Prince Valeyn sat alone, back straight against the high-backed chair, fingers interlaced loosely before him.
He closed his eyes but not to rest.
His thumb brushed the skin just behind his right ear, slow and deliberate. There was nothing there that anyone could see. No mark or scar. No foreign object that could be detected by sight or touch.
But he knew.
It was there. Always there.
Listening. Always faster than thought.
That was why Madison Ultima terrified him far more than Caedryn Voss ever could.
Caedryn was dangerous in a way Valeyn understood. Ambition, obsession. A man who wanted control so badly he was willing to wrap it in duty and law until it looked acceptable. Caedryn could be watched and countered with whatever plan he made.
Madison was none of those things.
She did not want control or permission from anyone.
And she did not need time.
Valeyn's breath slowed as the memory rose unbidden, vivid and merciless.
—
It had been a little over a month ago.
The palace had been alive that night.
His father's birth celebration had filled Solcarth's upper halls with music, laughter, and the polished ease of people who had never questioned their own safety. Nobles from allied regions. Guild heads. Foreign merchants hoping to earn favor. Wayfarers whose Standing allowed them to walk the palace floors without escort.
And among them, a Crosser.
Madison Ultima.
Realm designation 000890, according to the registry.
At the time, she had been introduced as a budding merchant. Nothing more. No titles. No claims. No visible Standing mark that anyone could read.
Valeyn remembered the first moment he saw her.
She had not worn a gown.
That alone had drawn attention.
Instead, she wore fitted trousers, a crisp white collared long sleeve dress shirt, and a long, dark coat that concealed the lines of her body without trying to. Her hair was pulled tight into a neat bun, not a single strand loose. She looked composed, professional, almost austere.
She had arrived as a merchant giving her regards to the land's head.
Not as a woman seeking favor.
And somehow, that made her stand out far more than silk or jewels ever could.
She was beautiful. That was undeniable. Even by Aetherfall's standards, where beauty was abundant and often exaggerated, Madison was striking.
But it was not a beauty that invited. It was a beauty that warned.
Valeyn had felt it then. A faint discomfort he could not name. A sense that something about her presence did not align with the rest of the room.
His eldest brother, however, had noticed something else entirely.
The older prince had taken an interest immediately.
At first, it had seemed harmless enough. Conversation. Polite attention. Offers of assistance framed as generosity. But as the evening wore on, the tone shifted.
His brother had always been like that.
Persistent. Insistent. Used to being indulged.
What began as charm slid easily into pressure. A hand lingering too long. A step too close. Words that carried expectation rather than invitation.
Valeyn had noticed. He had wanted to intervene.
But he had not.
Their father was present. The court was watching. Drawing attention to a conflict with the heir over a foreign merchant would have caused complications Valeyn could not afford.
So he had done what the palace always did.
He had smiled.
He had laughed softly along with the others.
He had let it pass.
By the time the night drew on and the celebration thinned into quieter gatherings, Madison had faded from his thoughts. There had been too much wine. Too many conversations. Too many calculations about alliances and appearances.
He had forgotten her.
Until he heard something.
Valeyn had been walking through one of the palace's quieter corridors, heading toward a lesser-used parlor that overlooked the inner gardens. It was a habit of his, seeking silence when the palace grew too loud.
That was when he heard it.
A muffled sound. Not quite a cry. Not quite laughter.
Something's wrong.
He slowed.
The door to the parlor ahead was not fully closed. A thin line of light spilled out onto the marble floor.
Valeyn approached quietly.
And stopped.
Inside, he saw his brother.
The older prince had someone by the arm, pulling her toward the center of the room with a grip that was far too rough to be mistaken for play.
Madison.
Her coat had slipped from one shoulder. Her hair was no longer bound.
Valeyn felt his chest tighten.
He stepped closer, about to speak, about to make his presence known.
He never got the chance.
Aurelion Solcarth had always been loud in his confidence. The kind of man who believed the world bent because he stood at its center. When he dragged Madison into the parlor, his grip was firm, entitled, careless.
He did not see danger. He saw something he wanted and will get whatever the price.
