[Thalryn Empire — House Veyrhold — The Next Morning]

Snow-covered mountains stretched endlessly beyond the windows of House Veyrhold. The morning winds howled through the cliffs, and inside the duke’s study, silence ruled.

Duke Aren sat behind his desk; another black imperial letter from Zahryssar rested nearby, unopened and ignored because lately every letter carried the same threat, the same demand, and the same arrogance.

Surrender yourself. Return my consort. Obey the Malik.

CRACK.

The wooden armrest groaned beneath Aren’s grip because...days. Too many days had passed. His son remained missing. Zeramet remained missing, and Slyvarakh grew bolder with every letter.

Then suddenly—

KNOCK.

KNOCK.

KNOCK.

The study doors opened, and immediately a familiar, peeking woman strolled inside smiling bright and completely ignoring the tension filling the room.

Zyvera. The thief queen and the most troublesome ally Duke Aren had ever encountered. "Hello...!!"

Aren stared. "...Please tell me you have news."

Zyrvera stepped inside and nodded thoughtfully, then smiled. A dangerous and victorious smile, a smile that immediately made Duke Aren sit straighter because he recognized it. That was the smile she wore whenever she succeeded.

Then casually she tossed a folded letter onto the desk and sat on the desk, moving her legs, saying, "You’ll definitely reward me with a high amount."

FLAP.

The paper landed directly before him. Duke Aren immediately picked it up; his eyes scanned the starting contents once and twice.

Then a third time because for several moments he genuinely thought he had read it wrong. He didn’t read further; he just read, ’Malika has been found.’

Then suddenly he stood. SO FAST the chair nearly fell backward and made Zyvera flinch as she said, "That scared me."

"What?" His voice cracked, actually cracked. Something nobody inside House Veyrhold had witnessed in years.

Zyvera stole pastry from the duke’s table, completely unbothered, and then she answered. "I found him, just as I promised."

Duke Aren froze; his heartbeat quickened as Zyvera continued. "The information came from one of my people near the western trade routes."

She leaned back, crossing her legs and smiling. "Your son is alive."

The words struck harder than any weapon because for the first time in weeks hope appeared, a real hope. Not assumptions, not theories, but a hope.

Aren’s fingers tightened around the letter as his name escaped from his lips quietly, almost like a prayer.

"...Levin, my son." Then immediately he asked, "Where?"

Zyrvera’s grin widened. "Oh, that isn’t the best part."

Silence, then she pointed toward the letter. "Keep reading."

Aren’s eyes moved downward, and suddenly his expression changed in shock, disbelief, and relief. Then pure astonishment, because another name appeared. A name that should have belonged to the dead and a name that should not exist.

’Malik Zeramet is alive.’

Duke Aren stared, then stared harder, and he smiled softly, mumbling, "I knew...he was still alive."

Zyrvera shrugged. "I thought so too, because apparently death couldn’t tolerate him either."

For the first time in days, a small laugh escaped Duke Aren, a real brief and relieved one.

Then immediately Aren stepped around the desk. "I need to reach out to my son immediately."

Zyrvera blinked in shock, asking, "Do you know what you’re saying, Duke? The wolves don’t allow any other clan to enter their territory unless they specifically request it, and your son is in their territory. Soldiers, wolves may attack you."

"I don’t care; I can even battle wolves for Levin, but I won’t allow my son and my son-in-law to remain in foreign territory for very long. I’ll bring them home, and we’ll figure out how to solve whatever problems exist."

Zyvera went silent because she didn’t expect that answer and just mumbled, "Humans are really foolish."

Then suddenly—

KNOCK.

KNOCK.

KNOCK.

The study doors opened violently. Immediately both turned; the butler stood there, breathing heavily, face pale, and the man looked genuinely alarmed.

"My Lord Duke."

Aren frowned. "What happened?"

The butler swallowed hard and then spoke. "The Imperial Palace has sent an urgent summons."

Silence, and immediately Aren’s expression darkened, and the butler continued. "...His Majesty requests your immediate presence."

