The Dowager's words lingered in the air—heavy, sharp, and impossible to ignore.
Eloria had burned. Hundreds lost. Althais was reduced to almost nothing. Eloria still stood—barely.
I stirred through the hot-soup again, still haven't tasted it. Still pretending I might. Over...and over again.
Father…
He was alive. Somehow. Thankfully.
And just then, the memory came crawling back—uninvited, beyond my control.
I was seven, maybe eight.
The storm came too fast for my young mind to understand—a tidal wave swallowed the world around me.
Suddenly, cold bit through everything. I was trapped, in a small orange float, teeth clattering so hard I could barely breathe.
"Just hold on a little longer, Liam."
My mother's voice trembled as she patted the small boy—half my size—beside me, her hands barely moving. I reached for him too, but my own fingers couldn't even feel his face.
Achoo! she sneezed, so violently it scared me.
"Mom! …" I screamed, panicked.
"I'm fin… fine," she said, voice cracking in two.
The water slapped against us, merciless, freezing.
"Okay, that's enough. You should get in the float, and I'll—" I said, holding back tears.
"Do what?.." she laughed, lips pale-blue and shaking. "Get into this freezing oasis? I don't think so."
She still smiled through the cold, through the pain. "Just sit tight sweetie. Daddy's gonna be here any second."
I wanted to argue. To cry. To grab her hand and never let go.
But all I could do was shiver...and pray, helplessly. Watching her fade between the waves. Watching Liam go still—right before my eyes.
Lightning struck the water!, the float flipped over—I grabbed onto Liam, the only thing I could…
Then silence.
One that presses down on you, until breathing feels like guilt.
Mom was... Gone. I couldn't see her, couldn't see anything, just water.
I exhaled, slow and shaky, dragging myself back to the now.
That's why.
{It's always better not to get close.}
But hearing the Dowager speak of my father—my real father—something cracked anyway. The ache, the fear, the helpless need to protect him—made me realize something.
I closed my eyes and whispered,
"Well… guess we're doing this a second time."
"...Iris?"
Ray's voice reached me, soft–steady, pulling me back through the fog.
I blinked, the room sharpening into focus—the clink of his teacup, the faint tremor of Ryder's sigh. My soup sat untouched, cooling fast.
Ray leaned forward, worry hidden behind his usual calm. "You spaced out for a bit," he said quietly. "Are you alright?"
Ryder leaned forward from his seat, one elbow on the table, studying me like I was about to faint. "I'm not sure if she can hear you, your highness?" His tone was light, but his eyes weren't. "You're starting to worry even me, Lady Iris."
That earned him a half-hearted glare. "I hear plenty, thank you."
He hummed. "Right. Like the soup, apparently."
Ray shot him a look, the kind older brothers reserve for idiots or best friends. "Ryder."
"What? I'm just making sure she's alive." He lifted his teacup in mock toast. "You're welcome."
I exhaled—half a laugh, half a tremor. "I'm fine, really" I lied, a practiced one.
Ryder didn't seem convinced. But he didn't press either. Just leaned back, quiet again, that steady kind of presence that filled the silence without demanding anything.
One I liked.
.><><><.
The first thing Sylvester noticed was the quiet. It wasn't the comfortable kind, the kind that means too much has happened while he slept.
Then came that voice. Familiar.
"Aren't you lucky, I was so close to starting funeral arrangements."
Sylvester blinked, his vision adjusting to the pale light bleeding through the curtains. Levi sat in the corner, legs crossed, arms draped over his knees like he owned the room.
"Says the dead and ugly," Sylvester rasped, his voice dry and cracked.
Levi snorted. "Charming as ever, I see. Tell me though, how many lives do you plan on burning through before you stay in one piece for longer than a year?"
"I'm still here, aren't I?"
"Barely. You're not some lone soldier anymore, Sylv. You're a Duke. A Father. Maybe stop trying to out-die your enemies."
Sylvester exhaled, leaning back into the pillows. "Don't you have some 'errands' to run for the Royal family?"
