Heavy…
The sweet darkness of my nightmares were slowly pierced by rays of warm sunlight. Clashing swords and screams of fear were replaced by birds cawing to the point I wanted to consume them in shadows. My dormant mind quietly acknowledged the weight I felt on my chest with each breath.
A few moments after Veronica left, I grabbed a book off one of the shelves and settled down in bed. Orion must have climbed on my chest when I finally passed out like usual.
He is definitely going on a diet!!!
Drowsily, I placed my hand on Orian hoping to rouse him awake but silk was felt instead of fur. Is he under the sheet?
Half-drowsy, I reached out to rouse him. "Orian, wake up buddy. Come on now."
I was confused when my hand clung to smooth silk and not fur. Did he get underneath the sheet?
My confusion furthered when the thing beneath the sheet resisted my touch no matter how much I poked and prodded – that was until a faint moan rose from a woman's throat. I instantly froze, realization striking as I bolted upright. My cheeks felt warm at the sight of what I'd been groggily groping.
Nyxis toyingly smiled at my horrified expression. I watched the crimson sheet fall free from her bare chest. My first thought was that she wanted to surprise me during the night, but I'd been too exhausted to notice after my interaction with Veronica.
She leaned and kissed my lips, "I wanted to claim what you owed me for earlier, but you were sleeping soundly. You don't mind that I stayed here, do you?"
Her fragrant rose and lilac perfume tickled my nose almost as if inviting me. The look in her emerald eyes told me that our minds wanted the same thing. Soon our bodies became one in a melding of ecstasy after being apart for so long. I grimaced a bit when she dug her nails deep into my back. She giggled when I grasped her hair and pulled hard.
Her sweet moans continued to drive me further until the very end. Gods… I'm in love.
Afterward, I stroked her hair while she rested on my chest. I told her every thought that weighed on my shoulders. I felt her lips press against my hand when I finally finished.
"Momma mentioned something about your sister last night when I came to surprise you," Nyxis said. "She also said you weren't really your mildly bubbly self afterward."
A dry chuckle escaped clasped lips. "Can you really blame me for that? Seventeen years… Seventeen years, I've carried this anger and hatred toward them. Three years of blood stain my hands in that arena, only for Veronica to appear out of nowhere with a summons from our uncle."
"I…" I shook my head, "I don't know how I should feel, Nyx."
She wrapped her arms around me and kissed my cheek hoping to comfort me. Do you plan to go? To Ironclad, I mean?"
The thought did burn inside me. Part of me longed to see my uncle – if only to drive a sword through him for his betrayal. Was this fragile happiness truly worth trading for revenge.
"I don't think I can or would ever return to that life," I sighed.
Nyxis kissed my forehead and smiled with such quiet, yet elegant grace. Silver strands of hair fell to frame her face, and in that moment all I wanted was to hold her until our hearts beat in rhythm till the very end. Our pasts, so alike in their scars, had brought us together. These past four years had been nothing short of… magical.
There was, however, one small matter.
Despite her youthful appearance, Nyxis was nearing her fifty-eighth winter in a few months, while I had just entered my twenty-seventh last month. Elven blood slowed her aging, granting her eternal beauty that endured centuries. Even as a halfling, that same blood in me promised a loon life – assuming I didn't die first. Age didn't necessarily mean little when eternity was stretched out on a blank canvas ahead of us both.
Now could be the wrong time, but I have been putting this off for long enough.
I took a steadying breath, but my voice bore anxiety. "I've been thinking…"
"That's dangerous you know," Nyxis teased with a sly grin.
I took her hands into mine, heart threatening to burst through my chest. "I want your honest opinion."
She tilted her head. "Okaaay…"
I hesitated. Fumbled over the words I wanted to say. Then I forced myself to ask. "Nyxis… what do you think about us getting… married?"
For a moment she looked down, her face hidden and shoulders shaking. Laughter. I knew she'd –
"Yes I'll marry you!" she shouted to the rafters, cutting off my downward spiral.
I laced the strings of my custom boots, their steel lining making them difficult to cut through. Across the room, I watched Nyxis tug her hair free from a red nightshirt before pulling on cloth trousers. She adjusted her belt and finally slipped into the knee-high boots I'd given her as a second anniversary gift. My face flushed red again when I caught her smiling at me as she zipped them.
I could hardly believe such a stunning woman – the one I loved, the one I had fought and bled beside – had agreed to be my wife.