The room became cold, very cold, because everyone knew what that meant. The Emperor never summoned people urgently unless something was terribly wrong or a war was about to begin.

Far away in Zahryssar, Slyvarakh’s decree had already begun spreading across kingdoms, and neither Duke Aren nor Zyrvera yet knew that Thalryn’s future was about to be decided.

***

[Zahryssar — House Karzath — Late Afternoon]

The golden desert winds moved softly through House Karzath. Sunlight poured across sandstone pillars. Servants moved quietly through the estate, and for the first time in many days, the atmosphere felt strangely peaceful.

Then—

THUD.

THUD.

THUD.

The sound of galloping hooves echoed through the courtyard. Immediately a servant rushed through the halls.

"My Lady!" The young maid nearly tripped over her own feet.

Lady Arinaya looked up from the document she had been reading; the maid bowed quickly. "Captain Ravehan has returned."

Silence.

Then slowly a smile appeared, small, gentle, and relieved because finally one of her worries had ended.

Then Arinaya rose from her chair. "Prepare refreshments."

The servants immediately bowed. "At once, my lady."

Arinaya made her way downstairs; the silk of her robes brushed softly against the marble steps, and as she entered the grand hall, she immediately saw him.

Standing near the entrance, dust still covered his travel cloak; his horse had barely stopped running. Yet despite his exhausted appearance, he looked far better than a man recently imprisoned within the Imperial Palace for being Malika’s personal knight.

Immediately, Ravehan knelt, placing a fist over his chest. "Greetings, my Lady. I have returned."

Arinaya’s smile softened, and she sighed. "Captain Ravehan, welcome back."

The captain blinked. Arinaya continued. "The Malik has finally released you, and...I was waiting for you..."

Ravehan immediately smiled, and their gaze locked for a second, and maids chuckled seeing the soft love in the air.

"It is all thanks to you, my lady." Ravehan said and continued, "I couldn’t have not come when you did your best to get me back."

Arinaya frowned. "What do you mean?"

Ravehan smiled softly, looking at her with a gentle gaze. "I know High Ensi must have written a letter, and you must have insisted he do so."

Silence.

Immediately, Arinaya paused in shock, saying, "What?"

Ravehan looked equally confused. "I am talking about the letter, the one demanding my return."

Arinaya slowly furrowed her brows. "...High Ensi truly sent one? I thought he was just babbling."

Then a voice interrupted.

"I thought I made myself quite clear."

Everyone turned, and immediately standing beside the staircase, leaning lazily against the railing, stood Rakhane, arms crossed and smirking. Looking entirely too pleased with himself.

Arinaya stared. "Did you actually send a letter?"

Rakhane raised an eyebrow, then looked genuinely offended. "...Did you think I was joking, dear sister?"

Silence, an absolutely shocking silence. Even the servants looked confused because this was unusual...very unusual.

Rakhane helping someone? Voluntarily? Without demanding something in return?

The world was truly ending.

Arinaya continued staring, and then finally she nodded. "...You have done well."

Rakhane immediately froze, completely because of praise; actual praise from Lady Arinaya was rarer than rain in the desert.

The servants looked shocked; one maid nearly dropped a tray, another visibly crossed herself. Clearly believing some divine miracle had occurred.

Then suddenly Rakhane coughed awkwardly and looked away. "...Naturally. I am an exceptional brother."

Immediately, Arinaya rolled her eyes. Ravehan was confused as hell...and looked between two siblings who were suddenly showing...their siblings affection?

Then just as Arinaya held Ravehan’s hands, saying, "I shall leave."

But before she turned to leave, Rakhane’s voice echoed, stopping him. "Captain Ravehan."

And now High Ensi looks way colder, and that made him even more terrifying. Ravehan immediately bowed, asking, "Yes, my lord."

Rakhane turned towards his office chamber as his gaze sharpened, saying, "I require your report; I need every detail, everything that happened inside the Imperial Palace."