Levi tilted his head. "Ran them. While you were busy playing corpse." He stood and crossed the room, stopping at the foot of the bed. "Eloria's stabilized, but… We've got reason to believe the Runebloods have help. From inside Oaiya."
Sylvester's eyes hardened. "That's a grave accusation you're making."
Levi shrugged one shoulder. "The Scarlet Secret doesn't assume. We confirm. Facts. And yes — there's movement. Unnatural coordination. Someone's feeding them tactics–copper–tools, even blueprints."
Sylvester swore under his breath. "Of what?."
Levi smiled thinly. "That's talk for another day. I should be going anyway, but first..., figured you'd want to know before I vanish again. And—" his tone softened slightly, almost teasing, "—the kids are on their way. Try to stay alive a little longer to greet them at least."
Sylvester froze. "What?"
"They're probably here already, they left the capital this morning—dawn," Levi said, too casually.
" They what ?!"
"I'd tell them to turn back, but I don't outrank the Dowager Princess."
"Levi, you—!"
But the air shimmered faintly. "Can't hear you.." The man was already gone.
The door creaked open a beat later.
"Your Grace!" Deviella's voice broke the stillness. She nearly dropped the tray in her hands, eyes wide. "You're awake!"
Sylvester stared at her for a long, tired moment, then sighed.
"I noticed." He huffed flatly.
.><><><.
As the carriage rolled through the Hampton gates, the silence inside it felt heavier than a wet ball-gown.
I saw the wreckage on the way here — the once-golden fields of Eloria, now a flattened graveyard of ash–smoke, and stone. Broken walls—buildings, blackened timber, scraps of cloth fluttering in the wind like ghosts without rest. The air still smelled of dried blood and smoke. People were scavenging in the ruins — for food, maybe tools, or pieces of the lives they'd lost.
And I…, I had nothing to say.
Everyone was quiet too—watching, our once home turned disaster.
{Home Hun.}
Theo kept his face pressed to the window, his small hand curled into a fist. Mia and Gia leaned on each other, pretending to nap, but their lashes were wet. Rosie's knuckles were white where she clutched the curtain.
I hadn't figured out what I was feeling yet, but...I suppose I'm nervous. Seeing as my eyes were a sun-set shade.
When we finally stopped, two familiar figures stood waiting at the gate. Zerlious and Carl — both of them dust-streaked, both standing straight, defying the obvious fatigue on their faces.
"Lady Iris," Zerlious greeted, bowing stiffly. There was a fresh gash across his cheek, bandaged badly. "Welcome home."
I stared at him for a beat too long. Another mark up his fore-arm.
{How bad is Father's going to be.}
"You look terrible," I said, stepping down from the carriage. "Even you." Turning my gaze to Carl,
He huffed a quiet laugh. "Occupational hazard, my lady."
My eyes swept over the courtyard — the cracked stones, and hastily repaired archway, the smell of burnt-out influence still clinging to the air. Since when could I distinguish influence scents.
The Hampton estate had always been… solid. Unshakable. Now it just looked like an occupied abandoned mansion.
"Is he…" I started, but the words lodged in my throat.
Carl nodded once, understanding without being told. "He woke this morning."
I blinked. "He's awake?"
"Yes, my lady. Resting still, but awake." Carl assured,
" He's also expecting you all." Zerlious continued.
I drew a slow breath, gripping my skirt to keep my hands from shaking. I'd imagined this moment a hundred times — the relief, possibly tears, maybe I'd scold him too. But now that it was happening, all I could feel was the pounding in my chest.
Was I ready to see him?
Duke Sylvester Hampton—the man who always looked untouchable—scarred–broken?
Theo tugged on my sleeve, his voice small "Are we going in now, Iris?"
I glanced at the mansion doors. Light leaked through the cracks, warm and still.
"…Yeah," I whispered. "Let's."
.><><><.
The doors creaked open with a low groan — like you'd see in a Count Dracula movie. The familiar scent of oil lamps and burned herbs hit first, faintly through the dimly lit hallway. The sconces were half-way dead, the hallway itself felt… smaller somehow, even though nothing had changed.