I wonder if she knew that I would ask… eventually.
Pulling a black cloak embroidered with white flowers over her shoulders, Nyxis turned toward me. "At the very least, I think you should consider hearing out what your uncle wants."
I laughed. "I'm guessing you have your own theory as to why he would send Veronica to fetch me. Let's hear it."
She stepped close, fattening the top buttons of my shirt. "Some of my customers mentioned that Ironclad will be hosting its annual Winter Festival in two months' time. Their words also carry hints that the royal family of Breura will attend."
She brushed strands of hair behind my ear. "Such an event shouldn't draw their attention. My guess? Both kings are obviously planning something big that could affect both kingdoms."
That would match the rumors I've heard from my shadows. Still, why would they need me? It's still all too strange…
Nyxis turned toward the table and collected the four misericordes I carried and sheathed each one. "If you'd like, I could come with you. I do have some business there anyway." She smirked. "Besides, you promised me a date when you returned. A new restaurant opened, and I intend to try it."
Before I could answer, Marie's voice rang from the hall with the sound of her fist rasping the door. "Jakul, you have a visitor. They're waiting downstairs."
Visitor? What now? Was it possibly Veronica coming for an answer?
I glanced toward the windowsill, but Orian wasn't perched there as he often was in the morning. Closing my eyes, I reached along the black tether of our soul-bond, searching for him. Come on, where are you?!
At last his view came into focus among a relentless fog: from a rooftop overlooking Siegfried's front gate of logs. A gilded carriage drawn by white mares waited below, their manes braided with ribbons. Leaning against the door, arms crossed, was Veronica. Her posture screamed Mother's – stern but patient, as if waiting for Father to admit fault.
A bittersweet taste filled my mouth. She actually kept her word, just as our parents often had.
"By the way," I freed myself from Orian's mind and found Nyx next to the door, " I had Orian keep an eye on your sister."
"I'll see you at the gate after getting what I need from the shop," she disappeared down the steps.
Now then, this 'visitor' needs to be dealt with.
As I adjusted my cloak, my eyes caught one of the few photographs that survived the fire THAT day. A family portrait: Mother, Father, Veronica, and me on the day Grandfather named Father heir to the crown. We had all dressed in our finest, smiled for the photographer. Then, we celebrated with an elaborate dinner.
Veronica kept complaining that her dress was itchy. Mother would get on her for trying to take it off at the dinner table. While father just grinned watching the two wrestle one another with smiles of their own… I wish the both of you were still here… maybe things would've been different.
I forced myself away from reliving the memory and descended the stairs. The common room already looked repaired. The damage from yesterday was erased as if nothing had happened.
"Bout time your smelly ass got outta bed," a deep voice rumbled.
I quickly spun, a misericorde sliding from my cloak, to find a towering man standing near Momma Joan's desk. His bronzed skin gleamed, his single amber eye alight with amusement of what could come. A white cloth wrapped over his right eye allowing his shaven head to be seen. A long black braid hung from his chin.
Ámmôs Fŷlakas. Guardian of Sand.
His dark blue tunic bore intricate symbols of his tribe across his masculine figure, rugged trousers tucked into calf-high boots. At each side rested twin curved sabres; a massive seax strapped across his back. Ornate red-and-gold scabbards reflected the light upon all who stared. Weapons befitting a master who knew how to use them.
Memories of battles fought against and side-by-side flooded me. A grin tugged at my lips.
The man raised his hands in the air, booming with laughter. "I'm unarmed! Well sort of. Still jumpy as ever, I see."
"You of all people should know how it is," I retorted, sheathing the blade. "What else is one supposed to do when a scoundrel is standing in front of you? A smelly one at that."
I let shadows swirl around me, stepping through them to appear at his side. Then I pulled him into a hug. "It's good to see you're still kicking, Zeke."
Such a man to earn my respect was the infamous Zeke Bernd Silverwind – the leader of Dämmerung. The mercenary band that had, by pure chance, saved me from Alabasta's "care." I remembered the chaos of that day: cages shattered, blades flashing, spells colliding, and roars of battle. In such a frenzy, I had hunted Alabasta down and returned his cruelty with blood before displaying it for all to see.
The look in Zeke's eyes when I stumbled out covered in gore and holding my prize still makes me laugh. Later he admitted he'd thought some daemon had been unleashed.
