The next morning, the Throne Room was scrubbed clean of dust, though the air still felt heavy with the ghosts of the fallen princes. Livius sat on the steps of the throne, refusing to sit on the chair itself until his eighteenth birthday celebrations were officially concluded. He wore a high-collared tunic of midnight blue, the Silver Dragon's influence making him look even more ethereal and dangerous than before.
The doors swung open, and the envoy from the Eastern Khaganate stepped forward. He was a tall, lean man with sun-darkened skin and eyes that moved like a snake's. Beside him stood a girl veiled in sheer silk, carrying a golden birdcage. Inside the cage sat a rose that glowed with a sickeningly beautiful crimson light.
"Great King of the West," the envoy bowed, his voice a smooth, practiced silk. "I am General Batu of the Khaganate. We heard of the 'Ghost Prince' who reclaimed his nest. My master, the Great Khan, sends his congratulations and this humble token of our desire for a border without blood."
The girl stepped forward, her movements graceful and robotic. She set the birdcage at Livius's feet. The rose inside pulse-glowed, its petals shifting like liquid fire.
"The Ever-Burning Rose," Batu continued. "It draws the ambient mana from the air and purifies it, feeding the land and the ruler. A gift for a King who has seen too much darkness."
Livius stared at the rose. With his new Silver sight, he didn't see a flower. He saw a web of thorny, black mana filaments reaching out from the petals, sniffing the air for a host. It wasn't purifying the mana; it was searching for a powerful source to drain. And in this room, there was no greater source than the boy sitting on the steps.
"It's beautiful," Livius said, his voice devoid of emotion. He stood and walked toward the cage.
Cian, standing to the right, shifted his weight, his hand hovering near the hidden dagger in his belt. He saw the way the envoy's eyes flickered with a hidden greed.
"But tell me, General," Livius continued, his hand hovering just inches from the golden bars. "Does the Khan always send gifts that require the blood of a True Dragon to stay alive? Or is this a special honor just for me?"
Batu's smile didn't falter, but his pupils dilated. "I do not understand, Your Majesty. It is a flower of life."
"It is a 'Soul-Eater's Thorn,'" Livius corrected, his voice dropping an octave, resonating with a draconic power that made the golden birdcage vibrate. "It is designed to bond with a high-mana signature, slowly draining the host's life-force to bloom. In a year, I would be a withered husk, and this rose would be the size of a tree, fueling your Khan's armies with my stolen divinity."
Livius grabbed the cage. The crimson rose flared, its thorns lashing out to pierce his skin. But the moment the thorns touched his palm, they didn't draw blood. They froze.
A frost so intense it turned the gold to brittle glass spread from Livius's hand. The "Ever-Burning Rose" shrieked—a high-pitched, botanical scream that echoed through the hall—as it was encased in a block of Silver Dragon ice.
"Cian," Livius said, tossing the frozen block back at the General's feet, where it shattered into a thousand jagged red shards. "Record this. The Khaganate has attempted to assassinate the Crown under the guise of diplomacy. The 'Peace' they sought is now a 'Debt.'"
Batu drew a hidden curved blade, his face twisting into a mask of rage. "You arrogant brat! You think because you sank a few wooden ships, you can defy the Steppes?"
He lunged, but he never reached Livius.
Cian didn't even move. From the shadows of the pillars, three Web-Walkers dropped down, their obsidian daggers finding the gaps in Batu's armor with surgical precision. The General fell to his knees, his life-blood staining the marble floor.
"Clean this up," Livius commanded, not even looking at the dying man. "And send the girl back to the Khan. But first, Cian... find out if she's a princess or a puppet. If she's a puppet, cut her strings. If she's a princess... we have a new hostage."