[Fors's POV]
The crackle of the campfire was the only sound for a long, heavy moment.
Fors froze, the cup of fermented beetle wine halfway to her lips. Her mind raced, processing the bomb Klaus had just casually dropped. 'Saint Cormac has a younger brother? And it's… him?'
A cold knot formed in her stomach. She knew the stories—or rather, the future history. Saint Cormac wasn't just a random powerful figure; he was a pivotal piece in the tragedy of the Chained Isles. He was destined to die a brutal death at the hands of Saint Tyris, a casualty of the intricate, horrifying web spun by Mordret, the Prince of Nothing.
'Crap. This is bad. This is catastrophic,' Fors thought, her eyes darting between Klaus's fond smile and the flickering flames. 'Klaus loves his brother. If—when—Cormac dies, it will destroy him. And the people inadvertently responsible for setting those events in motion… are technically allies of the people we are dealing with.'
She felt a bead of sweat trickle down her temple. 'What should I do? I can't just sit here and sip wine while knowing his brother is walking toward a guillotine. But I can't say anything without revealing things I shouldn't know.'
She turned her head, catching Alista's eye. The Blood Emperor was watching her, his expression unreadable, but his eyes held a sharp, knowing glint. He sensed the tension instantly.
"Well," Alista said, his voice cutting through the silence and drawing attention away from the stunned archer. "The future is a problem for another day. Let's meet your brother after we leave this hellhole, Klaus. Until then, he can take care of himself. He is a Saint, after all."
He turned his gaze to the silver-haired woman sitting stiffly by the fire. "Arty, it is now your turn. Spill."
Klaus and the others shifted their attention to Artemis. The Princess of Valor sighed, swirling the amber liquid in her cup. The alcohol had loosened her iron guard, allowing a glimpse of the girl beneath the armor.
"My life?" Artemis let out a bitter, hollow laugh. "My life has been nothing but training. From the moment I could walk, I was holding a sword. But it was never enough."
She stared into the fire, her blue eyes reflecting the flames. "I was always compared to Morgan. The Princess of War. She is perfection incarnate—ruthless, flawless, the ideal weapon. Compared to her, I was always… lacking."
She took a long drink, wincing as the strong alcohol burned her throat. "Uncle Anvil… the King of Swords… he always looked at me as if I were a chipped blade. Useful, perhaps, but fundamentally flawed. To the Clan elders, I was a black omen. A discoloration in their pristine lineage."
Her voice dropped to a whisper, filled with a profound, quiet sadness. "But the worst part… was my father. He didn't look at me like a daughter. He looked at me like I was some sort of Nightmare Creature."
The silence around the fire was different now. It wasn't awkward; it was sympathetic.
Fors watched her, feeling a pang of pity. 'I understand Anvil of Valor. In the stories, he's obsessed with forging the perfect weapon; his Flaw drove him to become cold and calculating. But her father? Why would a father look at his child with such revulsion?'
"What happened?" Alista asked gently.
Artemis shook her head. "I… I don't know. I tried to probe, to understand why he hated me. But eventually, I just thought… whatever."
She suddenly raised her cup high, sloshing the liquid over the rim. Her voice rose to a defiant shout that echoed against the walls of the Dark Castle.
"This is to Father and Uncle Anvil! To everyone who underestimated me! I will show them! I am not inferior to anyone! I am Artemis of Valor!"
"Hear, hear!" Klaus cheered, raising his own cup.
Everyone laughed, the heavy atmosphere shattering under the weight of her defiance.
Klaus grinned, nudging Gwen. "Okay, note to self: Never feed the Princess alcohol, or the next thing we know, she'll be arguing with a statue."
"Who are you calling argumentative?" Artemis snapped, her cheeks flushed.
"You," Alista said, reaching over. "Give me that. You've had enough."
"I have not!" Artemis protested, pulling the cup back.
"Give it here, Arty," Alista commanded, lunging for it.
"Make me, Emperor!"
