothy really trust me enough to come to me first? Maybe I was just the closest person he saw. Or maybe…
He shook his head.
No. Don't think about it.
He walked on, the echo of his boots fading into silence.
The poison worked… a bit too quickly, perhaps. He must've fallen asleep right after. It was sloppy—but effective. With everyone occupied at the ball, it bought me time. That's what matters.
Cecilus reached his quarters and finally lay down.
Sleep came without guilt—only the weight of calculation.
***
The next morning, sunlight filtered through the curtains. The wedding began as though nothing had happened.
Regnier's death was buried beneath laughter, vows, and the glitter of gold rings.
By evening, Alison was married, and the festivities carried long into the night.
The next day, Cecilus' family prepared to leave.
***
Marina trudged down a dirt path, two buckets of water hanging from her arms. The sun was high and merciless. Beside her, Efrain swung a stick lazily at the air, while four boys trailed behind, laughing and shoving each other.
Before I met them, chores like this were peaceful, Marina thought bitterly. Now it's just noise.
She'd hoped Cecilus's absence would quiet things down. Instead, Efrain and his friends still followed her everywhere, claiming to "help."
"Oh yeah," Efrain said, spinning his stick. "Cecilus is coming back today, isn't he?"
The boys behind him stiffened.
Marina smirked faintly.
They're scared of even hearing his name. What did he do to them while I was gone?
"Next time we get a mission," Efrain continued, "no one's gonna be the victim. It'll actually be fun."
"What do you mean, one of us was the victim?" Don asked, frowning.
Marina looked back over her shoulder, eyes glinting. "Remember when you got scared because of a few plants in your room?"
"HUH!? That was you? My mom made me do extra chores for a week!"
Don lunged forward, but his friends grabbed his arms.
"Don't! What if she tells the half-elf?"
"Shut up! I wasn't gonna hurt her. Just… scare her a little."
Marina laughed under her breath. "Oh? I must've misheard you. It sounded like you thought you could scare us."
"You little—!"
Efrain glanced at her and smiled faintly.
It's been a week, but she's finally started talking. Even if it's just to make Don mad…
Efrain's father used to be a slave, but, due to the convergence, many slaves were freed. However, since the convergence had never fully occurred, the slaves who weren't set free in Heimwelm were still considered slaves.
Although technically Marina lived in Ascension, she was at the border where regulation was mostly held by Heimwelm. So Marina remained a slave.
Efrain had not verbally or physically harassed Marina once in the past, but he followed along with his friends, which he believed was equally as shallow. Of all people, he should have known to try to stop his friends, but his courage was not enough.
Now that he saw Marina having some confidence in speaking to his friends, he felt as though his efforts staying around her were rewarded and his sins were clean.
When they reached her home, Efrain and the others split off. He lingered for a moment, watching the road that led to the Crow manor.
The faint sound of hooves carried on the wind. Carriages rolled in the distance, sunlight flashing off the crests painted on their sides.
Cecilus had returned.