"You're quite arrogant for your age," King Aldric said coldly, staring down at Nyx like he was a stain on the marble—one not worth scraping off.
Nyx didn't flinch. "Didn't grow up learning to lick boots, Your Highness," he replied, voice calm, sharp, and dangerously casual. "Respect's earned. Not inherited."
The pause between them cracked like thunder.
Aldric's eyes narrowed, but it wasn't Nyx he focused on—it was Samantha. Still standing beside him, hands clasped tightly, eyes glued to the floor. Her lips didn't move, but the faint tremble in her fingers betrayed what her silence tried to hide.
"I've arranged everything," Aldric said, voice clipped. "Return to the palace. Your little rebellion is over. It's time you fulfilled your duty to the crown."
Duty. As if she were a sword to be sheathed when convenient.
"She's not an object," Nyx snapped, stepping forward. "She's with me. Where she chooses to be. No one—not even a king—gets to drag her away like some broken heirloom."
Aldric turned, eyes burning with fury. "Do you honestly believe you can defy royal authority? She is my daughter. Her purpose is to serve the realm. And I will decide what that entails."
He raised his hand.
"GUARDS! Arrest this insolent brat—and his traitorous companions!"
The doors exploded open.
Steel boots. Cold metal. Dozens of royal guards stormed in like a flood. Ruby and Valon were seized in a heartbeat—barely able to resist.
But as they lunged at Nyx—
SHNK. THUD. THUD. THUD.
Three heads hit the marble floor before anyone could even scream.
Blood painted the white stone red.
Nyx stood at the center of it all, dagger in hand, its edge gleaming with death. His stance was relaxed. His eyes? Anything but. They burned with a quiet, ancient fury. Something not of this world.
"You really thought," he said, low and deadly, "you could order me around like some lapdog?"
His voice wasn't loud.
But it felt like the world stopped to listen.
Valon stared, paralyzed. Ruby's breath hitched. Leon stumbled backward and collapsed, hands shaking, mouth dry, staring at the corpses as if he'd never seen death before.
Another wave arrived—heavier footsteps. Armored titans.
The King's personal guard.
Black steel. Grim faces. Blades drawn—not just at Nyx, but at Samantha too.
That was when the temperature in the room dropped.
Nyx's aura surged, [Origin] crackling around him like a tempest caged inside flesh. His grip on Samantha's hand tightened—protective, steady, unyielding.
"You dare point a blade at her?" he said, voice now guttural. "Touch her... and I'll bury this whole palace beneath your bones."
Aldric raised his chin. "You're a fool. You've drawn blood in the royal court. You've committed treason. I should have your head taken off your shoulders—now."
Nyx tilted his head back and laughed. But it wasn't humor—it was something unhinged, primal.
"You think titles make you gods?" he asked, stepping closer. "You think being a father means ownership?"
Then, low and dangerous: "What right do you even have to call yourself a father, Aldric?"
Aldric's expression cracked—just a flicker—but enough.
"And if you want to try executing me..." Nyx smiled, wild and cold. "Then try. But I promise—before your blade even rises, I'll turn your throne, your guards, your city into ash."
The silence was suffocating.
And then— A breath.
A flicker. A ripple in the air, like the world itself took a step back.
Crimson mist bled into the chamber from a far corner, spreading like smoke from a cursed pyre.
And from it—Sofie emerged.
The Elf. The Elementalist. The one whispered about behind locked doors.
She walked softly, but the air itself bent around her. The temperature dipped into frostbite.
Reality tensed.
Aldric's breath caught in his throat.
His eyes widened—hands trembling. The fear in his chest was immediate, instinctive. Ancient.
"…Sofie th—" he choked.
She didn't answer. She didn't need to.
Her gaze flicked to him—impassive, mildly amused. Like watching a lizard try to threaten a lion.
Then her eyes met Nyx's.
And she smiled. Nyx gave a nod. Calm. Controlled.
Then turned to Samantha, laced his fingers with hers, and began walking away.
No parting glare. No farewell. Just silence. Valon and Ruby followed, dazed, wordless. But before they could cross the chamber doors, Nyx stopped.
He didn't turn around. He just spoke. No anger. No venom. Just iron.
"If the truth about Rowan Vaelthorn isn't made public before your piss-stained son puts on that crown," Nyx said, "I'll give this kingdom a bloodbath that makes the war from four hundred years ago look like a schoolyard fight."
Inside, Aldric didn't speak. Couldn't. His face—stone. But his hand trembled slightly.
And Sofie? Her eyes widened. Her lips parted.
'The ancient war...'
That war had been buried. Locked away in records only the highest rulers of each race were allowed to know.
Only a handful alive remembered what truly happened. And now—a boy knew it.
---
The group left the palace in silence. No guards followed. No words exchanged.
Just shadows stretched behind them—long, quiet, and heavy.
By the time they returned to the manor, the tension hadn't lifted. If anything, it had settled deeper. Valon and Ruby lingered near the door, their expressions grim. Neither had spoken a word since the confrontation, and it was clear they were both still processing what had just happened. Especially Samantha.
She hadn't lifted her head since the throne room. Still trembling. Still trapped in that moment.
Nyx didn't say anything. Just gave Valon a look—a silent instruction. Valon understood immediately.
"Come on," he muttered to Ruby, his voice hoarse. "Let's give them some space."
Ruby hesitated, looking at Samantha, then Nyx. She nodded and followed Valon, leaving without a word. As soon as they were gone—Samantha grabbed Nyx's wrist.
And dragged him upstairs. She didn't speak. Didn't look at him. Just pulled. Up. Up. Until they reached the rooftop, where the wind cut sharper and the stars loomed too far to touch.
There, beneath the sky's indifference, she finally stopped. Nyx stood beside her, saying nothing. Just… there. He didn't press. He didn't comfort.
He waited. And then—Samantha moved.
She threw her arms around him. Hugged him tight. Buried her face in his chest. And shattered.
"It hurts," she whispered, voice cracking like dry glass. "It hurts so much, Nyx…"
Her words broke apart between sobs, choking on years she hadn't allowed herself to cry. Nyx didn't speak.
He held her. Tighter.
"I—I was so scared… when Mother died," she continued, her voice trembling with raw, unfiltered grief. "I didn't know what to do. I didn't even understand it. One day she was there, and the next…"
She gasped, like the memory itself was choking her.
"And Father… he didn't even hold me. He just looked at me. Like I killed her. Like I was a mistake he couldn't erase."
Nyx's hands curled into fists behind her back.
"I tried to be useful. I tried to be strong. Cold. Perfect. Everything he wanted," she cried, her shoulders shaking. "But he never saw me. Just some broken piece he couldn't mold the way he wanted."
"I only had him, Nyx… I had no one else… and even he—he started looking at me like I was a curse."
She clutched at him tighter, like letting go meant falling apart completely. Nyx said nothing.
He just stood there, heart raging, face blank, arms wrapped around the only girl who ever understood what it meant to be unwanted by blood.
And in that quiet rooftop, under the sky that had seen empires rise and fall—
Nyx held her. He didn't promise it would be okay. He didn't lie.
He just stayed.
Until her sobs slowed. Until the wind no longer stung. Until the past, for a moment, stopped screaming.