Seated quietly in the corner, the same young maiden who had been searching restlessly now let her gaze drift once more through the gathering. It moved from face to face—until, at last, it came to rest upon a familiar figure in the distance.
Cassian.
He was striding away, his movements sharp, his posture rigid with restrained fury.
The moment she saw him, recognition came without effort.
He was her brother.
She did not need words to understand—his expression alone, the tension in his steps, the slight haste in his stride… all of it spoke clearly enough. She had known him since childhood. Cassian had never hesitated to mock others, to cut them down with words—but should anyone dare return the same… he would not stop until he had utterly destroyed them.
That thought alone was enough.
Without wasting a single moment, she rose from her seat, gathering the folds of her attire with practiced grace, and began to follow him. She kept her distance, careful, measured—her eyes never leaving his back. From afar, she watched as he moved through the hall, making his way toward the great doors, as though he intended to leave without pause.
Then—she stopped.
A strange unease stirred within her.
Something was not right.
She steadied herself at once and turned toward a nearby servant, feigning conversation so that her brother would not notice her presence. With her back now to the doors, her lips moved as though she spoke, yet no true words passed between them.
At that very moment, Cassian slowed.
A sensation brushed against his awareness—the unmistakable feeling of being watched.
He halted instantly and turned without hesitation, his gaze sweeping sharply across the hall. A flicker of alertness crossed his features. Yet nothing seemed out of place. Nobles remained engrossed in their own discourse, the soft music continued to drift through the air, and the hall appeared as it had moments before—unchanged.
Then his eyes found her.
A girl—sky-blue hair, pale garments trimmed with the fur of a wolf.
Recognition struck at once.
"Astraya…" he murmured, faint surprise threading through his voice.
For a brief moment, he stilled, disbelief flickering in his gaze. His own sister… following him?
But the hesitation passed as swiftly as it had come.
Whatever had driven him forward held greater weight.
"Perhaps I am mistaken…" he thought to himself.
Without further pause, he turned and continued on, his pace quickening as he crossed beyond the great doors. The bearing of a prince faded from his stride—replaced instead by the urgency of a man driven by purpose.
---
The moment Cassian disappeared beyond the hall, Astraya turned ever so slightly, abandoning her pretense. Her eyes moved quickly, scanning the space—then fixed upon the doorway, where only the faint trace of his departing figure remained.
He was gone.
For a fleeting instant, concern passed through her eyes.
Then she moved.
Without hesitation, she turned fully and advanced toward the doors, her steps swift yet controlled, her composure never breaking.
Behind her, the servant remained where he stood, momentarily bewildered. A princess had stood before him—spoken, or seemed to speak—yet nothing of substance had passed between them. Such things were not uncommon within noble courts; messages were often conveyed without words, intentions carried in gestures alone. Yet this… he did not understand.
---
As Astraya stepped beyond the hall, she was met by the presence of soldiers clad in dark coats, their hands resting upon the hilts of their swords. Their presence was heavy, imposing—yet she paid them no heed, her attention already shifting elsewhere.
Her gaze turned toward the path that led onward from the palace.
Beyond the great doors of the Grand Hall, ten broad marble steps descended toward the royal gardens below. Yet from the very meeting point of those steps and the entrance, on both the right and left, stretched a vast arcaded gallery—its series of arches running alongside the palace walls, extending far into the distance like a silent corridor of stone.
The gallery stood elevated from the ground at the same height as the descending steps, its long stretch running alongside the palace walls with quiet grandeur. At measured intervals, intricately carved stone balconies extended outward, each adorned with velvet chairs arranged for private repose.
Opposite these balconies, narrow arched doorways opened into the inner chambers of the palace—secluded passages that led away from the noise and spectacle of the grand hall.
It was a place set apart from celebration… a haven beneath the pale glow of moonlight, where hushed voices carried secrets, and quiet exchanges shaped unseen outcomes.
Astraya moved along this path with steady steps.
At some distance ahead, her eyes caught sight of a balcony where a lone figure stood, leaning against a stone balustrade, his gaze cast toward the gardens below. At the heart of those gardens stood a fountain—its form shaped into a silver raven, though its wings were dark as night, catching the moonlight in an eerie contrast.
Astraya's gaze shifted slightly—
And then she saw him.
Her brother stood behind that figure.
A thought rose at once within her mind, sharp and immediate—Cassian… what are you doing here…?
