The inner corridors of the castle were quieter.
There was none of the chaos from the walls.
Nor the weight of those who had just arrived.
Here, everything was contained.
Controlled.
A guard stopped before a double door of dark wood, adorned with golden metal details.
He straightened his posture, took a deep breath, and then announced, in a firm voice:
"Your Highness, Prince Éon has arrived."
For a brief moment, nothing answered from the other side.
Then—
"Enter."
The door was opened.
Éon stepped in without haste.
Without announcing his presence beyond what was necessary.
The room was spacious, yet closed in. Maps spread across a large central table, candles still lit despite the daylight, as if the night there had never truly ended.
His eyes moved first.
They found Cassian's.
Golden.
Attentive.
Steady as always.
But they did not remain there.
They moved on.
Until her.
Seated with natural ease, as if that space had belonged to her long before any title confirmed it, the figure held a presence that did not need to impose itself — she simply occupied.
Pale skin contrasted with red and gold garments, imperial in cut, marked by serpentine symbols that seemed to move under the light.
Black hair, with bluish reflections, fell framing her face with almost calculated precision.
The eyes.
Amber-gold.
But there was something there that did not remain static — as if, beneath the surface, another color waited for the right moment to emerge.
A smile appeared.
Slow.
Controlled.
"It's been a while, Éon."
Her voice slid through the room with measured softness, almost cordial… if not for what lay behind it.
He did not respond.
Her smile did not fade.
It only adjusted, subtler.
"I imagine you were expecting someone else."
A slight tilt of her head.
"But he has already taken his own path."
Éon's eyes remained on her.
Steady.
Without visible reaction.
She held his gaze for a moment longer than necessary.
Like someone studying him.Like someone weighing him.
Then she continued, in the same controlled tone:
"In a short time… by human standards… this place is no longer what it once was."
There was no haste in her words.
Nor any excess weight.
But each one seemed placed exactly where it should be.
"And I suppose your journey was not a brief one."
A short pause.
"Therefore, I will not take more of your time than necessary."
Her gaze shifted, at last, to Cassian.
A minimal gesture.
Enough.
Cassian stepped forward.
His posture remained impeccable.
But this time, it was not only formality — there was greater care in the way he held Éon's gaze.
"During your absence, Your Highness… the political balance of the Northern Kingdom has undergone significant changes."
His voice came out controlled.
Still, heavier.
"The queen's faction retreated to the Central Kingdom after the arrival of Prince Éreon and his forces."
A brief silence settled.
Not in the room.
But between the words.
Éon's gaze did not change.
But something in him… grew more attentive.
"With that, military power now rests in the hands of the king's faction."
"The queen's influence… has left this territory."
Cassian continued, unhurried — like one who knows that each piece of information carried more than strategy.
"In parallel, an agreement was established."
A pause.
Longer this time.
"Prince Éreon formally renounced his position in the line of succession."
The silence weighed.
And, for the first time—
Éon's eyes lowered a millimeter.
Almost nothing.
But enough to exist.
"In exchange… he received full autonomy over the lands of the former Northern Barony."
"Own laws. Independent forces. Full sovereignty."
"And the title of Marquis."
Cassian held his gaze.
Without wavering.
"With the queen's retreat… and the absence of direct heirs tied to the king…"
The pause came.
And this time… it was not technical.
It was measured.
"Your Highness has been declared Crown Prince of the Northern Kingdom."
The air seemed denser.
There was no immediate reaction.
But Éon's silence ceased to be neutral.
Now… it was charged.
Cassian hesitated.
A brief instant — human.
The princess's hand rose.
Subtle.
"Continue."
Cassian nodded.
"Before departing… the queen left a declaration."
The tone did not change.
But the weight did.
"She stated that she will not allow the Northern Kingdom to remain standing after such an affront."
"And that she will return… to destroy it."
Silence.
This time… longer.
Éon did not move.
But his fingers, at his side—
Closed slowly.
Cassian went on.
"Until His Majesty returns… all responsibilities fall upon Your Highness."
A short pause.
"Government."
"Defense."
"Internal stability."
He then concluded:
"The kingdom… now answers to you."
Her hand rose again.
Cassian stepped back.
The princess stood.
Without haste.
But now there was something different.
Not only control.
Interest.
"I understand that all of this may seem… excessive."
Her steps were soft.
"Especially for someone who has just returned."
She stopped before him.
Closer.
Enough.
"That is why… he left you a message."
A slight tilt of her head.
"Consider this… an early gift."
A smile appeared.
Thin.
Calculated.
"To restore the king's body… he dared to manipulate a considerable amount of chaotic energy."
A light pause.
"Enough to place him in a state of inactivity."
Her eyes remained locked on his.
"When he will awaken… even he could not say."
Silence.
But now—
Éon's gaze changed.
Very little.
But it changed.
It was not surprise.
Nor shock.
It was… recognition.
"Until then… the kingdom has already been left under your responsibility."
Her voice lowered.
"Not as a request."
A fraction of a second.
"But as a decision."
She stepped half a pace back.
"He believes you will endure."
A pause.
"Even if you must face the queen…"
"The forces that still move within the Central Kingdom…"
"And the interests that will inevitably turn against you."
A faint corner smile.
"Including mine."
The silence remained.
But now… alive.
"My army will not move."
"Therefore… choose carefully those you wish at your side."
Her gaze slid.
"I see you brought… interesting company."
When it returned to him—
There was something deeper there.
Curiosity.
"Remember, Éon…"
Her voice dropped.
"An enemy can become a valuable ally."
