The palace of Everhart no longer felt like a fortress.
Where once the marble halls gleamed with pride, now whispers seeped through every corner. Servants muttered when Andy passed, knights stiffened at his approach, nobles' eyes lingered on him longer than courtesy allowed. Some gazes held reverence, others thinly veiled fear. And each look drove another crack into Andy's chest.
He told himself he didn't care. But every step through the palace corridors, every whisper that hissed in his wake, reminded him of one truth: the throne room's light had changed everything.
Beside him, Nia walked with steady grace. Her silver hair shimmered faintly, her ring pulsing in rhythm with Andy's own. Each time their hands brushed, the rings flared softly, as though insisting you are not alone. She would glance at him, offering a faint smile, and for a moment the weight lifted.
But Andrew's eyes lingered on them from a distance.
He saw the way her hand drifted near Andy's, the way she leaned closer to him as if he were her anchor. He saw the nobles whispering Andy's name instead of his, heard servants speaking of "the Dragon Warrior" as though he were Everhart's true savior.
Every piece of his inheritance—his father's respect, his sister's loyalty, the admiration of the House—was slipping from him, into the hands of a stranger.
And the more he saw, the more a thought took root: perhaps Everhart's survival did not depend on Andy's protection, but on his removal.
---
That evening, the palace feasted, though joy was thin. Nobles gathered in candlelit chambers, their voices hushed, their laughter sharp as knives.
Andrew was summoned to one such room. He stepped through velvet curtains into a chamber thick with wine and smoke. Three lords awaited him, seated around a low table. Their eyes gleamed in the firelight.
"Sir Andrew," one purred. "The true heir of Everhart."
Andrew bowed stiffly, his jaw tightening. "You wanted me."
The eldest, a hawk-nosed lord with rings heavy on his fingers, leaned forward. "Your father grows blind. The boy—Andy—has ensnared him. Worse, he has ensnared her." His gaze sharpened, meaning Nia.
Andrew's fists clenched, though he said nothing.
Another lord chuckled darkly. "A stranger walks into our halls, and suddenly the nobles whisper his name more than yours. The people cheer his power while doubting your command. Tell me, Andrew—how much longer before you are nothing but his shadow?"
The words cut deeper than blades. He wanted to deny them. But memory surged: Nia's hand in Andy's, the glow of their rings in the throne room, her voice raised for Andy, not him.
"What do you suggest?" he asked finally, his tone cold.
"That you remind Everhart of its true heir," the hawk-nosed lord said smoothly. "Cast doubt upon the boy. Subtle, at first. The court must see not only nobles resisting him, but blood itself. Speak against him in whispers. Let them question. And when the time comes… we will ensure Everhart is not chained by a curse."
Andrew's throat felt dry. The fire in their words burned like poison, yet part of him wanted to breathe it in. He gave a single nod.
"I will consider it."
Their smiles were serpentine.
---
Elsewhere, Nia sat in her chamber, her window open to the cool night. The city murmured below, the stars scattered above, but her thoughts were caged.
Her father's command still echoed: You will be betrothed to Lord Albrecht's son. His words had been iron, his eyes unyielding. He would use Andy as a banner, a threat, a chained beast in Everhart's name.
A knock stirred her. She turned, startled, as the door creaked open.
Sir Calder stepped in—her father's oldest knight, hair silver, posture stooped but eyes still keen. He bowed deeply.
"My lady," he said in a low voice. "Forgive me for speaking out of turn. But you must know. Your father's intentions are clear. He means not only to bind Andy to Everhart, but to wield him for the crown. If Andy resists…" He trailed off. His silence said enough.
Nia's breath hitched. "I feared this."
Calder's face was grim. "Lady Nia, I served your House all my life. I have seen Everhart rise and endure. But this path your father treads… it leads to ruin. Be ready. For chains forged in fear are not easily broken."
Her hands trembled as she dismissed him. Alone again, she sank onto her bed, pressing her palms to her face. She felt her father's shadow looming, her brother's silence deepening, and the nobles' whispers closing in like nets.
But then she lowered her hands and saw her ring, glowing faintly with its star. She drew a long breath, steadying herself. Whatever came, she and Andy would endure it together.
---
Andy himself found no such calm.
He stood in the training yard, the moon overhead, sparks leaping weakly from his fists. He tried again, forcing fire to answer him. Nothing but flickers. His old skills—gone, sealed by the Star System.
He struck the air, again and again, his voice ragged. "Useless! I can't even summon a flame strong enough to—" His voice cracked.
He dropped to his knees, chest heaving, hands shaking. The emptiness inside him was suffocating. He thought of the dragon, of flames that had nearly consumed him, of Nia's hand steadying him. Without her… he was nothing.
He looked up at the stars, teeth clenched. "How am I supposed to protect her if I can't even protect myself?"
The constellations glittered above, silent, uncaring.
For the first time, Andy wondered if the court was right. Maybe he was a curse after all.
---
Andrew's steps carried him deeper into the palace that same night. Past the gilded halls, into the older wings where dust lay thick and torches sputtered weakly. Shadows gathered heavier here, swallowing the corners.
And in those shadows, he heard it.
A voice, soft as smoke, curling against his ear. "You could have been more. You could still be."
He froze, his breath sharp. "Who's there?"
The shadows thickened. A shape rippled, not human, its outline twisting, its eyes faint embers in the dark.
Andrew's heart pounded. His instincts screamed to run, to call guards, to banish this nightmare. But his feet rooted to the floor.
The voice coiled tighter. "He takes what is yours. Your House. Your sister. Your destiny. Will you let him?"
Andrew's fists clenched, nails biting deep until blood welled. His lips parted. No denial came. Only silence, raw and trembling.
The shadow smiled.
And Andrew did not turn away.
---