To gain a clearer view, she turned toward a nearby arched passage that led back into the palace. Without hesitation, she slipped inside and moved swiftly through the corridor, emerging moments later from another archway on the opposite side. This entrance was less grand—one used primarily by servants—and lay farther from the main thoroughfare.
She advanced carefully, her steps quiet, until she reached a shadowed corner of the wall. There, she came to a halt, concealed from sight, yet positioned to observe everything before her.
From that angle, she could see them clearly.
Cassian stood with his back to her, his posture rigid, his attention fixed entirely upon the man before him.
Astraya stilled her breath and listened.
For a time, there was nothing.
No words—only the restless whisper of wind moving through stone and arch, carrying with it a strange, pressing tension that seemed to settle over the space.
Then, at last, Cassian's voice broke the silence.
"It would seem… our exchange earlier was left unfinished, Prince."
The figure leaning against the balustrade—Lucian—slowly straightened, his back easing away from the cold stone. He turned, unhurried, his movements bearing the weight of fatigue, yet his expression remained composed.
"I suspected as much," he replied in a low, weary tone. "You appear to favour prolonging such matters." A faint pause followed, his gaze steady despite the strain within him. "However… I find myself otherwise occupied at present. I would prefer not to continue this conversation. You have my apologies, Prince Cassian."
There was a lightness to his voice—but beneath it lay exhaustion, and something far heavier.
The night air had grown sharper now, the wind stirring more fiercely, carrying strands of their hair across their faces and brushing against their garments. Cassian lifted a hand, pushing his hair back, his eyes never leaving Lucian.
That same crooked smile lingered upon his lips.
"You do not speak what you truly wish to say," he murmured, his voice quiet, yet edged with something deeper. "You speak only what the moment demands… what seems proper."
He took a single step forward.
His gaze darkened.
"But I am not so restrained."
Another step.
"I say what I desire… when I desire it."
His voice lowered further, gaining weight.
"And what I desire now… is to settle the account between us."
He paused for a brief moment, as though allowing his anger to gather strength—then, without warning, he stepped forward and seized Lucian by the collar, dragging him closer with force.
Within Cassian's pale, frost-like eyes, the fractured veins—marks of his lineage—seemed to deepen, spreading like dark chasms beneath ice, while that same crooked smile, laced with scorn, lingered upon his lips.
In stark contrast, Lucian's blue eyes remained utterly still.
Calm. Unshaken.
He met Cassian's gaze without hesitation—without fear.
And that… unsettled him.
For a fleeting instant, something sharp stirred within Cassian—an irritation, almost a wound to his pride. This was not the reaction he had expected. Not from one he had already judged as weak.
The next moment, frustration overtook him.
With a sudden motion, he shoved Lucian back.
Lucian staggered, his footing faltering, his balance nearly lost—yet he struck against the stone balustrade behind him and managed, somehow, to steady himself. Even so, his gaze did not waver.
It remained fixed upon Cassian.
Unbroken.
Cassian drew in a deep breath, as though attempting to regain control. He brushed his hands together, as if he had touched something beneath him.
"I must admit," he said at last, his voice low, restrained, yet edged with anger, "it is… worthy of note. To maintain such composure in every circumstance—no matter how unfavourable—that is no small feat."
He paused.
His eyes sharpened once more.
"But do not mistake this for resolution. Our account… is far from settled."
The brief calm upon his face fractured again, anger returning in slow, visible waves. The cracks within his pale eyes seemed to deepen further.
"Because of you," he continued through clenched teeth, "I was made to endure far more than I should have—from King Wilhelm Dravenor."
He ran a hand across his face, forcing himself back into restraint, as though standing upon the edge of something far more dangerous.
"I admit…" he said more quietly, "there are moments when I lose command of myself."
Then he leaned closer.
"So let us make this simple."
His voice dropped.
"Offer your apology… and we shall be done."
As he spoke, he closed his eyes and tilted his head slightly, bringing one ear nearer—as though awaiting that single word.
---
Yet Lucian did not move.
Still leaning against the balustrade, he remained as he was—silent, expressionless, listening.
Outwardly, he was composed.
Within… there was a storm.
I was afraid… the thought came to him, unbidden. I do not understand it… why do I falter before men such as these? Why can I not stand alone?
His thoughts began to unravel.
Each time… someone comes to shield me. First my mother… who kept me from all harm. Then my sister in Sylvian… then Uncle Malakar at the gathering… and even now…
The realization struck harder than any blow.
Again… someone will come.
Because I am nothing more than a frail prince… one who cannot even defend his own honour.