The entire hall fell silent. Ravehan glanced toward Arinaya, and Arinaya glanced toward Ravehan; neither knew what to say because this was strange...very strange.

Then finally Ravehan bowed. "As you command."

High Ensi nodded once. "Come to my office."

Then he turned and walked away, leaving behind absolute confusion; the maids immediately gathered together like desert birds spotting something suspicious.

One maid whispered, "...What is wrong with High Ensi these days?"

Another nodded quickly. "He has become unusually calm."

A third maid lowered her voice further. "That is exactly what worries me."

Silence.

Then she added, "What if he has been possessed?"

"Maybe he just changed..." another maid said.

Immediately the other maids gasped. Arinaya furrowed because somehow that theory did not sound entirely impossible. Then, almost to herself, she murmured:

"...Did he truly change?"

Silence answered her, but somehow deep inside, Lady Arinaya felt something was moving beneath the surface, something she could not yet see, and that feeling worried her far more than before.

***

[Zahryssar —Silthara Palace—Late Afternoon]

The council meeting had finally ended, arguments, discussions, threats, and endless talks about war. The heavy bronze doors of the council chamber opened.

One by one the council members departed. Their robes swept across polished sandstone floors. Their voices gradually faded.

Until only silence remained and High Mage Arkhazunn stepped outside. The afternoon sun hung low above Zahryssar; golden light poured through the palace arches, painting everything in amber, ancient, beautiful, and timeless.

Then Arkhazunn paused immediately because someone stood at the end of the corridor, someone familiar and someone he had somehow started noticing far too often.

Varesh.

Standing before the statue of Malika Ninsara. The afternoon light spilled through the palace windows, and somehow it landed perfectly upon Varesh.

Upon dark hair, upon bronze skin, and upon sharp features, like sunlight itself had become fascinated and like the heavens had stopped to admire him.

And for a brief moment Arkhazunn forgot to move.

Forgot to breathe, counsel, the war. Forgot everything because suddenly he remembered another night.

A different and quieter night. The night he had collapsed from the betrayal of Naburash, the night he was at Varesh’s chamber, wrapped in blankets, protected and safe.

And then those eyes.

Varesh’s eyes were looking at him not as an imperial captain but with something else. Something Arkhazunn had not understood. Something he still did not understand.

Concern, warmth, and something deeper. Something that lingered even now. Then slowly Arkhazunn began walking towards him.

Varesh remained unaware, his gaze fixed upon Malika Ninsara’s statue lost in thought. Until finally he sensed someone approaching.

Immediately he turned, and his eyes widened slightly. "High Mage."

Varesh bowed respectfully, one hand crossing over his chest, and Arkhazunn simply stared for longer than necessary.

Long enough for Varesh to become confused.

Then finally the commander spoke. "...Did the council agree on the attack on Thalryn? Did they approve it?"

Silence.

Because Arkhazunn had not heard a single word, not one. His thoughts remained somewhere else entirely, somewhere dangerously close to the man standing before him at his eyes, lost in his gaze or drowned in his gaze.

Varesh frowned slightly. "...High Mage?"

The second call finally reached him. Arkhazunn blinked, then slowly his eyes drifted toward the statue of Malika Ninsara.

And suddenly a strange question escaped him. A question he had never asked before, a question he did not even realize he wanted answered.

Then, quietly, almost absentmindedly, he asked, "...Captain."

"Yes, High Mage?"

The desert winds moved softly through the corridor, golden sunlight danced across ancient stone and then Arkhazunn looked directly into Varesh’s eyes and asked, "...Do you think two Alphas can be together?"

Silence, an absolute silence, and everything stopped. The wind, the corridor, and the world itself.

Varesh froze completely. His heartbeat stopped. His breathing stopped. His thoughts stopped because among all the questions he expected, among all the conversations he imagined, and among all the possibilities he had dreamed about—that was not one of them.

His eyes widened in shock and disbelief.

Arkhazunn simply stared, waiting completely unaware that the question he had casually asked had just shaken someone’s entire world.

And for the first time in years Varesh did not know how to answer.