"Tell me," I asked, still grinning, "what brings you to Siegfried? Last I heard you and the others were in Brucia."
Zeke just shrugged. "Been back a couple weeks." He tore into a strip of jerky. "Brucia was nothing but a shit show, same as always. Nobles fattening themselves on gilded thrones. Though I'll admit, a few were… entertaining."
That was Zeke for ya. Entertainment usually meant brawls, sometimes with entire guard posts. A warrior through and through. Strong-willed, stubborn to a fault, and somehow – despite everything – a friend I trusted with my life
"Don't tell me," I teased, "some Brucian knights handed you your ass on a silver platter!!" .
"Now, now boys," Momma Joan interrupted as she stepped from behind the counter, sliding between us. "You can insult each other later." She turned her sharp eyes on me. "Nyxis told me you finally asked her to marry you. Congratulations!"
My face became heated instantly as Zeke bellowed and clapped me on the back. Momma had been hounded about marriage, back when Nyx and I were only two years in. I'd doubted her then. I was afraid Nyx would grow tired of me or the secrets I carried. But she hadn't. She was my anchor – maybe one of very few.
Momma hugged us both tightly before pressing two wrapped meat pies into our hands. "You be careful, the both of you."
As we stepped into the street, I questioned Zeke about something Momma had said. "Tell me, what did she mean when she said 'the both of you'?"
Zeke smirked with a mouthful of pie. "It's just as it sounds. Scar and I plan to come with you."
I stopped short, "Would that be a good idea?"
"Did you think," he turned, eye gleaming with joy, "that we'd fear some petty noble who put a bounty on our heads?"
Well… yes. Obviously!!!
Zeke's booming laugh carried us toward the gate.
"Then please tell me, oh Wise One," I said dryly, "what's more important than avoiding bounty hunters?"
He shook his head, "That you finally asked a certain someone we know to marry ya. Congratulations, mate!!!"
His laughter echoed again, loud and grating. "Hard to believe it took you longer to ask that than to take a man's hand!"
"Ho– " I began, but he cut me off.
"Momma Joan filled me in on everything that occurred yesterday. Nicely done, for a sniveling whelp."
I punched his shoulder. "I should've killed you when the chance was present."
"Maybe," he grinned showing teeth, "but then I'd have missed this moment. Damn.. guess Fang won our bet. The scaly bastard."
Fang isn't called the Gilded Dragon for no reason – brains as sharp as his claws, and strength to match.
"Hey," Zeke sneered, "you wouldn't be thinking I made a dumb bet now, would ya?"
I smiled, nudging his shoulder. "Perish the thought. The great leader of Dämmerung making a poor decision? Impossible."."
A commotion stirred at the gates.
Fang's towering frame rose above the crowd of onlookers. I gently pushed through until the scene came into view: the knights had boxed in the members of Dämmerung. Their swords caught the early morning sun. Orders barked sharp enough to cut the air.
Fang and a slim woman in a red bandana stood at the center – telling the others to stay in formation. The knights circled like wolves weighing the kill.
Two cadets twitched at the edges, nerves itching. They lunged, only to stumble back at their commander's shouts. My gaze flicked to Veronica. She remained still as a ghost, but her eyes met mine briefly before the duo tried once more. The cadets had finally caught the scent of blood and charged.
Imbeciles… too dumb to realize how stupid they are.
I was swallowed in shadows once more. Time slowed to a snail's pace. Zeke smiled when I stepped out of the darkness and caught both blades bare-handed. Blood welled up and trailed my arms. The Farkas knight bared her lupine canines and flicked a quick glance to her partner. They twisted, yanked, and tried to slice their way free – nothing moved.
The aether flowing through my palms became as if tempered steel. On the third wrench, both blades snapped, and I sent the cadets sprawling.
With the broken halves raised, I was ready to finish it there and then.
"That's enough, brother." Veronica's sword found my throat, voice calmed and collected. "They've learned their lesson."
My form became a shadowed mist. Her blade slipped through as her eyes widened in shock. In the blink of an eye, I drove the jagged points down – one burying into the earth beside the Farkas's right ear, the other lodged between her partner's head and shoulder. The stink of piss hit the air as they quickly realized how close death came for them.
"Now is enough." My growl rolled from Veronica to the trembling cadets
I wrenched the blades free and stepped aside. Damn cadets – pride seems to blind them every time, same as when Father drilled us. No matter the race.
