The entrance hall of Xalizar's castle was a cathedral of dark stone and marble columns that gleamed in the torchlight. Olthum Oleara entered with slow, steady steps, his eyes scanning the tapestries that told the history of the Xavier family—battles, betrayals, alliances made and broken.
He wore simple clothes by Orthid's standards: a dark tunic, a leather coat, worn boots. Nothing that would draw attention. Nothing that said "I am an emissary of O." Just a tired man with a mission to fulfill.
The guard, a man in silver armor with tired eyes, approached.
"Sir," he said, with a bow. "Can I help you?"
Olthum smiled. The smile was polite, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"I want to speak with Zirinos," he said, his voice calm. "Tell him a friend wants to see him."
The guard hesitated. His eyes scanned Olthum from head to toe, as if assessing whether this man was a threat.
"Prince Zirinos is resting," he said, finally. "He is not receiving visitors."
Olthum kept his smile.
"Tell him it's Olthum Oleara. He will want to speak with me."
The guard hesitated again. Then, with a sigh, he bowed and walked away.
Olthum sat on a wooden bench, leaning against the wall. The room was silent, except for the crackling of the torches. He took a deck of cards from his pocket—old, worn cards with drawings of dragons and swords.
Dragon Solitaire.
The game was simple but required patience. Olthum liked patience. He liked waiting, observing, planning.
'I want to get this over with', he thought, as he turned a card. 'Take Zirinos with me and see the birth of Ollum and Olheita's first child.'
The image of Olheita pregnant, smiling, holding Ollum's hand, brought a pang of warmth to him. He liked that girl. He liked the way she could make Ollum smile, even when the world seemed to be burning.
The next card was a dragon. He placed it in the right spot.
'But will Zirinos like the gift I prepared?'
The question hung in the air. Olthum didn't know the answer. He didn't know what Zirinos wanted, what he needed, what made him get up in the morning.
'What do you give to a man who destroyed a world?'
There was no answer. Ever since Olthum entered the castle, he had felt all the mutilated and sad souls that wandered the wing where the room was located, where he could feel the divine power of Z. The rumors of Zirinos having destroyed a world weren't so far from the truth.
He lost the game.
He put the cards back in his pocket and sighed.
The room door opened.
Xailla entered, with long strides, her face a mask of ice that didn't hide her anger. The guard Olthum had sent came behind her, head down, eyes fixed on the floor.
"What is a noble from O doing here?" she asked, her voice cold, cutting.
Olthum stood up. The smile, once polite, became sharper.
"What would a noble be doing in the same place as Zirinos Sinéld Malor, the only heir to the most powerful blood power in the world?"
Xailla paled. Her hand, once still, was now clenched.
"Zirinos is not going with me," she said, her voice trembling. "He's not going with anyone. He's my guest. And he's staying here."
Olthum tilted his head. The smile didn't disappear.
"Of course, Lady Xavier. Of course."
Xailla said nothing more. She turned, grabbed the guard by the arm, and left the room. The door closed behind her with a bang that echoed off the walls.
Olthum sighed. He sat down again. He took the cards from his pocket.
"Dragon Solitaire," he murmured to himself. "The only thing that never betrays me."
+-+
Zirinos's room smelled of herbs and burnt wax.
Celer Cunqana, the chief physician, stood beside the bed, her hand resting on Zirinos's forehead. A purple light, faint and pulsating, came from her palm and enveloped the prince's body.
"Here," she said, handing him a white pill. "It will help with the pain."
Zirinos swallowed the pill with difficulty. His hand, once strong, now trembled.
"Thank you," he said, his voice hoarse, broken.
Celer sighed. Her hands, once steady, were now trembling.
"My work is done," she said. "I'm leaving the planet."
Zirinos looked at her. His eyes, once cloudy, now fixed on the physician.
"Because of Manertólius?"
Celer didn't answer. She just nodded.
The door opened.
Xailla entered. Her face, once cold, was now red with anger. Her eyes, once fixed on the floor, now fixed on Zirinos.
"What's wrong?" Zirinos asked, his voice still hoarse.
"There's an emissary from O," Xailla said, her voice trembling. "He wants to speak with you."
Zirinos said nothing. He just stared at the ceiling.
Xiollor, who was lying beside him, her eyes closed, her head resting on Zirinos's bare chest, pretended to sleep. Her hair, of a silver tone, fell over his chest like a cascade of light.
Xailla looked at her sister. Her eyes, once fixed on Zirinos, now fixed on her. The anger, once contained, now overflowed.
"You," she said, her voice low, dangerous. "Get out of here."
Xiollor didn't move. She just kept pretending to sleep.
"Xiollor," Zirinos called, his voice calm, but with a hint of threat. "If you move again, I'll kill you."
Xiollor felt the cold in Zirinos's voice. Her hand, once resting on his chest, contracted slightly. But she didn't move.
Zirinos looked at Xailla. His eyes, once cloudy, now fixed on hers.
"Why don't you flee?" he asked, his voice low. "Why don't you go to your father? To a safe place?"
Xailla hesitated. Her hand, once clenched, was now open.
"If I went to my father," she said, her voice low, "I would die. He wouldn't protect me. Not me, not Xiollor."