Within seconds, the dignified Blood Emperor and the regal Princess of Valor were wrestling in the dirt like siblings fighting over a toy, kicking up dust and trading insults.
Gwen tapped Fors on the shoulder, her eyes wide. Her hands moved quickly: [Should we stop them? They might hurt each other.]
Fors leaned back, watching Alista put Artemis in a sloppy headlock while she tried to bite his arm. A genuine smile touched Fors's lips. "Nah. Let them be. It is way too fun to watch."
After some time, the scuffle ended. Artemis and Alista sat side by side, panting heavily, both of them drenched in spilled alcohol and covered in soot.
"Bastard," Artemis muttered, wiping her face.
"Bitch," Alista replied, grinning.
Klaus looked at them with amusement. "Is it over? Are the royals done making a scene?"
Artemis and Alista nodded in unison and stayed quiet, a comfortable camaraderie settling between them.
Fors looked up at the artificial stars of the Forgotten Shore. 'How many years has it been since I laughed like this? Since I felt… safe? I hope it stays like this. Just for a little while.'
Gwen shifted, drawing attention to herself. She signaled for attention, her face glowing in the firelight.
[Let me tell you something,] she signed.
For the next hour, Gwen recounted her life before the silence. She told them about the rush of the stage, the roar of the crowd, and the music that used to fill her soul. But the most surprising revelation came when she spoke of her peers.
[I am friends with Kai,] she signed, her movements fluid and nostalgic. [Nightingale. Before the Spell took my voice, we used to share music tastes. We would sneak out of galas to eat street food and talk about composition. We even met a few times here, in the Forgotten Shore, before everything went wrong.]
Klaus's jaw dropped. "You know the Kai? The idol?"
Gwen smiled, a soft, sad expression. [To the world, he is an idol. To me, he was just a kind boy who loved music. That guy is a gem.]
The group spent the rest of the night trading stories, momentarily forgetting the Spire, the Dark Sea, and the looming threat of death. For one night, they were just humans.
[Sid's POV]
The euphoria of the picnic did not extend to the rest of the settlement.
Sid sat in her small, cramped room, the weight of responsibility pressing down on her shoulders. Before she left, the Changing Star had entrusted her with a monumental task: keep the peace in the Outer Settlements.
It sounded simple, but with the food supplies dwindling and the tension between the factions rising, it was anything but.
Sid sighed, rubbing her temples. 'I really thought having the Blood Emperor allied with the Changing Star would solve everything. Together, they could have easily overthrown Gunlaug. But of course, they didn't get along. The Emperor is too cynical, and Nephis is too… distant.'
She looked at the small candle flickering on her table. 'Let's just hope there are no more problems tonight. If we can just last until the expedition returns…'
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound was heavy, authoritative, and completely devoid of courtesy.
Sid froze. It was late. No one visited at this hour unless it was an emergency.
She stood up, smoothing her tunic, and walked to the door. "Who is it?"
"Castle Guard," a muffled voice replied. "Open up."
Sid's heart skipped a beat. Gunlaug's men rarely came down to the slums unless they were looking for tribute—or trouble. She unbolted the door and opened it.
Standing in the hallway were four men clad in the pristine, terrifying armor of the Bright Castle. They blocked the entire corridor, their presence radiating menace.
The leader of the squad stepped forward. He didn't look at her face; he looked through her, as if she were already a ghost.
"You are Sid, lieutenant of the Changing Star cohort?"
"I am," Sid replied, trying to keep her voice steady. "How can I help you?"
The guard placed a hand on his weapon. "You are under arrest."
Sid blinked, confusion warring with fear. "What? On what charges?"
The guard smiled, a cold, predatory expression. "You have been accused of conspiring in the murder of Castle Guards committed by the fugitive known as Effie. By order of the Bright Lord, you are to be detained."
Sid's blood ran cold. "Huh?"
Before she could scream, a heavy gauntlet reached out, grabbing her by the collar and dragging her into the darkness.
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Hi guys,I have been busy for a week.I have some work,like developing a Original Fic.Thanks for the view,Keep enjoying the chapter