Before the tension could settle, heavy scaled arms crushed me in a bear hug. "BOSS!!" Fang bellowed from deep within his gut. His gray-green scales glittering like jewels under the sun
Around us, the members of Dämmerung erupted – voices hammering the square like drums playing in rhythm: "Boss! Boss! Boss!"
The crowd's chant when I faded into the shadows once more. I rose from the epicenter of the congregated darkness, a misplaced smile tugging at my lips. My steps carried me toward Veronica, who waited beside an older knight. People moved aside without a single word. The three leaders of Dämmerung – Zeke, Fang, Scarlett – led many in a saluted stance with a fist over their left shoulder. Though some chose to kneel.
I had pleaded with each one to not act in such manners. No authority belonged to me, yet they willingly chose to treat me with such devotion like they do the trio.
I stopped before Veronica, eyeing the knights flanking her. "Though I hate this decision, I'm willing to tag along to see the old man."
Veronica nodded, but her gaze looked past me. "They'll watch over Siegfried and her people while I'm gone. Too many cutthroats prowl these lands for easy marks."
"Zion," I pointed toward a shaman with red hair, "take three others. I want barriers surrounding Siegfried in a 200ft perimeter. Make the first two alarms while the third a ward."
He saluted and left with the rattle of his bone necklace crackling in song.
I turned to a sharp-eyed brunette woman. "Aifric, you and those specialized in stealth set up hideaways and traps in the surrounding area."
My gaze swept over the rest. "Everyone else – aid where you can."
Orders carried, I gestured toward Fang. "See if Nyxis needs help."
The towering hrogan hissed as he lumbered off. "Fang don't like mean lady."
When the last detail was set in stone, I approached Zeke and Scarlett.
Scarlett stood equally beside Zeke, presence sharp as steel. She wore a long-sleeved shirt cut so that the shoulders were exposed. The collage of red and white fabric ending just beneath her chest. A pair of dark green pants hugged her curved frame, and tucked neatly into red shin guards strapped over traditional boots caked with road dust. Stands of tight blonde braids were buried underneath her bandana. Rings of gold pierced her left ear.
Two curved scimitars hung gently at her hips. Their hilts catching the sun in a glint of warning to those who cross her. One her left forearm, a leather vambrace bore the marks of long use, protection and memory worn into the hide. Such an attire was made for speed compared to defense.
Like Zeke, she hailed from the same Ámmôs Fŷlakas tribe. Her blood carried the same fire and discipline that shaped him. Together, the duo made a striking combination of a warrior's lineage and lived strength.
She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around me before pressing a kiss to my cheek. "It's good to see you, Boss. Zeke tells me you worked up the courage to ask you know who to marry ya."
"I knew you could do it," she chuckled.
Her eyes told more than mere words. She had been there when I woke up in Amber Lilac. My body wreaked in pain, too weak even to lift my head. For three nights she had kept vigil, driving off anyone who sought revenge. She guarded my broken frame as though her own life depended on it.
I shook my head. "Let me guess – you placed a bet against me."
Scarlett laughed, sliding an arm around Zeke's waist. "Quite the opposite. Unlike my dear husband, I trusted Fang's instincts. Turns out he was right."
She planted a kiss on Zeke's cheek, grinning at his scowl. "I told him time and again to go with Fang's intuition. Unfortunately, he and most of the others decided not to listen."
I left them with a small smile and walked toward Veronica.
The eldest knight stood at her side. Armored hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword. Its weight was so natural it seemed like an extension of his arm. Age had carved deep lines into his face, yet nothing about him screamed soft. His hazel-blue eyes were sharp, confident – the kind that had stared down death too many times to forget it.
Veronica stepped forward, arms half-raising as if to embrace me. She stopped when I lifted a hand.
"You're still an enemy to me," I said evenly. "The only reason you stand here is because I've chosen to see the old man."
Her shoulders fell, sadness flickering in her gaze. "Very well, brother."
She turned toward the old knight. "Lieutenant Combs, send a messenger to Ironclad letting his Majesty know that Jakul will be joining us – with guests."
Combs reluctantly gave a stiff bow before striding toward the horses. The two cadets I had nearly cut down stood waiting, silent, and beyond pale.
Veronica made sure they departed, then shook her head. "That was… a little intense."
She drew a long breath – voice softening. "Now, I suppose the only thing left is introductions."
The carriage door opened with a groan, and the young lepus stepped out grinning wide.
