CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR: ROYAL BLOOD

The battlefield lay within the Kingdom of Luyas.

War had drawn people from every corner of the continent. Soldiers, healers, volunteers, and mercenaries alike had converged upon the Kingdom in an effort to reclaim it from the Spirits who had invaded and occupied its lands. Even the infamous Black Raven Clan of the Northern Continent, long-standing rivals of the White Wolf Clan, had crossed borders to lend their strength.

At the centre of the operation stood Lord Eden XIII.

Originally, command had been entrusted to Master Oracle Fye. Yet an urgent matter within his own Kingdom had demanded his immediate presence, forcing him to remain behind and direct the war from afar through screen communication. In his stead, Lord Eden had assumed full operational control, coordinating allied forces with methodical precision.

Weeks of relentless fighting followed. Weeks marked by bloodshed on both sides, by screams that carried across ruined streets, by lives extinguished before their time. And then, without warning or explanation, the battle ended.

A Spirit messenger had appeared beneath a banner of truce, announcing the withdrawal of all Spirit forces. No terms were offered. No justification given. They simply retreated, vanishing as suddenly as they had come.

The sounds of agony and despair that had haunted the battlefield for weeks fell into silence.

Such devastation should never be repeated.

It did not matter who had struck first. A war remained a war. There were no true victors, only those who survived long enough to count the cost.

Lord Eden stood at the castle gates, a long pipe held between his fingers beneath the mask that concealed his face. He exhaled slowly, smoke drifting into the open air before dispersing. His gaze remained fixed upon the ruined grounds ahead as the Inspection Team carried out their final sweep.

Despite the reported withdrawal, he was not convinced the Spirits had departed without design. Too many times in history had silence preceded catastrophe. Extra contingents had been deployed to the castle as a precaution, every movement calculated, every perimeter reinforced.

Each unit had been assigned clear roles.

The Cavalry Unit, comprised of soldiers from Eden, the Kingdom of the Rose, and the First Unit of the White Wolf Clan, secured the outer perimeters. The Second Unit of the White Wolf Clan focused on evacuating injured civilians and Luyas Knights, transporting them to the medical tents. Meanwhile, the Black Raven Clan handled logistical support, distributing supplies and reinforcing weakened positions.

Lord Eden surveyed the ground littered with fallen bodies, both human and Spirit alike. The stench of blood and decay hung thick in the air, clinging to armour and stone alike. Had it not been for the mask shielding his face, he suspected he might have retched. It did little to block the smell, but it dulled the edge enough to allow him to breathe.

His eyes moved constantly, cataloguing the scene with the same care he applied to battle maps. Broken weapons. Torn banners. Knights kneeling beside fallen comrades, hands shaking as they closed lifeless eyes.

To his far right stood the young Heiress of Luyas, who had arrived the previous evening alongside White Wolf reinforcements from the north. Lord Eden had heard of her conduct during the Spirit conflict in Andania. That she had survived captivity alone was remarkable. That she had returned at all spoke volumes of her resolve.

She had returned to Luyas not as royalty, but as a volunteer within the Medical Unit.

Upon arrival, Luna had offered a formal apology on behalf of her brother, who had chosen to accompany the Spirit Princess on her quest. She had spoken earnestly, shoulders squared despite exhaustion, assuring the assembled forces that although her brother had chosen a different path, he had never once forgotten Luyas or its people.

Lord Eden had accepted her words with a nod, recognising the burden she carried.

Now, he turned his attention back to the castle.

It required inspection.

He moved through the corridors with measured grace, boots echoing softly against stone. His posture remained alert, his senses attuned to the smallest disturbance. Though his forces had secured the grounds, experience had taught him that victory bred carelessness, and carelessness invited disaster.

There were no signs of Spirits.

Yet the absence unsettled him more than their presence ever had.

It reminded him of Fulaina, ten years prior, during the Great War. Back then, the Spirits had vanished mid-battle without warning, leaving devastation behind and questions unanswered. The memory raised the hair at the nape of his neck.

He prayed history would not repeat itself.

Light footsteps approached from behind and halted at a respectful distance.

“Lord Eden. Report, Sir.”

A soldier from the Cavalry Unit stepped forward and saluted. Lord Eden recognised him immediately by the wolf mask and the white wolf insignia tattooed upon his arm.

