The days since Rythe's departure had passed in a carefully measured stillness—too still for a palace as vast and vicious as this.
In the East Tower, where political undercurrents flowed sharper than any sword, Second Prince Kael stood before the window of his chamber, arms clasped behind his back. From this high vantage, he could see the practice fields Rythe once dominated with wordless command. Empty now, except for the occasional knight in idle drills.
The silence pleased him.
Behind him, in the shadowed alcove, sat Lord Halric—father of the Omega Kael now eyed like a blade waiting to be drawn.
"I was surprised when you agreed to this meeting," Kael said without turning. "Given your son's... situation."
"I serve the empire," Halric answered flatly. "Even if my blood has disgraced me."
Kael turned slowly, a wry smile tugging at his mouth. "He has become... useful. Too close to Rythe. Too silent, too invisible. Perfect leverage."
Halric's face remained impassive, but his fingers twitched. "He has no affection for me. He will not be easily swayed."
"We don't need him to be swayed," Kael said smoothly, stepping toward the older man. "We need him to be... exposed."
Halric arched a brow.
"You know as well as I do that the court adores Rythe for his efficiency, his untouchability," Kael said. "Let's see how untouchable he seems with rumors of illicit, unsanctioned relations with a former criminal Omega lingering over him."
"You mean to provoke scandal," Harlic said.
Kael's eyes gleamed. "I mean to show the Emperor that Rythe's judgment is compromised. If the Omega cracks, it makes Rythe weak. If the Omega stays silent, it makes Rythe cold. Either way... I win."
Halric did not smile, but he did not protest. "And the Emperor?"
"I've already sown the seeds. He only needs a small push."
Days Later – The Throne Chamber
Emperor Valien sat languidly on the ivory throne, listening with half interest as Kael outlined his idea.
"It is not punishment," Kael said carefully. "Merely... a test. To ensure that those closest to Rythe serve the empire first—and not just his personal interests."
The Emperor's face revealed little. "And how do you propose to test this... loyalty?"
"There is a dungeon," Kael said smoothly. "One we haven't used since the rebellion. Isolated. Harsh. Let him stay there. Questioned. Stripped of protection and familiarity. If he is loyal, he will not break."
"And if he does?"
"Then he was never worthy of Rythe's protection."
The Emperor sat back, drumming his fingers against the lion-carved armrest. "He was bound to a tree, wasn't he?"
Kael smirked. "Yes, Your Majesty. And still remained. I doubt a little stone and solitude will be worse."
A long pause.
Then a nod.
"Do it."
They came for Aurean at dusk, just as the palace bells rang for the evening hour.
He didn't fight them.
He didn't ask why.
Blindfolded and silent, he was led through twisting corridors far beneath the palace—a level even the hounds had never roamed.
The air stank of mildew, and the chains clinked like old memories as he was fastened to the wall of a narrow cell. No light, save the torch briefly shown to see his face.
And so began the days of isolation.
The interrogators asked him nothing clear—just riddled questions designed to confuse, disarm, and undo.
They wanted names.
They wanted motives.
They wanted confession.
Confession to a bond with Rythe. Confession to seduction, to plotting, to control.
Every time they failed, they escalated.
Sleep deprivation.
Torture.
The scent of rut burned into the walls, taunting him with memories.
They waited for Aurean to scream. To cry. To beg.
He did not.
He only said, "I serve the Crown."
And then: "I serve Prince Rythe."
Again. Again. Again.
Kael smiled when he read the latest report.
Still silent. Still loyal.
But bruised. Diminished. Soon to crack.
"He will not last much longer," Halric said, standing beside him.
"Then Rythe returns to a broken toy," Kael replied. "Let him explain that to the court."
They both looked toward the horizon.
Rythe and Calien were expected in three days.
Three days left to finish this game.
Three days before everything changed.
The wind that swept through the palace stables that morning carried no scent of joy.
Bristle lifted his great black head and sniffed the air, a low growl curling in his throat. Fen, ever the quieter of the pair, pressed his nose to the cobbled stones, uneasy.
They had waited at the gates for days, restless since the day Aurean vanished from their shared quarters. Lareth had asked after him discreetly, but the servants only shook their heads or whispered vague excuses—"assigned elsewhere", "summoned for duty", "resting".
But the hounds knew better.
And so did Lareth.
He stood now at the edge of the practice yard, arms crossed tightly over his chest as he watched the early drills. His eyes were sharp, scanning not for soldiers, but for familiar black hair, a bowed figure, someone who moved with quiet precision and endured with unnatural patience.
There was no sign of Aurean. It has been three months Calien and Rythe left and they are expected back anytime from now, he needs to find Aurean and fast.
Something had gone terribly wrong.
The horns sounded at dusk, echoing across the high towers.
The mission was complete. The Emperor's banner was carried high.
Prince Rythe rode at the head, his usual stoicism intact—but Calien rode at his side, his posture relaxed and eyes scanning eagerly for the crowd's reception.
Lareth was waiting.
He fell into step as soon as Rythe dismounted, and Mael and Varnak—who had refused to leave the gate—pressed eagerly toward their master, only to pause with a confused whine, sniffing Rythe and then behind him. They whined louder when Aurean was nowhere to be found.
Lareth's expression didn't shift.
But Rythe noticed.
"What is it?" he asked quietly, handing off the reins.
Lareth hesitated. Then bowed. "Forgive me, Highness. A matter best discussed in private."
Calien narrowed his eyes but said nothing as Rythe followed Lareth away from the courtyard, into the inner halls.
In the Prince's War Room
The door closed behind them with a weight that pressed against Rythe's chest.
Lareth didn't waste time.
"He's gone."
Rythe blinked. "What?"
"Aurean. A month after your departure, he vanished. I asked after him. I searched. I was told to leave it be."
Rythe's jaw tightened. "On whose order?"
Lareth's silence said enough.
Rythe turned sharply. "Where is he?"
"I've found nothing official. But I heard whispers, old guards talking about the lower dungeons—the ones sealed since the rebellion. I believe he's down there. I believe Kael had something to do with it. And… his father."
The silence that followed cracked with tension.
Rythe's voice, when it came, was cold steel.
"And no one thought to inform me."
"They made sure you wouldn't know."
The hounds scratched at the door then—low growls deep in their throats.
Rythe turned toward it, then back to Lareth. "Get me a torch. We're going down there. Now."