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The King's Castle shimmered like a mirage under a starlit sky.
Chandeliers blazed overhead, casting golden halos across polished marble floors. The air carried the rich scent of roast boar, citrus, and spiced wine, mingling with the lilting rhythm of lutes and bursts of laughter. Nobles twirled in waves of silk and velvet, their movements effortless, rehearsed, beautiful.
It was the kind of night history books would lie about—too perfect to be real.
Victor Ashworth stood at the heart of it, and for once, he didn't question if he belonged. His hand rested warmly around Sara's, her head leaning lightly against his shoulder. Guests from distant lands—some with strange accents, others with eyes that hinted at secrets—brushed past, their presence a quiet reminder of a world far larger than this ballroom.
"You've devoured three slices already," Sara murmured, her voice soft against his collar. "If you get sick, I'm leaving you in a bush."
Victor chuckled, his gaze drifting across the room. *Gods, how he loved her laugh.* It was the sound of everything right in the world, a tether to peace he rarely felt. For the first time in years, the weight of his training and the expectations tied to his lineage faded into the background. Here, in this moment, he was just Victor—nothing more, nothing less. Magic hummed faintly in the air, a subtle pulse he'd grown used to, though tonight it felt… different.
He let his eyes wander.
His father, Varian Ashworth, stood near the dais, his laugh booming across the chamber. Towering. Solid. The kind of man who made the earth feel small. Beside him, Selina—grace wrapped in armor—rested a hand on his arm, her eyes softening in a rare, unguarded moment. Victor caught her gaze across the room. She smiled, a quiet warmth in it, and for a heartbeat, the world felt whole.
*That smile had seen him through sickness and sorrow,* he thought, a pang of gratitude tightening his chest. He grinned back, brushing a hand through his hair the way she always teased him about.
Even Professor Erwin was here, lingering near a pillar, his usual stone-faced expression softened by the festivities. Victor met his eyes, and the old man gave a slight nod—approval, perhaps, or pride. It was a small gesture, but it steadied Victor somehow.
He exhaled, letting the warmth of the room settle into his bones. *I don't deserve this peace,* he thought. *But tonight, I'll take it.*
A faint tremor rippled through the floor, so subtle he almost missed it. Victor frowned, glancing down at the marble beneath his feet. *Was that real?* The music played on, the dancers oblivious. He shook his head, dismissing it as his imagination, though a flicker of unease lingered.
Sara tugged at his sleeve. "You're overthinking again."
"Maybe," he admitted, forcing a smile. But the shadow of doubt stayed, prickling at the edge of his mind.
Then, the world ended.
A sound—impossible to describe—tore through the air. Like a mountain collapsing in grief.
**The eastern wall exploded.**
Not broke. Not cracked.
*Exploded.*
Stone turned to shrapnel. Cold air slammed into the ballroom like a tidal wave, extinguishing every flame. Shadows surged. Screams erupted.
Victor moved before thought caught up. He shoved Sara behind him, shadow curling over his arms in a dark-blue shimmer, pulsing with instinct.
Then they came.
Figures slipped through the dust—tall, lean, faceless. Their armor was dark and seamless. No wasted steps. No emotion. Just purpose.
A blade arced toward Sara.
Victor intercepted, flinging the attacker back with a whip-crack of shadow.
"Stay behind me!" he growled.
---
Chaos bloomed.
Blood stained the marble. Screams cut short. Magic twisted the air—corrupted, wrong. Victor's Shadow Element surged, shaping blades and shields.
*Not enough.*
These things didn't flinch. Didn't slow. Didn't bleed like living things.
He stabbed. Slashed. Dodged.
One attacker took a blade to the ribs—and kept coming.
*No pain. No fear.*
Victor's mind screamed *run*. His body fought.
---
Then he saw them.
His parents.
Varian stood like a wall of fury, blade drawn. Selina moved beside him, calm and deadly. Together, they held back one masked nightmare.
Victor charged. Shadows tore through the floor behind him.
*Too slow.*
"No—!"
His scream ripped free.
The masked figure struck.
A flash of silver—
Selina dropped. Eyes open. Empty.
Varian roared. Lunged.
The enemy met him mid-stride.
Steel pierced flesh. Blood sprayed.
Varian collapsed beside his wife, his hand stretching… fingers brushing hers.
Then still.
---
Victor's vision blurred.
Something shattered inside him.
The shadows surged. Wild. Uncontrolled. Jagged waves of darkness ripped marble apart.
*Gone.*
*Gone like the warmth in their voices.*
He fell to his knees, the world tilting.
Sara's voice—distant, frantic—called his name.
But all he could hear was the silence where his parents' laughter had been.
And the shadows screamed with him.