“Sir,” the soldier continued, “we have completed our inspection of the castle and its towers as per your orders. We located Lord Ranfel confined within a chamber believed to belong to the Commander-in-Charge of the operation, a man named Tal. Lord Ranfel was heavily battered and unconscious. Our healers are treating him as we speak.”

Lord Eden listened without interruption, his expression unreadable behind the mask.

“We also found several Senators imprisoned within the dungeon. Some were injured. Others are safe, though severely traumatised. As for the Luyas Knights who were subjected to mind control, they have been transferred to the First Aid Camps for treatment.”

“Hm.” Lord Eden nodded slowly. “Well done. Once Lord Ranfel regains consciousness and is stable, I wish to see him. Until then, continue your investigations and keep the area secured.”

“Understood, Sir.”

The soldier turned to leave, then paused as the pager at his side vibrated. He glanced at the message, then looked back at Lord Eden.

“Sir, you may wish to see this. It is outside.”

Lord Eden followed him beyond the castle walls.

Two members of the White Wolf Clan stood at attention.

“How many casualties?” Lord Eden asked.

“In total, two hundred,” one replied. “Including brainwashed Luyas Knights. The injured are receiving treatment, and search parties have expanded operations across the Kingdom’s perimeter.”

Another soldier stepped aside. “Additionally, Sire, there is someone who wishes to speak with you.”

They parted.

A tall, heavily bandaged man stood supported by a third White Wolf soldier.

Lord Eden’s breath caught.

The man’s once neatly kept hair had grown long and wild, falling past his hips. His beard was thick and unkempt, streaked with grime and dried blood. Bandages wrapped his torso and covered one eye, stained faintly pink beneath layers of linen. The sharp scent of medicinal salves clung to him.

Grants Rogue.

The Demon Commandant of Luyas.

“Grants,” Lord Eden murmured.

The man looked older. Not merely wounded, but worn down in a way no battlefield injury alone could explain. His remaining eye held a hollowness Eden recognised all too well.

They stared at one another in silence.

Years passed between them at that moment. Training grounds. Strategy rooms. Evenings spent arguing tactics over shared meals. A boy pulled from the ashes of loss. A man forged into a weapon.

“Leave us,” Lord Eden said softly.

The soldiers hesitated, then saluted and withdrew. Even the one supporting Grants stepped away after receiving a firm nod from him.

Grants took a slow step forward.

Then another.

Tap. Tap.

Each step sounded heavier than the last. He stopped a few paces from the man he had once called mentor, commander, brother in all but blood.

“You look worse than hell itself,” Lord Eden said gently, his voice carrying neither judgment nor command.

Grants attempted a smirk. It faltered before it could settle.

A quiet, broken sound escaped his chest. Tears streamed down his face.

Lord Eden’s heart shattered.

In all the years he had known Grants Rogue, he had never seen him cry. Not when fire took his family. Not when his grandfather was slain by Spirits. Not when comrades fell under his command.

Grants had always understood sacrifice. Had accepted it as the price of survival.

But today, something had broken him.

Images flooded his mind as he had been escorted to the medical tent. Bodies strewn across the ground. Faces he knew too well. Pupils who had once looked to him with awe and trust. Comrades who had followed him without question.

His knees gave way.

“I failed them,” Grants choked, collapsing to the ground. “I let them die.”

Lord Eden moved without hesitation.

He knelt beside him, one knee touching the bloodstained earth, the rank of Lord momentarily forgotten. He placed a steady hand upon the larger man’s back, firm and grounding.

Grants sobbed openly, grief pouring from him unchecked. He wept for the fallen, for the Kingdom, for the soldiers who had died believing in him. For those who had thrown themselves into harm’s way to keep him alive.

There were no words that could mend such wounds.

So Lord Eden did not speak. He stayed and let the man mourn.

***

It was late afternoon when Prince Makai and his two companions landed within the Kingdom of Aquarius.

Unlike his sister and her party, the Spirit Prince had not emerged from the portal by plummeting through the well and into the lake below. Halfway through the passage, Leo had intervened, teleporting them safely to the forest’s edge near the shoreline. The transition had been abrupt but precise, the mark of a Guardian who had done this countless times before.

Makai straightened, brushing stray leaves from his coat before pressing the small button on the left side of his wristwatch.

“This is R1,” he said quietly. “Do you read me, Master Oracle?”