"Just as an ally… can be the beginning of your ruin."
A pause.
"But I imagine you have already been well instructed in this kind of game."
The name came like a soft blade:
"Nika… Érebo… and others."
A small silence.
And then—
"Happy birthday, Éon."
She inclined her head slightly.
"May the gods protect you…"
A minimal pause.
Her eyes did not blink.
"Or that they devour you swiftly."
Her voice did not change.
But something in the air… shifted with the words.
"And with that… the message ends."
The silence that followed was not empty.
It was heavy.
Dense enough to fill every space in the room.
Éon did not respond immediately.
His eyes remained on her for a moment longer… as if searching for something beyond the words.
But there was nothing there that was not intentional.
Nothing that had not been calculated.
Then—
He turned.
Without haste.
Without exaggerated reaction.
But it was not indifference.
It was decision.
His steps echoed across the stone floor as he moved toward the door.
His hand was already touching the wood when her voice came again.
"Éon."
He stopped.
He did not turn fully.
Only enough to listen.
Her smile returned.
Smaller.
Sharper.
"Everything that occurred in the east…"
A slight pause.
"Was not exactly a surprise to him."
Éon's eyes narrowed… for the first time.
Very slightly.
But enough to exist.
"He was already in the company of someone capable of seeing possibilities before they even became real."
Her tone remained soft.
Almost casual.
"Even so… he chose not to say anything."
Silence.
This time… heavier.
More personal.
"He sent you anyway… knowing full well."
A fraction of a second.
"Without a single word."
The air seemed to compress.
There was no anger on Éon's face.
Nor shock.
But something there… settled.
Deeper.
Colder.
He opened the door.
Before leaving—
His eyes cast a sidelong glance.
Direct.
Precise.
"Límia."
The name fell into the space as recognition.
Not surprise.
Not doubt.
Recognition.
Her smile changed.
This time… real enough to be dangerous.
"I see you've learned to see beyond what is said."
A slight inclination of her head.
"That will make things easier."
Éon did not respond.
And left.
The door closed behind him with a dry sound.
The silence that remained… was another.
Cassian stood still for a moment.
His eyes went to her.
"Your Highness…"
She did not answer immediately.
She was already walking.
She passed by him without haste.
Without asking for space.
As if the environment simply adjusted to her passage.
She stopped before the window behind the table.
The walls of the Northern Kingdom rose outside.
Firm.
Imposing.
Her eyes moved across the horizon.
Calm.
Calculating.
"Cassian."
He approached.
"Yes, Your Highness."
She did not look at him.
"Prepare your men."
A short pause.
"There is no more room for doubt."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"The war has already begun."
Silence.
Then, finally—
She turned her face.
And looked at him.
"And it will be this war… that will decide who remains standing when all of this ends."
There was no exaggerated emotion.
No dramatization.
Only… certainty.
She stepped away.
Walked toward the exit.
Without looking back.
Cassian remained for a moment.
His eyes went to the window once more.
Outside—
Between the walls—
The survivors from the east still moved.
Wounded.
Tired.
Alive.
But carrying something that would not be left behind.
He closed his eyes for a brief second.
And then—
Turned.
And followed.
When dawn finally broke the sky…
he had already decided.
The air still carried the weight of what could no longer be avoided.
From atop the walls of the Northern Kingdom, the horizon stretched vast… cold… too silent to be only peace.
A soldier climbed the last stone steps.
His breathing still heavy.
His armor creaking with each movement.
He did not look at the horizon.
His gaze was fixed ahead.
On the figure standing upon the walls.
Motionless.
Back turned.
The light wind stirred the black cloak.
The dark strands, shorter now, still fell in disarray to the nape of his neck.
There was something different.
Not in appearance.
But in presence.
Denser.
Quieter.
More… final.
The soldier stopped a few steps away.
He knelt immediately.
"Sir…"
His voice came out firm, despite the exhaustion.
"The troops are in formation."
A brief pause.
"They await only your order to march toward the Central Kingdom."
Silence.
The wind passed between the walls.
No immediate answer.
The soldier kept his head lowered.
But his eyes… lifted slightly.
Enough.
And then he saw.
The profile.
Pale skin.
Dark eyes.
Deep.
There was no haste in them.
No doubt.
Only… direction.
Éon did not respond.
He began to walk.
He passed the soldier without saying a word.
And still—
That was enough of an answer.
The soldier rose quickly.
Turned.
And followed a few steps behind.
The walls opened ahead.
And then—
They appeared.
Rows.
Hundreds.
Perhaps thousands.
Soldiers aligned in absolute silence.
Black armor.
Dark cloaks swaying with the wind.
And above them—
The banner.
A black wolf.
Raised against the pale sky of dawn.
Not as a symbol.
But as a warning.
The army did not move.
But it was ready.
Waiting.
Éon stopped.
Before them.
His gaze ran across the ranks.
Slow.
Measured.
Recognizing.
Weighing.
Accepting.
That was no longer the same man who had returned two years ago.
Much had changed since then.
Something had been left behind.
And something… had taken its place.
The silence stretched.
Heavy.
Expectant.
Then—
Without raising his voice.
Without a dramatic gesture.
He spoke:
"Advance."
Simple.
Direct.
Irreversible.
And it was enough.
The sound came soon after.
Armor.
Steps.
The earth giving way beneath them.
The army began to move.
As a single body.
As a single will.
As a single force.
The black wolf advanced.
And, in that instant—
it was no longer just a war that was beginning.
It was the world… reorganizing itself around it.
And when the first step was taken—
there was no longer any path back.