Blue hair spilled in untamed waves around his face. Each strand catching the sun as he moved. His features were youthful – late teens at most – but dull orange eyes carried a weary depth that didn't belong to someone so young.
A leather brigandine covered his torso. Oblong steel plates were riveted into place for ease of movement. Hide bracers scarred from bowstring snaps shielded his forearms, while wolf-headed poleyns guarded his knees. Across his back stretched a massive black bow, ivory spiral etched down to a taut string. A quiver sat firm against his spine.
Hilts of two daggers gleamed from each calf, ready for swift hands.
He met my eyes without flinching. "Luca Marino Agnor, eldest son of the Agnor Clan. It's nice to make your acquaintance."
A hiss like a drawn blade coiled from the carriage.
The lamia slid forward, her presence swallowing the space around her. Crimson steel layered her torso – a painted serpent coiled across her breastplate in shades of green, its fanged head glaring from beneath her chin. Chainmail glimmered beneath, pressed against her bright orange-white scaled flesh. An angular pauldron shaped like a dragon jutted upward from her left shoulder.
Her aqua-green hair spilled wild around her battle-hardened, scaled face. Her bright yellow eyes glowed with predatory focus. Behind her, nearly five feet of serpentine muscle shimmered in the sun, her tail arched like a scythe ready to fall.
My gut twisted. Why did she have to be from the Ijā tribe?
Her voice was like potent venom. "It's good to finally meet my Kin-killer,"
Luca stepped quickly between us, venom dripping from her fangs. "Easy Casteilla! Remember why we're here."
I shook my head. "Ijā, why am I not surprised?"
Her hiss split the air between us. "Don't say that name, Kin-killer!"
I ignored her and waited for the Breuraian noble to stride gracefully out, my patience quickly thinned. "You can stay in there on your ass all you want. I could care less either way as long as you can listen."
Grovel crunched.
The last figure calmly stepped from the carriage – a Vulpes girl.
Purple hair hung just past her shoulders, tied back with a black band. Pale skin glowed against a violet dress cut from fine cloth gingerly rested underneath a white cloak draped elegantly across her shoulders. She looked no older than her eighteenth winter, her blue eyes burned with arrogant poise.
She tilted her head, smirking defiantly. "Damn. I was hoping the rumors were true. Then again, he does look like a flea-bitten dog just waiting to be put down."
Zeke and Scarlett's laughter rose behind me.
The girl extended her hand with palm down, as if expecting worship. "I am Ashe Thalira Udreth, child of the Breuraian King and Queen Udreth. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mongrel."
Choices began to formulate in my mind. I wonder how she'll take to missing an eye.
She mockingly giggled. "Don't tell me you're clueless with proper etiquette. Wait – I didn't give you a proper command. Come on, boy, kiss my hand. Who's a good dog? Come on now."
I decided to play along with her demand and leaned forward, delight brimming with each inch. Then I stopped, grinned, and said: "Shove it up your ass."
Laughter roared behind me once more, and even Luca stifled a chuckle.
I turned toward Veronica as the princess whispered, stunned: "I'm a princess."
Before I could chide Veronica, Fang's voice thundered across the square. "BOSS!"
He stomped into view, massive crate in his arms. "Mean lady tell Fang what to do. Fang eat mean lady, that okay?"
Nyx's voice cracked across Fang's booming question like a whip. "You drop that crate, and mean lady will be tanning your hide."
I froze stiff, my eyes drawn to her.
She looked every inch like the elven goddess of war. A leather corset was fused with an iron plate shaped to her chest, both strong and elegant. A layered vambrace covered her right arm, running down to her right wrist – matched by a rounded pauldron. A silken cloak lashed to her shoulders. A blade rested on her left hip, quiet but undeniable, like a threat that didn't need to be spoken.
In that moment, Nyxis was Kasula Salihan made flesh – mixture of beauty and wrath embodied
She took my wrists in her hands, emerald eyes dropping to my palms. "What happened to your hands, Jakul?"
I looked down and finally noticed what she had seen. My palms slick with blood and cut deep. The pain barely registered; I flexed my fingers, more annoyed than wounded.
Her frown deepened – a faint green glow seeped into my hands. "You should've came to me instead of letting blood pour like this. You risk infection… these are not shallow wounds."
"It's just a scratch, Nyx. Besides, I don't matter if–"
Her slap cut me off, fire exploding across my left cheek.