A faint hum preceded the reply. “Affirmative. I hear you clearly, Your Highness,” Fye answered. “Report your condition.”

“We landed safely on the shore,” Rinda replied before Makai could speak, already scanning the surrounding treeline. “No visible guards in the immediate vicinity.”

“Understood.”

They moved deeper into the forest, the air growing heavier with each step.

“Do you feel that, Prince?” Leo asked suddenly.

Makai’s brow furrowed. He slowed, eyes narrowing as his senses stretched outward.

“Yes,” Makai said quietly. “The barrier surrounding this Kingdom is infused with magic.”

There was a brief pause on the line.

“That confirms the reports I received from Her Highness and Sir Kazuo,” Fye replied.

Leo’s gaze sharpened as he scanned the forest ahead. “This is not ordinary enchantment. The magic woven into the barrier does not originate from this world. Only Witches are capable of casting something of this magnitude.”

Rinda let out a quiet breath. “Even the Witches are involved…”

As they advanced, Fye spoke again, the sound of papers shifting faintly in the background.

“I have new information,” he said. “Following my recent contact with King Lewis, I obtained several records detailing events before and after the First Spirit Invasion. It appears that His Majesty made contact with the Spirit World prior to the invasion. With an unnamed individual, known only as ‘H’.”

Makai’s jaw tightened.

“Initially,” Fye continued, “Lord Eden and I believed ‘H’ to be a third party acting on behalf of the Spirit Queen. However, further information obtained from Lord Ranfel suggests otherwise. ‘H’ appears to be acting independently. A lone figure who approached King Lewis and offered him something of value in exchange for something else.”

“And three months later,” Fye added quietly, “the First Spirit Invasion began.”

“What?” Makai growled, the sound low and dangerous.

“Do we know what was exchanged?” Leo asked.

“Yes. According to the records, the item was an old map. In return, ‘H’ promised that the Kingdom of Aquarius would be protected from the Spirit invasion.” Fye paused. “We now know this individual has a connection to the Spirit Queen. The extent of that connection remains unclear. We are still investigating.”

Makai increased his pace, boots crunching softly against the forest floor. “Continue digging. Inform us the moment you uncover anything else.”

“Roger that.”

The channel went silent.

A moment later, Makai pressed another button on his wristwatch, switching to a private frequency.

“…Your Highness?” Fye’s voice came again, softer this time. “Is something the matter?”

“Not particularly,” Makai replied, lowering his voice so Leo and Rinda would not hear him.

There was a pause. “Is there anything I can assist you with?”

Makai remained silent.

Seconds passed. Then a full minute.

Fye frowned at the screen, unease settling in. He was about to speak again when Makai finally broke the silence.

“…How is my sister?”

Fye’s eyes widened. Even without seeing him, he could picture the Spirit Prince’s expression. The stiffness in his posture. The way he would avoid eye contact even now. The careful restraint in his voice, betraying more than he intended.

Lord Eden’s words from earlier echoed faintly in Fye’s mind. Of a childhood steeped in loss. Of a Prince raised without warmth, without reassurance. Of a boy who had learned to bury concern beneath silence.

A gentle smile touched Fye’s lips.

“Her Highness is doing well,” he said warmly. “She has been separated from the rest of her team, but do not worry. Sir Kazuo is with her.”

Makai scoffed quietly. “How reassuring, Master Oracle. Knowing my sister is under the protection of that womaniser.”

Fye laughed softly. “Sir Kazuo is not quite as terrible as he presents himself. And if it helps, I spoke to them last night and again this morning. They are currently en route to Aquarius Castle.”

“…Hn.” He did not ask whether Mika knew he was coming. He did not ask whether she was worried. “That is all.”

“Of course,” Fye replied gently. “You are always welcome to ask, Your Highness.”

The connection closed.

Makai lowered his hand and resumed his pace, expression once again composed, guarded and unreadable. But for the briefest moment, the tension in his shoulders eased.

***

Mika crossed the threshold of Aquarius Castle with measured grace.

Her steps were steady, unhurried, as though she were not walking into the heart of a hostile Kingdom, escorted by armed men, but merely attending a formal summons long expected. Kazuo walked at her side, his posture loose, his expression unreadable. Behind them followed Commandant Ren and his men, their formation precise as they led the pair deeper into the castle toward the Audience Chamber.

From the moment Ren had informed them of King Lewis’s invitation, Mika had known something was wrong.

