* ☆ *.*.*.*.*.* ☆ *
The Northern Palace felt hollowed out, a grand cage of stone and ice where the silence was louder than any scream. While Kyon and Arion led the frantic search for their firstborn, Celine, the atmosphere inside the nursery wing had shifted from recovery to a strange, volatile tension.
Kenzo was losing his mind. Being the middle child—born only a week after Celine and just minutes before Calix—he had always felt he was the shield of the trio. But he was only ten, his body still small, and his pride was currently in tatters.
That afternoon, the "tragedy" occurred. Calix, always the more delicate and clumsy of the two, had tripped over a loose rug while trying to show Kenzo a new sketch. He had tumbled directly onto Kenzo, his soft silver hair brushing Kenzo's neck and his scent—warm milk and jasmine—exploding in a concentrated burst of accidental comfort.
For a Sigma, whose biological role was to protect and balance, the proximity was a sensory overload. Kenzo felt a sudden, sharp heat coil in his gut, a physical reaction he was far too young to fully understand but old enough to be mortified by.
He had pushed Calix off with a panicked strength, his face turning a shade of purple-red that rivaled the Northern sunset, and bolted for the bathroom.
Now, he sat on the cold tile floor, his head between his knees. He was angry at his own weakness, angry at the world for taking Celine, and utterly embarrassed by the "urge" that had seized him. Unlike Aiden, who thrived on drama and grand gestures, Kenzo preferred to suffer in a quiet, simmering rage.
He pulled his communication crystal and privately called Arion. He couldn't talk to Kyon about this—Kyon would just tell him to "embrace the beast." Arion, however, understood the complexities of the soul.
"Papa," Kenzo whispered into the crystal, his voice cracking with shame. "Something is wrong with me. Every time Calix comes near... every time I feel like I need to protect him... I get this... this 'hurt' in my body. It won't go away. I'm a monster, aren't I?"
On the other end, Arion's voice was a soothing balm, even amidst his own grief for Celine. "It is the Sigma blood, Kenzo. Your body is maturing faster because your instincts perceive a threat. You aren't a monster; you're a guardian who hasn't learned to control his flame yet. Be patient with yourself."
But patience wasn't in Kenzo's vocabulary. He spent the evening avoiding Calix's worried, big-eyed stares. When Calix knocked on the door, asking why Kenzo wouldn't play, Kenzo would only growl a "Go away!" through the wood. Yet, the moment Calix fell asleep, Kenzo would creep into the room, bathing his twin in a thick, protective layer of iron-scented pheromones, his eyes watching the shadows for a danger he couldn't yet fight.
*The Southern Seduction*
In the South, the air was heavy with more than just humidity; it was thick with a calculated, psychological war. Aiden was a master of the "slow burn." He wasn't just using Asher to make Lorcan jealous; he was inadvertently—or perhaps intentionally—dismantling Asher's defenses.
During their afternoon training sessions, Aiden was relentless. He would push Asher until the older boy was breathless and sweating, his skin glowing under the Southern sun. Then, Aiden would get "physical"—a hand lingering on a hip to correct a stance, a thumb wiping sweat from a temple, or a sudden, pinning move that left their chests heaving against one another.
Lorcan watched from the balcony, his knuckles white as he gripped the railing. He noticed it before they did. He saw the way Asher's eyes, usually sharp and mocking, would soften into a dazed, liquid gold whenever Aiden looked at him. He saw the way Asher started "teasing" Aiden just to get a reaction—just to feel Aiden's hands on him again.
Lorcan's jealousy had transformed into a constant, low-level growl of pheromones. Whenever he stood near Aiden, he would release a sharp, citrusy scent of a Southern omega, a territorial marking that screamed Mine.
Aiden noticed. He noticed every drop of pheromone, every twitch of Lorcan's jaw, and every blush on Asher's face. He played his role perfectly, acting oblivious while he expertly tightened the strings on his two puppets. He was his father's son, but while Kyon was a storm, Aiden was the deep, silent ocean that pulled you under before you even knew you were drowning.
*☆ *
Far to the West, in the sanctuary of the Elite Mountains, a different kind of obsession was blooming. Lowell, the thirteen-year-old Prince posing as a man, was finding it increasingly difficult to maintain his "cold" persona.
Celine was currently sitting by the fire, her small face smudged with soot and her left eye still carrying that faint, draconic red tint. She was ten, but the ordeal in the cellar had aged her spirit. She moved with a quiet, regal grace that Lowell found utterly captivating.
"Eat your bread, Neveah," Lowell muttered, his voice gruff as he looked away.
Inside, he was screaming. How can someone be this cute while looking like they could freeze a whole army? Every time Celine tilted her head or frowned at a difficult passage in one of his books, Lowell felt a "melt" in his chest that no solar magic could replicate.
' damn it I'm going crazy! How can someone be this cute?!' He thought , frowning.
He had no intention of bringing her back yet. He told himself it was for her safety—that the North was too dangerous with the "Ice Dragon" rumors—but the truth was simpler: he didn't want to go back to being a lonely fugitive. He wanted to stay in this cave with this mysterious girl who lied about her name but couldn't hide her spirit.
"Why do you keep looking at me like that?" Celine asked suddenly, her sharp eyes fixing on him.
Lowell felt his ears turn red under his illusion.
"I'm not looking at you. I'm looking at the fire. You're just in the way."
Celine narrowed her eyes, not believing him for a second. She is Kyon's masterpiece ; she knew a lie when she heard one. But for now, the warmth of the cave and the strange, grumpy protection of this "man" were the only things keeping her together. She didn't know about the search parties, the marriage contracts, or the Sigma's struggle back home. She only knew that for the first time in a week, she wasn't only afraid, she was mortified.
' papa, where are you!' She screamed mentally, still keeping a neutral face out.