The world around us went silent.
I placed my hand over hers, still resting on my cheek. "I know it doesn't matter to you that you get injured, but… You matter to me."
Tears trailed down her face. "I know I'm exaggerating, but I can't stand to hear you say–"
I silenced her with a kiss, resting my chin on her head afterward. "I promise. No matter what, I'll come to you first when injured."
Shadows curled across my palms, stitching the wounds shut. Black threads tightened. Sizzling smoke rose as flesh was sealed smoothly. I flexed my hands once more, wiping the last of the blood against my pants.
Nyxis pressed her lips against mine. "I'll take your word."
I nodded, then turned to the crate Fang had carried. My palm pressed against the wood. "Occulto."
Shadows swelled outward, tendrils snaring the crate until it sank into the abyss. The ground laid bare again when the shadows faded.
"It'll be safe and sound in Penumbra for the time being."
Veronica nodded after confirming that everything was ready for departure. "The horses are ready for the trip. With everything considered, we should arrive at Ironclad within a week."
I nodded in agreement, except for the fact that the entities in the darkness would use such time to act. "You will follow my commands, understand?"
The princess stepped forward in defiance. "You have to follow what I say and I say we follow what Lady Veronica orders. Besides, this is Ironclad territory."
Momma Joan's agitated voice boomed behind me, sending a shiver down my spine. "Siegfried and her lands are independent from Ironclad. As such, if it belonged to anyone of power it'd be Jakul."
The duo stood facing each other = their minds ignoring their positions. "As the king's advisor, you know that Siegfried is considered out of Ironclad's reach, Veronica. That being said, I don't care if he is the king. He'll always be viewed as your and Jakul's uncle."
Zeke, Scarlett, the Breuraian representatives, the knights except the older ones, and the remaining Dämmerung members yelled in unison as their surprised eyes gazed at me. "King von Knight is your Uncle!"
Each one went silent when Momma's agitated gaze. "You will follow Jakul's commands to the letter. Mainly because he knows this area like the back of his hand."
I noticed a small box in her hands. What is this?
Nyx withdrew from my grasp, a smile etched beautifully. One-by-one, the people of Siegfried stepped forward behind Momma. Smiles brimmed from their faces, quickly killing the idea that they were sending me off for good for good this time.
Stalo, his weathered face split with a proud grin and fresh soot caked thick, stepped forward and offered a sheathed gladius. The scabbard was black leather bound with white clasps. The hilt was a marvel to look upon. Spiraled thorns carved into tanned leather – a pommel shaped like a canine of sorts. Rubies were set in its eyes and a line of crystals running down between.
"It really ain't much for all you've done," he said with a dignified chuckle, "but I think you'll find 'er worthy to use. A blade fit more for an experienced warrior than a musty market stand."
Hesitantly, I drew it slowly. The weapon seemed to sing as it left its slumber. Obsidian steel consumed the sun – runes glowing bright blue. A river of crimson glimmered along its edge. It felt unnaturally alive in my hands – terrible, yet perfect in every way.
Stalo's voice deepened, seeing my awe. "It's forged with Zutryx. Very rare to find in all the realms and stronger than most common metals. Enchanted with old dwarven magic… Death's Hand – she can cut what walks in flesh and what lingers in spirit. Three more crystals wait on the hilt for you to carve in your own enchantments."
I was still in utter awe. "Tartarus," he pridefully boomed. "A blade fit enough for the ol' Daemon Lord it's named after."
The sword thrummed with such power, an uneasy weight brushing my mind as if testing its fortitude – daring me to submit. I tightened my grip.
"She'll do nicely." I bowed my head to the old smith. "Though, it's more than I truly deserve, Stalo."
The old dwarf laughed, eyes crinkling. Nonsense, lad. Though it took me years to craft, I already knew who it was meant for."
Next Sven, limping forward on his winged arm and small canine legs, balanced in his other hand. The weapon shrunk when he tossed it, catching me off guard before it settled neatly in my palms.
"Not as flashy as Stalo's handiwork," Sven said, fanged grin wide, "but may serve to be more versatile."
I gave into his urging and poured mana into it. The staff expanded, clicking and unfolding into a twin-bladed scythe. Black blades jutted from the open jaws of enraged silver skulls at either end. A weapon that was elegantly terrifying.
I spun it once, the air hissing as it cut. The balance was flawless. A natural extension of my own movements.