An audience granted so easily, so abruptly, reeked of calculation. On the journey through the forest, she had quietly asked Kazuo what their contingency was now that stealth had been replaced by ceremony. His answer had been infuriatingly simple.

Play along.

Gather information.

Do not strike first.

The great doors of the Audience Chamber loomed ahead, flanked by two soldiers standing rigid at attention.

Ren stepped forward. The guards saluted sharply.

“Welcome back, Commandant Ren.”

Ren returned the salute. “I have brought His Majesty the guests he requested.”

One of the guards cast a curious glance toward the pair behind him. His gaze lingered on Mika a fraction too long. She resisted the instinct to shift beneath it.

Her hair fell carefully over her ears, secured with discreet pins. Gloves concealed her nails. Every precaution had been taken to obscure her identity as a Spirit. Still, the unease did not fade. Ren and his men knew what she was.

The question was whether they would reveal it.

The doors creaked open.

Cold air swept out to meet them, carrying with it a chill that sank into Mika’s bones. She stepped forward, senses sharpening as her eyes adjusted to the dim interior.

The Audience Chamber was vast and imposing, its scale designed to dwarf those who entered. But it was not the size that unsettled her.

It was the details.

The faint metallic tang beneath the incense and burning charcoal. Blood, masked but not erased. A dark maroon stain on the crimson carpet before the throne. And the way Ren’s men grew increasingly tense with every step they took closer to the dais.

Mika’s gaze lifted slowly.

A man sat upon the throne, his form partially swallowed by shadow. One elbow rested against the armrest, fingers tapping impatiently, sharp nails striking wood in a steady, deliberate rhythm. Green-grey eyes watched them with predatory focus.

Ren dropped to one knee. His men followed suit.

Mika and Kazuo remained at the rear, heads inclined just enough to satisfy protocol.

“Your Majesty,” Ren said evenly. “I have brought the guests who have travelled from distant lands, as per your request.”

Silence followed.

The tapping continued.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Mika’s pulse quickened. She focused her gaze on the stained carpet, grounding herself as sweat gathered faintly at her brow. She had heard the rumours of King Lewis XIII in Luyas. Of a ruler both brilliant and ruthless. A man who did not hesitate to obliterate enemies in the dark, leaving nothing behind.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The sound stopped.

Mika lifted her head.

The King was looking directly at her.

The chill that followed was visceral. Her blood ran cold beneath the weight of his stare, her spine stiffening as instinct screamed at her to prepare for violence. To her right, Kazuo had straightened, his posture rigid, eyes locked onto the throne with open hostility.

For a fleeting moment, Mika was certain blood would be spilled.

Then a voice cut through the tension.

“Your Majesty,” Ren said, rising to his feet. “If I may. These guests have travelled far to request an audience. It would be fitting to hear them, at the very least.”

Every eye turned to him.

The King’s gaze sharpened, his expression darkening. Ren met it without flinching, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed him.

At last, King Lewis spoke.

“Very well,” he said, his voice low and husky. “Welcome to the Kingdom of Aquarius. It is… unexpected, to receive visitors at such a time. Still, any who enter my Kingdom are entitled to hospitality.”

“It is our honour to meet you, Your Majesty,” Mika said, bowing smoothly. Kazuo followed a heartbeat later, less enthusiastic.

A slow smile curved the King’s lips.

“Then join me for dinner,” he said lightly. “What say you, Princess?”

The word struck like a blade.

Mika’s breath caught. Kazuo stiffened beside her. Around them, Ren and his men froze, shock rippling through their ranks.

Princess.

“How…” The question died on Mika’s tongue.

“Well?” King Lewis pressed. “Your answer.”

She forced herself to breathe. To think. To remain standing.

“It would be my honour,” Mika replied evenly. “Your Majesty.”

Her voice did not waver. Her posture did not betray her. She spoke as though this were expected. As though she had never been anything else.

Kazuo stared at her. It was not the answer that unsettled him.

It was how she said it.

Gone was the careless lilt she carried when she teased him. Gone was the bluntness, the unguarded honesty, the Spirit girl who spoke first and worried later. What stood before the throne now was someone else entirely.

Her posture was flawless. Her voice steady, measured, carrying the quiet authority of someone raised to command rather than ask. Even the way she inclined her head was precise, ingrained, unmistakably noble.