The room was softly lit. Tall windows half-covered by curtains, moonlight bleeding in thin silver lines across polished stone. A place meant for quiet talks and wine, not screams.
Madison did not resist.
That was the first wrong thing.
She stood there as Aurelion pulled her closer, her posture straight, her face serene. Her eyes were calm, almost distant, as though she were listening to music no one else could hear.
Her beauty was untouched by fear.
Smooth pale skin. Long lashes casting shadows on her cheeks. Lips relaxed, neither smiling nor frowning. She looked like a painting of a saint placed in the wrong room.
Aurelion leaned closer, breath heavy with wine.
"Don't be difficult," he said, voice low. "You'll enjoy it."
That was when everything stopped.
Not slowed.
Stopped.
The sound of the palace vanished. No music. No footsteps. Even the faint crackle of distant torches died out, as if the world itself had been muted.
Madison's hair loosened.
The bun unraveled on its own, pins sliding free and clinking softly to the floor. Her hair spilled down her back like dark silk, catching the moonlight.
Then it moved.
Not swaying or falling.
Moving.
Individual strands lifted, slowly at first, as if testing the air. Then more followed, lengthening far beyond what hair should be capable of. They slid across the floor, curled around furniture, brushed against stone.
Alive.
Aurelion froze mid-motion.
His smirk collapsed into confusion.
"…What is…"
He never finished the sentence.
His body dropped.
Not collapsed.
Forced into ground.
His knees slammed into the stone floor with a dull crack that echoed too loudly in the silent room. The sound of bone striking stone felt obscene in the stillness.
His mouth opened in a scream that never came.
His hands flew to his throat as if something invisible had wrapped tight around his voice. His fingers clawed at his neck, nails scraping skin raw, but there was nothing there.
Nothing he could fight.
His eyes bulged as veins stood out along his temples.
Madison watched him. Her expression did not change.
She looked down at him with mild interest, like someone observing an insect that had crawled into the wrong place.
Aurelion tongue slid out of his mouth.
Slowly.
It did not tear free. It did not snap or rupture. It stretched, pulled by an unseen force, inch by inch, glistening with saliva and blood as it extended past his lips, down his chin, toward his chest.
His jaw trembled violently.
His eyes rolled back as his body shook in helpless spasms.
Still alive and very aware. As though something was making sure he could see and feel of everything.
But unable to scream.
Then his stomach began to bleed.
At first, it was just a dark stain spreading across his clothes. Then the fabric split open with a soft, wet sound, as if cut by careful hands.
Skin parted. Muscle peeled back.
His abdomen opened.
What spilled out did not fall. It slid.
Slowly, deliberately, as though being guided. Loops of flesh glistened in the moonlight, steam faintly rising as they touched the cold stone floor.
Aurelion convulsed.
His mouth stretched wider than it should have been able to. His tongue still hung grotesquely from his face, trembling, slick with blood.
Tears streamed down his cheeks. Blood poured from his nose and ears.
Madison tilted her head slightly as though curious.
The things that had fallen from his body began to move.
They dragged themselves across the floor.
Toward his mouth.
Aurelion's jaw was forced open. Wide.
The flesh then was pushed inside.
He gagged and chewed
Choked and swallow.
The sound was wet, horrible, intimate. A man being made to consume himself while fully conscious.
His eyes locked onto Madison. Begging.
She did nothing.
She did not raise her hand.
She did not speak.
She simply watched, her face calm, almost gentle, as if she were supervising something tedious.
And then, just as Aurelion's body reached the edge of collapse…
Madison sighed.
A soft, tired sound.
Everything reset.
Aurelion was whole again.
Kneeling and crying.
Gasping for air.
His stomach intact. His tongue back in place. His body shaking violently, eyes wide and unfocused.
Before relief could even register…
It happened again.
The same sequence.
The same violation.
The same slow, careful destruction.
Over.
And over.
And over.
Time did not pass normally. It folded back on itself, trapping Aurleion in a private hell that only Madison controlled.
Valeyn felt something behind him then.
A presence. Before he could react a voice slid into his ear, soft and amused.
"You shouldn't watch too closely."
Valeyn flinched violently, breath hitching as he turned his head just enough to see her.