The thought halted.
Something within him trembled.
Why…?
And in the depths of his own mind, Lucian turned upon himself—silent, yet merciless—condemning his own weakness.
---
Cassian opened his eyes once more, studying him.
"Did you say something?" he asked, his brow narrowing. "For a moment, I believed you were about to offer your apology, Prince Lucian."
But when he saw that same vacant, unmoving expression, something in him snapped again.
He straightened.
His teeth clenched.
"You wretched prince…"
His voice had deepened, heavy with restrained fury, that dangerous smile returning to his lips.
"A mere apology would have been too lenient a punishment," he continued, his tone quiet… yet far more menacing than before. "And yet, it seems you would even scorn such mercy."
A pause.
"Then I shall have no choice… but to amend your punishment."
---
From the shadowed corner of the wall, Astraya watched.
She could not hear every word clearly, yet she needed no explanation to understand what her brother intended. Her fingers tightened around the fabric of her dress, her heart beating faster with each passing moment.
She wished to move.
To step forward.
To stop him.
But her feet refused her.
A strange fear held her in place.
Still… she gathered what courage she could and forced herself to take a single step forward.
---
At that very moment, Lucian's gaze—steady until now—fell downward.
Within himself, he yielded.
There is no path left…
I cannot control this. I cannot fight him… because I am weak… and the weak must always bow.
I should apologise… but—
The thought shattered.
Cassian's hand shot forward, gripping Lucian's hair, forcing his head upward with a violent motion.
Lucian's lips parted slightly.
He was about to speak.
About to yield.
But in that instant—
Something within him did not break.
It resisted.
A quiet defiance rose where surrender had been.
He could not apologise.
Not now.
Not like this.
His teeth clenched, yet the weight of his weakness pressed even deeper upon him, tightening around his chest like an unseen chain.
At that very moment, from the far end of the gallery, a figure emerged—advancing slowly, her presence heralded first not by form, but by shadow. That shadow stretched long across the stone, falling over both Lucian and Cassian, swallowing them in its reach.
The instant it touched him, Cassian's focus snapped away from Lucian.
His eyes narrowed.
A pressure—strange, suffocating, immense—settled upon him.
Dark Omiyash.
His gaze lifted at once toward the source of that presence. Though his hand still gripped Lucian's hair, his attention had already shifted entirely.
---
Lucian, meanwhile, was fading.
His vision blurred, the world before him slipping in and out of clarity. The force of Cassian's grip had left him barely conscious; each breath came heavy, strained, as though his own body resisted him.
---
Cassian looked ahead—
And saw her.
A woman stood at a distance, clad in a uniform of black and deep crimson—its design reminiscent of a war commander's attire, structured, severe, unmistakably martial. Crimson ribbons adorned her form, each one a silent testament to battles fought… and victories claimed.
She began to walk forward.
With every step, her presence grew heavier.
Her face came into view—
Hair as dark as the void itself, long and unbound… and her eyes—
Abyssal.
Endless.
The mere act of meeting them sent a tremor through Cassian's very being.
She raised her hand.
Her palm bore countless scars—so many that they defied counting. These were no ordinary wounds, but marks of remembrance… each one a fragment of a fallen soldier, carried forward by the one who had survived them all.
As that hand extended toward him, the fear within Cassian surged without restraint.
And then—
His body reacted before his mind could command it.
He released Lucian at once and leapt backward, creating distance in a single motion. His hand moved instinctively to the hilt of his sword—but though he grasped it, he could not draw it free.
His face had grown pale, damp with sweat.
And in his eyes—
Fear.
Unmistakable.
---
Freed from the grip, Lucian collapsed to the ground.
He drew in deep, ragged breaths, clutching at his chest as though the pain still lingered, refusing to loosen its hold. For a moment, he remained there—then, gathering what strength he could, he forced himself upright, using the railing for support.
His vision wavered.
Yet even through the haze—
He recognized her.
Valeria…
The name echoed within his mind.
The Supreme Commander of the Ravencrest Army.
He coughed, steadying himself with effort, and spoke in a strained, unsteady voice—
"You… what brings you here… sister…?"
---
Valeria did not answer.
Her gaze shifted past him—settling upon Cassian, who stood before her, rigid, guarded, his hand still resting upon the hilt of his sheathed blade.
Her eyes darkened further.
Her Omiyash flowed outward, unseen yet undeniable—like wind… yet carrying a weight so immense that even the air seemed to grow heavy beneath it.