Sven gave a raspy chuckle. "Crafted to be easily carried, easily hidden, and deadly precise to reap anything foolish enough to stand against you."
I wrapped my arms around them both after placing each new weapon in the small space crafted in Penumbra. "There is no price I can personally give for such weapons crafted by masters of their art. What do I owe you?"
"Nothing," Momma Joan chimed.
When the others stepped back, Momma alone remained. She carried a small wooden box, worn with age. Her hands cradled it as if it were far heavier than it seemed.
Her eyes, normally sharp and commanding, softened as she pressed it toward me. "This rightfully belongs with you."
I took it. It surprisingly felt light, though something in my chest weighed more with each breath. When I lifted the lid, the air seemed to still.
Inside lay a trench coat, simple looking at first. Battered leather, reforged with black mail stitched beneath, steel vambraces built into its sleeves. It was practical–protective. But what struck me was the emblem stitched into the back. The Corrupted Rose. Purified petals bound in daemonic black thorns. My clan's symbol. My father's coat.
I could only stare indefinitely. Such a coat had been thought destroyed – swallowed with so much precious things in the fires of my past. To see it whole again felt like being struck in my heart.
My fingers trembled as I lifted it free. The scent of old leather and smoke clung faintly to it, mingling with something I had long forgotten – warmth or pride, perhaps. Memories of sneaking into Father's study as a boy, trying to slip into its overwhelming sleeves flood in a constant stream. It had always swallowed me whole like a cavernous maw. When he caught me, he would laugh, ruffle my hair and tell me the legacy of our clan's insignia instead of scolding me. His smile then was one of the few unbroken pieces of light that kept me going in the darkness.
Sliding it on now, the coat fitted me without issue. Not too large. Not overwhelming to the point it hindered my movements. Just right. And somehow, that felt heavier on my heart than if it still dwarfed me.
Momma Joan wiped a tear, voice breaking. "Zachariah, I wish you were here now to see your son take up the Corrupted Rose as you always wanted. To see the man he's become." She looked to Veronica. "And your daughter too, Arathorn. She's become a remarkable woman just like you. Strong at heart, yet compassion flows through her intentions."
She sneered gleefully. "Both of you…are no longer the little whelps I used to chase through the courtyard."
Her words pulled the walls of the fortress I've built around my heart. To everyone else I was considered Boss, Lord, a killer, a thug, a savior, and lastly, a daemon made human. To her however, I was still the little rambunctious boy she scolded and shielded without fail. The boy who often cried when no one else was watching.
Damn her, she saw that in me even now.
I bowed my head, jaw tight trying to hold back tears. Vulnerability was a currency that I seldom could afford in the life I've chosen. Yet with the coat's weight now on my shoulders. And her gaze on me, the truth slipped through like the cracks in a water pouch.
This is no gift. It is a mantle passed through five generations of von Knights. A reminder of our history. A demand not for the faint hearted. It was his very shadow, all his mistakes massed together, and his enemies that dwell in the shadows I control – all of it is mine to carry now.
I fastened the coat across my chest with the top two buttons and finally met her eyes, tears flooding. My voice came across softer than I really intended. "Thank you, Momma. I'll wear it as he once did with pride."
Her lips curved into a smile, proud yet trying not to break completely. "Good. Then I can finally rest knowing HIS legacy can live on in you."
Orian circled above wings streaking the sky in darkness. Veronica gestured to a mount. Here. Your horse, brother. I hope you still remember how to ride."
I shook my head, refusing the reins. I looked up to a hovering Orian. "I have Orian."
The princess sneered with glee. "What do you intend to do exactly? Shrink yourself to fit on his back? Have him carry you with rope? You are such a fool."
Her mockery sparked Orian's anger. He descended in shadows, bones cracking as his form twisted. When he landed, he was in his dire wolf form. His crimson eyes burning like uncontained fire. He bared his fangs inches from the princess, sending her sprawling in terror behind her guard. Only my whistle alone drew him back.
I mounted his broad back, offering Nyxis a hand. She smiled and climbed behind me, arms ensnaring my waist.
I glanced over my shoulder at the other. "Keep up if you can."
Orian lunged forward, wind rushing past. Veronica's carriage scrambled to follow as Zeke and Scar rode alongside, their steed keeping pace. For a moment, it felt like old times – adventure in the wind and the slight taste of freedom.