Later that evening, after the formalities ended, Calyra requested a private moment with Serenil in the palace gardens. Moonlight lit the marble paths as they strolled, accompanied only by silent guards in black cloaks.
"I never hated you," Calyra said abruptly.
Serenil looked up at her.
"You thought I did?" he asked calmly.
She gave a soft snort. "You're smarter than the others think. You probably already know how succession works in this kingdom."
Serenil nodded. "Firstborn leads. Secondborn supports. Thirdborn dies in a hunting accident."
She actually laughed. "You've read the family history, I see."
A pause.
Then, she leaned closer, lowering her voice.
"I'm not here to kill you, Serenil. If anything, I'm curious to see what kind of man you'll become. Father guards you like a secret blade. I've seen that kind of paranoia before."
Serenil said nothing. But he could feel the gears turning in her mind. She was testing him, prodding, trying to measure the shape of the weapon he was becoming.
"Do you love Father?" she asked suddenly.
"No," Serenil answered without hesitation. "But I don't hate him either. He is… necessary."
Calyra blinked. For a second, she looked genuinely surprised. Then she laughed.
"Spoken like a king already."
She offered him a hand.
"Let's not be enemies, little brother. Not yet."
Serenil took it. "I don't make enemies unless I mean to kill them."
Their hands parted in the darkness, but the alliance—however fragile—was formed.
Behind them, Kareth watched silently, like a shadow forged from steel.
And within Serenil's soul, Voidrender hummed with quiet anticipation.
The royal game had begun.