That’s not an act, Kazuo realised. A chill crept up his spine. She didn’t learn that on the road.

The thought struck him harder than the King’s gaze ever could.

“So be it,” the King said briskly. “Commandant Ren, escort the Lady to the guest chambers until dinner.”

Ren hesitated. Only briefly.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

He approached Mika and extended his hand. “It is customary in Aquarius for a gentleman to escort a lady. May I?”

She studied him for a moment before placing her hand in his.

Kazuo followed closely as they turned to leave, Ren’s men closing ranks around them.

Then the King spoke again.

“I invited the Princess,” he said coldly. “I said nothing of her companion.”

The room exploded into motion.

Guards seized Kazuo from behind, slamming him to the floor, a blade pressed to his throat as his arms were wrenched behind his back.

“Stop!” Mika cried, wrenching against Ren’s grip. “Let him go!”

Ren held fast, his jaw clenched.

A boot struck Kazuo’s side.

Mika spun, fury blazing in her eyes. “This is unacceptable,” she snapped. “Is this how you treat your guests, Your Majesty? What abysmal manners for a King.”

Silence fell.

Even Ren sucked in a sharp breath.

No one challenged King Lewis XIII.

Mika stood her ground.

At last, the King rose.

“How irritating,” he said softly. “To be lectured by a child.”

His finger jabbed toward Ren. “Remove them. Lock them up. Separately.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The guards dragged Kazuo away. Ren tightened his hold on Mika as she struggled, pulling her toward the exit.

As they were forced from the chamber, King Lewis’s nails resumed their tapping.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

***

Ren had never, in all his years within the castle, seen his uncle look so unsettled.

King Lewis was many things — feared, calculating, ruthless when necessary — but rarely shaken. Yet moments ago, beneath that mask of authority, something had cracked. And it had cracked at the sight of her.

The Spirit girl.

No.

The Princess.

Ren’s mind replayed the way the King had addressed her. Not Spirit. Not trespasser.

Princess.

The word had not been spoken in error.

His grip tightened unconsciously around Mika’s arm as they descended the stone corridor toward the dungeon. The torches along the wall flickered, shadows stretching and bending against cold granite.

Suddenly, Ren stopped.

The men ahead halted at once.

“Is something wrong, Commandant?” one of them asked.

Ren’s voice lowered, controlled. “Proceed ahead. I will join you shortly. I have… unfinished business with Her Highness.”

The corridor fell into stunned silence.

His men exchanged glances. No one questioned him. No one dared.

The Vice-Commandant cleared his throat and gave a curt nod. “Understood. We will see the other trespasser secured.”

Within moments, they were gone, dragging Kazuo with them.

The corridor emptied.

Only Ren and Mika remained.

The silence grew heavy.

Mika felt it first — the shift in the air. The isolation. The absence of witnesses.

Her pulse quickened.

Ren had not yet turned to face her.

Then, without warning, he did.

Fast.

So fast she barely registered the movement before his hands were no longer gripping her arm but braced firmly against her shoulders.

His turquoise eyes burned into hers.

“Answer me truthfully,” he demanded quietly. “Are you truly the Spirit Princess? The one lost to the world for years?”

Mika swallowed.

For years, Lord Ranfel had shielded her identity. Whispers had existed, yes. Suspicions. But no proof.

Now proof stood in front of him.

Her thoughts raced.

If I lie, he will know.

If I tell the truth, I may doom us.

But if I say nothing… Kazuo suffers.

She drew in a steady breath.

“I am Princess Mika,” she said.

Ren’s grip did not loosen.

“I heard the Princess lost her memories. If that is true, what proof do you have that you are who you claim to be?”

The challenge was not cruel. It was desperate.

Slowly, Mika closed her eyes.

When she spoke again, her voice carried no tremor.

“There was once a Spirit King named Ferid.”

Ren’s hands fell from her shoulders.

She did not look at him. Her gaze lowered to the stone beneath them.

“He was not born into royalty. He grew up in the slums. He knew hunger. He knew filth. He knew the cruelty of survival. Yet he refused to steal. Even when starving, he would not take what was not his.”

Ren’s expression shifted.

These were not tales told in human courts. These were stories buried in Spirit history.

“He fell in love with the Spirit Princess,” Mika continued. “When he became King, he did not seek conquest. He sought unity. He proposed peace between the Dragoon and the Witches — races bound by generations of hatred.”

