Behind the western wing of the palace and situated close to the kitchen and stables, a guard stood watch beside a small wooden gate. He had his sword sheathed and a watchful expression on his face. Everything would have seemed normal if his eyes didn't dart sideways every now and then, as though he was looking for something—or someone.
About five minutes later, a silhouette appeared in the dark pathway, carrying a torch.
"Why did you take so long? The captain is going to suspect," he whispered. "Are they here yet?"
The silhouette pulled down the cloak covering her head and nodded. "They just arrived. Open the door."
F
The guard nodded in response and opened the small wooden door. The door stood open for only a few seconds before two individuals materialised inside the palace walls, their movement so swift that it escaped both watchers' notice.
The guard, realising their presence too late, unsheathed his sword—but the maid caught his hand, her expression stern.
"Do you want to die?" she hissed, pulling his arm down. "Welcome, Sirs. My Lord told me to expect you."
The maid bowed and spoke with utmost respect.
A heavy scent of metal permeated the air, making the guard wrinkle his nose.
The two figures stared silently, but neither responded. When the maid heard nothing, she raised her head—only to find the space before her empty.
"They seemed dangerous," the guard muttered uneasily. The fact that he hadn't sensed their arrival until it was too late unsettled him deeply.
The maid averted her gaze and turned to him. "They are dangerous. They don't just look dangerous."
She pulled out a pouch and tossed it into his hands. "Go back to your post, because the night is going to be long."
With that, she pulled up her cloak and left. The area soon fell silent again, with no sign of the meeting that had taken place.
---
In the inner walls of the palace, Carrissa sat on a bench in the garden, holding a glass in her hand. The distant music of the ball felt worlds away.
"Excuse me!" She called a servant carrying a tray. He looked at her oddly before approaching. Distracted, Carrissa set her cup down without noticing anything was off.
She looked up at the sky, her mind lost in thought.
"Would you mind if I sit here?"
A familiar yet distant voice startled her.
"No, I would not, my Prince," Carrissa answered after realising it was Garran.
Garran offered a polite smile and sat down.
"Sorry for leaving you back there… something came up," he apologised.
Carrissa waved it off dismissively. "No need to fret, my Prince."
A grin tugged at her lips. "Are they getting on your nerves?"
Garran raised a brow, not understanding.
"I mean the sycophants. Are they getting on your nerves?"
"You could say so." He chuckled and looked up at the stars. "It was getting suffocating in there."
Carrissa giggled softly. A cool breeze swept through the garden, and she closed her eyes, smiling.
"You are not—"
"Congratulations—"
They spoke in unison, then broke into laughter.
"You go first," Garran offered, turning to face her.
Carrissa nodded. "I wanted to congratulate you on your sister's marriage."
The air tensed instantly. A subtle frown crossed Garran's face before he quickly smoothed it away.
"Thank you, Lady Carrissa," he said with a forced smile, jaw tightening as he looked back toward the sky.
Carrissa noticed and realised she'd touched a forbidden topic. She tried to change the mood.
"You were about to say something."
Garran turned to her, confused.
"When we both spoke—you were…"
"Right." Garran nodded, lightly tapping his forehead. "I just wanted to say that you're different from how people describe you. Even though it's been less than three hours since we met."
Carrissa stared blankly, while Garran tried to gather himself, thinking of how to dissolve the awkwardness.
After a few seconds, Carrissa chuckled. "Maybe they weren't as persistent as they should have been."
"Oh, really? So… was I persistent enough?" Garran asked, a genuine smile forming for the first time that evening.
For once, he felt at peace doing something that didn't involve Sera—and that felt strange, though not unwelcome.
Carrissa smiled and nodded, unaware of the tenebrous shadow creeping closer to them.
Back in the ballroom, Sera stood rooted at the entrance after hearing the announcement. She wasn't shocked—just surprised.
Her gaze shifted to her father on the dais. He looked unwell, though skillfully masked with cosmetics.
"To imagine, he got out of bed to announce his daughter's marriage but won't let that same daughter see him," Sera muttered.
Remembering her talk with Adna, she drew a steadying breath. Patience. Resolution.
Lifting her chin, she took long strides toward the dais. From the opposite side, a brown-haired man also approached.
King Hendrick watched his daughter, expecting a frown or an outburst. Instead, he was caught off guard by her quiet question.
"How are you feeling now, Father?" Sera whispered. Her voice carried a touch of concern.
King Hendrick paused, momentarily moved, his gaze softening—then hardening again.
"This is not the time for small talk," he retorted, forcing a smile as he looked down at the gossiping nobles.
The balance of power now tilted toward the Caelharrows, and by extension, Eldoria itself.
Envoys from surrounding kingdoms wore uneasy expressions. They had allowed the black hole to grow larger. Eldoria was already formidable, but now—with an alliance with the Grand Assembly and Relanor—it would be nearly unstoppable.
On the sidelines, Earl Reggie watched with a deepening frown.
'So this is what the old bastard has been planning,' he thought, massaging his temples as a headache began to form.
King Hendrick scanned the crowd, satisfied. "The marriage will be held next month, and everyone is invited," he announced with a smile. "The two families can't wait to work together."
The nobles understood the unspoken message: the two most powerful families in the Soltheria region were forming an alliance. A shift in power was inevitable.
"I believe the—"
"Help! Help! The Prince… he has been attacked!"
Carrissa burst into the ballroom, hands stained crimson, horror etched across her face. Chaos erupted instantly.
Sera was the first to move, striding after her.
"Seal the palace!" the King bellowed, his pale blue eyes blazing with fury. Minos stood behind him, his face hard and grim.
They reached the garden and found Garran collapsed on the bench, clutching his abdomen.
"Garran… Garran!" Sera knelt beside him, tears streaming down her face."Who did this to you?"
Before he could answer, the air turned icy. For a moment, it felt as if it might snow—until a cold, commanding voice broke through.
"The Seventh Prince of the Iskarian Empire."
The crowd parted instantly. At its head stood a man with frost-silver eyes, his retinue flanking him.
"Prince Veyron Ironfrost."