"And Manertólius?"
Xailla swallowed hard.
"If I wait for him, perhaps he'll let me live. Because of my strength. Because of my usefulness."
Zirinos felt the weight of those words. The truth, naked and raw, was there. Xailla had nowhere to run. Neither of them did.
"Is the blood power of X's royal lineage really as strong as they say?" he asked, his voice low.
Xailla didn't answer. She just looked at him, her eyes fixed on his.
Zirinos thought of M. Of the dirtiest galaxy in the world. Of Manertólius Malice. Of the blood power that ran in the Xavier family's veins.
'If I had been born in M or X', he thought, 'I would be even stronger. Each for different reasons. M for cruelty. X for mutilation.'
But he hadn't been born in M. He hadn't been born in X. He had been born in Z. And his power was the Julqam-Totalus.
"Lie down," he said, his voice softer. "Lie down beside me."
Xailla looked at him, surprised. Her eyes, once fixed on his, now fixed on the empty space beside him.
"What?"
"Lie down," Zirinos repeated. "You're not afraid of me, are you?"
Xailla hesitated. Her hands, once still, were now trembling.
"No," she said, finally. "I'm not afraid."
She lay down beside him, her head touching his shoulder. Her breathing, once calm, was now rapid.
Zirinos felt her weight against his body. The warmth. The life.
*How long would it take for the monster to come out if I could move?*
The question echoed in his mind. But Xiollor's sleepy face, Xailla's warmth against his body, the calm breathing of the two sisters—all of it told him that perhaps the monster wouldn't come out. Perhaps, for a moment, he could just be a man.
"Zirinos," Xailla whispered, her voice so low he barely heard her.
"Tell me."
"I..."
The door opened.
Olthum Oleara entered. The smile, once on his face, died when he saw the two future rulers of X nestled in Zirinos's arms.
Silence settled.
Zirinos looked at Olthum, surprised. His hand, once resting on Xiollor's shoulder, contracted slightly.
"Olthum," he said, his voice neutral, but with a hint of surprise. "What are you doing here?"
Olthum recovered his smile. The smile, once genuine, was now forced.
"I'll talk to you later," he said, his voice calm, almost amused. "After you've had your fun with them."
Zirinos felt laughter rise to his throat. Not a cold, calculating laugh—a genuine, almost childlike laugh.
"Still the same!" he said, with a happiness he hadn't felt in months. "Guards! Get a room for my friend!"
The guards at the door bowed. Olthum nodded and left the room, the door closing behind him.
Xiollor, who had pretended to sleep, opened her eyes.
"Friend?" she asked, her voice suspicious. "You know that man?"
Zirinos didn't answer. He just looked at the door, his eyes fixed on the spot where Olthum had disappeared.
"I do," he said, finally. "From a time when I still had friends."
+-+
The room the guards arranged for Olthum was modest, but clean. A bed, a table, a window overlooking the inner garden. The silence was total—the silence of Xalizar, where no one cared about anyone.
Olthum closed the door.
His right hand went to his pocket. He took out a necklace—a golden necklace, with the insignia of two crossed axes. The torchlight, once faint, shone on the metal as if it had a life of its own.
Olthum threw the necklace to the floor.
The metal broke with a dry sound.
And the light came.
Not a soft light, like that of the torches. Not an artificial light, like that of neon. An ancient, deep light, that seemed to come from before time—the white of creation, the white of destruction, the white that existed before everything and would exist after everything.
From the light emerged a figure.
He was tall—almost three meters tall. His body, muscular, was covered by a black cloak that seemed to absorb light. His hair, black and long, fell over his shoulders like a cascade of ink. His eyes, with irises so dark they seemed to suck in light, were fixed on Olthum.
Rhinorius Sturk.
The black bracelets on his wrists shone with a golden light. The chains, once broken, extended slightly, as if remembering what they had been.
Rhinorius didn't speak. He just tilted his head.
Olthum swallowed hard. His hand, once still, was now trembling.
"Thank you," he said, his voice low. "For coming."
Rhinorius didn't respond. He just extended his right hand. In his palm, a golden necklace—a simple necklace, with the insignia of galaxy F.
Olthum took the necklace. The metal was cold, heavy.
"Thank you," he repeated, putting the necklace in his pocket.
Rhinorius said nothing. He just stood there, motionless, his eyes fixed on Olthum.
Olthum looked at the door. At the corridor. At the room where Zirinos lay, weak, exhausted, with the two sisters nestled in his arms.
'Zirinos can barely move', he thought. 'He's in another room. If he had seen Rhinorius, the galaxy of O would be destroyed.'
He realized, with a chill down his spine, that Zirinos was more powerful than anyone in X. The galaxy of X based its power on mutilation—biological, mental, conceptual. And Zirinos had mutilated many souls. In Endomyar. Everywhere.
'If he wanted', Olthum thought, 'he could destroy everything. And no one could stop him.'
He looked at Rhinorius. At the silent man, with black eyes, who had destroyed an entire world and come out unscathed.
'And if he wanted', Olthum thought, 'he could save us all. Or destroy us all.'
He didn't know which of the two was more likely.
Silence settled. The torchlight crackled.
Rhinorius remained motionless.