A young woman stood beside him.
She looked barely older than Madison. Pale hair cut short, neat and deliberate. Her eyes were bright, curious, entirely untroubled by the scene unfolding just a few steps away.
She leaned in slightly, hands clasped behind her back like a spectator enjoying a private show.
"You'll break," she murmured. "And my young mistress hates it when witnesses break early."
Valeyn's throat closed.
"I… please…" His voice cracked. "Stop her."
The companion glanced toward Madison.
Madison had lifted one hand again.
Aurelion's body seized instantly, muscles locking as his spine arched violently. His mouth opened once more in a silent scream.
The companion sighed fondly.
"She really does try to be patient," she said. "Most people never notice."
Valeyn shook his head weakly, tears blurring his vision.
"She can stop this," he whispered.
"Yes," the woman agreed easily. "She can."
Madison didn't.
Instead, she watched as Aurelion's stomach began to bulge again, skin stretching unnaturally as something pushed outward.
The companion leaned closer, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret.
"Sometimes," she said softly, "my mistress enjoys watching despicable mortals suffer."
Valeyn's knees nearly gave out.
"Not because they hurt her," the woman continued. "Not because they challenged her."
Her eyes flicked to Aurelion, who was trembling violently now, mind unraveling under the weight of repeated agony.
"But because people like him always think their power makes them untouchable."
She smiled.
"They're fascinating."
Valeyn sobbed silently.
"This is evil," he whispered.
The woman laughed quietly, covering her mouth with two fingers.
"Oh no," she said. "Evil is loud. Messy. Emotional."
She leaned in until her lips nearly brushed his ear.
"This is restraint."
Madison exhaled again.
Aurelion's body reset once more.
Whole.
Kneeling.
Broken beyond repair.
Madison crouched slightly, bringing herself closer to his eye level. Her expression softened, almost gentle.
For a moment, Valeyn thought she might speak.
She didn't.
She smiled instead.
Just a little.
And Valeyn understood, with absolute clarity, that whatever Madison Ultima was…
She was not a god.
She was something that decided whether gods were allowed to exist at all.
And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it ended.
Madison sighed.
A small sound. Almost tired.
When Valeyn thought his own mind would break, when he felt something inside him slipping irreparably, hands took his shoulders and guided him away.
He remembered being ushered into another room.
Remembered sitting.
Remembered Madison's voice.
Calm. Gentle. Almost kind.
"You're allowed to exist," she had said, as if stating an unimportant fact. "Just because."
Then he felt it.
A single strand of her hair slid behind his right ear, sinking into him as if his flesh were water.
No pain.
No resistance.
A warning.
Clear and absolute.
Thinking of acting against her. Even against his will, even if he'll be controlled by somebody.
Speaking, writing, signaling of what he had seen, even considering it too closely.
Any of it would end him.
Not just him but the entirety of Solcarth.
Erased.
As if it had never existed.
She had said it plainly. Not as a threat. As a condition.
Part of her plan.
His brother received the same gift.
Only heavier.
Bound tighter.
A promise of endless torment should he ever forget his place.
Madison and her companion had left after that. Hair bound cleanly and securely, clothes untouched by his brothers roughness.
As if nothing had happened.
And the palace continued on.
—
Valeyn opened his eyes.
His hands were trembling.
His breath came shallow as sweat dampened his collar.
He swallowed hard.
Madison Ultima was not a god.
Gods could be fought. Probably sealed. Negotiated with.
She was something else.
Something that treated existence like a suggestion.
Valeyn leaned back, forcing his breathing to steady.
Theo Finley's face surfaced in his mind.
The archivist.
The Crosser.
Connected to her.
Valeyn pushed the thought away immediately.
No.
He would not think of him nor touch him.
Would not even allow curiosity to linger.
If Theo was connected to the young madam, then Theo was untouchable.
Not worth the risk.
Not worth the thought.
Valeyn straightened, smoothing his clothes, forcing his expression back into something composed.
He would let Caedryn chase his sealed gods.
He would let the prefect dig.
But he would not step into Madison Ultima's shadow again.
Once had been more than enough.