---
Cassian clenched his teeth.
So… this is her…
The first daughter of King Alaric… Valeria Ravencrest.
He had heard of her.
Many had.
Yet few had ever seen her.
She was a figure of distance and dread—one who dwelled far from courts and ceremonies, in places whispered of in fear… Death Mountain… Hell Valley… where she waged war against monsters and enemies alike.
But why is she here…? And why now…?
His hand trembled.
He understood well enough—
If she wished it…
He would not survive even a single breath.
---
Then her voice came.
Cold.
Heavy.
Unyielding as stone.
"Lucian."
She did not look at him as she spoke.
"I have told you before… you must measure your words. It would seem you have yet to learn even that."
A brief pause followed.
"Now answer me—what discourtesy have you shown Prince Cassian Valerius?"
Her tone did not soften.
"Do you even comprehend… the nature of our relations with the Valerius Kingdom?"
---
Cassian froze.
For a moment, he did not understand what he had heard.
"What…?" the word escaped him, unbidden.
His thoughts raced.
She… rebukes her own brother?
Only moments ago, he had been certain—utterly certain—that his end had come.
And now—
The tide had shifted.
Slowly… the fear within him began to recede.
In its place—
A rising arrogance.
A crooked smile spread across his lips.
He let his body relax, the tension leaving him as confidence returned.
So… she knows who I am… and the power of my kingdom…
That is why she dares not oppose me.
Of course… why would she? To offend Valerius would be folly—even for Ravencrest.
And if she believes her brother to be at fault…
Then I would be a fool not to make use of it.
---
With that thought, Cassian straightened, regaining the bearing of a noble heir. He stepped forward with composed confidence, extending one hand, his expression shifting into one of refined courtesy.
"Princess Valeria," he said with a measured bow of his head, "I am most relieved by your arrival. Prince Lucian has not only shown discourtesy toward me… but has also slighted King Wilhelm Dravenor himself."
He paused briefly, clearing his throat before continuing.
"As the heir to the Valerius Kingdom… and in consideration of the cordial ties between our houses, I would not presume to pass judgment upon him myself."
His tone remained calm.
Polished.
"But I trust… that you, in your wisdom, will see this matter clearly… and deliver to Prince Lucian the correction his conduct warrants."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"For surely… as one of Ravencrest—"
He had not even finished speaking—When it happened.
Without warning, Dark Omiyash surged toward him like a bolt of living lightning—so swift, so absolute, that Cassian had no time to react.
In the very next instant—
Something was taken from him.
His vitality.
It was as though his life itself had been seized and torn away.
His body grew impossibly heavy, and he collapsed at once, falling to his knees upon the cold stone. His limbs trembled beneath him as strength abandoned him entirely. His hands—his face—began to wither before his own eyes. His skin shrank and tightened, as though time itself had been forced upon him at an unnatural pace.
A sharp, splintering sound echoed—
The faint cracking of bone.
It rang within his ears, each brittle fracture feeding the terror rising within him.
Pain followed.
Not in a single place—
But everywhere.
His joints strained as though pulled apart, his veins burned as if fire coursed through them, and his skin felt dry—fragile—ready to break beneath even the slightest touch.
He tried to lift his head.
He could not.
His body no longer obeyed him.
A trembling voice forced its way from his lips—
"W-what… are you… doing… Princess Valeria…? Do you even… know… what you are—"
The words never reached completion.
Valeria looked down at him.
There was no anger in her gaze.
No cruelty.
Only a cold, immovable stillness.
When she spoke, her voice carried greater weight than before—each word falling with quiet inevitability.
"In war," she said, slow and precise, "we leave behind those we once called our own… those we cared for… and we do not grieve."
A pause.
"Because we know… we have done nothing wrong. It was their duty to fall."
Her gaze deepened.
"And in the same manner…"
"Valerius Kingdom… is no more to us than a formation of soldiers."
Her tone did not rise.
Yet its meaning grew heavier.
"Men who may be abandoned to death… or granted a punishment far more enduring than death itself—should they err."
Another pause.
"Because… that too… is their duty."
Then, as though the matter held no further weight—
She turned.
Calm.
Unhurried.
"I shall regard this… as nothing more than a quarrel between children."
She took a few steps forward.
Then stopped.
Without turning back, she spoke once more—
"Remember this…"
Her voice, though quiet, seemed to cut through the air itself.
"There is a difference between the ravens that rule the heavens… and the reindeer that exist only to be hunted upon the earth."