Ren listened without interruption.

“He travelled alone to the South. Alone. No escort. No guards. He faced the Dragoon Leader and accepted a duel — one man against an army.”

Mika’s jaw tightened.

“He fought until sunrise.”

Her emerald eyes lifted, locking onto Ren’s.

“He did not fight for dominance. He fought to prove that peace was worth blood.”

The torches crackled softly.

“He united them,” she went on. “By his Fourth Reign, he extended that peace to the Human World. By his Sixth… my twin brother and I were born.”

Ren’s breathing slowed.

“My father fought until his final breath to protect that peace,” Mika said quietly. “He died preventing the current Spirit Queen from leaving the castle.”

The corridor felt colder now.

She stepped closer — not as a captive.

As a sovereign.

“Something is wrong here, Ren,” she said, his name deliberate. “Your King is afraid. And whatever he fears is tied to the Spirit World.”

Her voice softened, but it did not weaken.

“This is no longer about Aquarius alone. It affects every Kingdom. Every race.”

She held his gaze.

“Will you help us?”

***

Makai unsheathed his sword the moment Aquarius Knights closed in around them.

They had been careless for only a heartbeat. The castle had come into view through the thinning forest, and in that moment, the ambush sprang.

Steel glinted from every direction.

Makai did not flinch.

Annoying as he found humans, he had long since learned not to judge them as one collective weakness. Lord Eden had proven that. The Master Oracle as well.

But these Knights were not Eden’s men.

“No one is permitted near the castle!” one of them barked. “How did you breach the barrier, intruders?”

Rinda scoffed, planting one hand on her hip. “Sealing an entire Kingdom under a magical barrier makes you the suspicious ones. What exactly are you hiding?”

The Knights did not dignify her with an answer.

They charged.

Rinda’s knives flashed first — a scatter of steel cutting through the air. The Knights deflected most, but the distraction was enough.

A silver arc cleaved forward.

Leo’s axe swept low and wide, stopping a breath from a Knight’s throat. The blade did not bite. Instead, Leo pivoted and drove his boot into the man’s chest, sending him crashing into a tree with bone-rattling force.

Makai stepped in as another Knight lunged.

His blade remained sheathed.

A single, precise strike of his fist connected with the man’s jaw. The crack echoed. The Knight collapsed.

Within moments, the forest floor was littered with unconscious bodies.

Rinda blew stray hair from her eyes. “They asked for it.”

She cast Makai a sideways look. “I’m surprised you restrained yourself.”

Makai gave a short, humourless exhale. “I am not a barbarian. There is no value in killing those who know nothing.”

“Not yet,” Leo muttered.

He crouched and seized one of the groaning Knights by the collar, dragging him upright.

“Speak,” Leo said evenly. “Or I will make this considerably unpleasant.”

The man’s eyes widened in terror.

Before he could answer—

Priit. Priit.

Their earpieces crackled.

“This is Leo. Master Oracle?”

Fye’s voice came through, faintly breathless. “Apologies. Is this a poor time?”

“We were gathering information,” Makai replied. “Report.”

There was a brief hesitation.

“Lord Ranfel has confessed.”

Silence.

Makai’s grip tightened on the hilt of his sword.

“He has confessed to everything,” Fye continued. “Lord Eden persuaded him.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Rinda said quickly. “It means we can stop dancing around this Kingdom.”

“There is… another matter.”

Makai’s eyes hardened.

“I have lost contact with Her Highness,” Fye said carefully. “And with the others. My assumption is that they have been detained by King Lewis.”

The air seemed to compress.

Leo glanced at Makai instinctively.

Rinda went still.

Makai did not react.

Not outwardly.

His shoulders remained squared. His expression unchanged.

“What did Ranfel confess to?” he asked calmly.

Fye faltered at that.

He had expected anger. Urgency. Demand.

Instead, the Prince’s voice was controlled. Almost cold.

But Fye had learned enough about Makai to recognise the shift. When the Prince sounded most detached, he was anything but.

“Master Oracle,” Makai repeated.

“Yes. Apologies.” Fye cleared his throat. “The incident dates back twenty-five years. It concerns King Lewis. And the Spirit World.”

Makai’s gaze drifted toward the distant castle walls barely visible beyond the trees.

His sister was inside.

And the past was rising with it.

“It began,” Fye said quietly, “with a bargain.”