We walked quietly—Rosie leading Mia and Gia, Theo gripping my hand like one of us would vanish without the other. His little steps matched mine perfectly. The sound of uneven boots on stone echoed, heavy.
The guest rooms have always been quiet, unless occupied. But the silence from there felt otherworldly today. Servants bowed as we passed, their face blank and pale.
Then—voices. Faint, muffled through the slant space between the heavy doors of Father's chamber.
{That's Deviella's voice.}
I didn't even have to see to know the tone — that polite, trembling awe she only reserved for a married man.
{Did all the witches die all of a sudden.}
"My Lord, you shouldn't be sitting up yet."
And then Father's dry rumble, steady as ever.
"I'm not made of glass, Deviella."
Of course. He wasn't dressed. Shirtless, wrapped in white bandages, half his torso bare and bruised. The scars—ran like pale lightning over his skin.
Deviella fussed by the bedside, all gentle fingers and fluttering eyelashes over her magenta-eyes, holding a damp towel she clearly hadn't used yet.
If she leaned any closer, she'd be part of the bandages.
I sighed quietly. {Here we go.}
The door creaked as I stepped inside. She turned, startled—almost dropped the towel.
"Lady Iris!, Madam Rosie!. Children!" she gasped. "You—you're here"
"Sorry," Rosie said flatly. "Did we interrupt something."
Deviella's face went pink to scarlet in under three seconds. "No!, absolutely nothing..."
Sylvester turned toward me—and that was it.
All my thoughts, witty retorts, and carefully arranged emotional walls—just collapsed.
His eyes were the same mesmerizing gem-green as always, sharp even when tired. His hair—messy, silver strands falling over his face. He looked alive. Like actually alive.
Theo broke free first.
"Daddy!"
He sprinted forward before I could stop him, launching himself at the bed. Father caught him easily despite the strain, one arm wrapping protectively around his son.
"Easy, Theo," he murmured, voice low but warm. "I have poison inside me."
Theo sniffled, but laughed anyway, clutching him tighter. "You scared us."
The twins followed, hesitant, their faces full of relief and tears. Sylvester reached out a hand, touching their heads softly. "You've grown so much," he said, smiling faintly. "I guess the palace wasn't as bad you said in your letters"
"it's alright," Gia muttered.
"it's terrible," Mia added, wiping her eyes.
He chuckled—a soft, tired sound.
Me?
I just stood there. Watching.
Like if I blinked, they'd just vanish, and I'd wake up.
Then his gaze found mine.
"Iris."
Just my name. But it tugged my heart too hard.
"Father." I tried to smile. It didn't work.
{Too late to back out now }
He opened his mouth like he wanted to say more—but Deviella, the human mosquito of perfect timing, stepped forward again.
"You shouldn't strain yourself, My Lord," she said quickly, placing the untouched towel down. "You need rest—"
"No, I need my children," he interrupted, without even looking at her.
Oof. Even I winced.
She bowed stiffly and backed away, mumbling.
The moment she was gone, I exhaled through my nose.
"i'm taking her eyes the first chance I get" I muttered.
Sylvester arched a brow. "What?"
"Deviella, she fancies you shirtless." I said,
His gaze relaxed. Then smirked. "Doesn't everyone."
I folded my arms. "If she tries anything, I'm haunting her."
Theo blinked. "But you're not dead."
I smiled faintly, running a hand through my hair. "You don't know that."
Father chuckled, quiet but real. "You almost sound like your mother."
"Well," I said, "the woman had taste."
He shook his head, still smiling — though the weariness behind his eyes didn't fade.
Theo tugged at his arm. "Daddy, you'll get better now, right?"
"Yes," he said softly, brushing Theo's hair back. "Because you're all here."
Mia leaned on the bed's edge. "Does it hurt alot?"
"Only when people worry too loud," he teased.
Gia huffed. "Then you must've been in excruciating pain."
He laughed, actually laughed.
Rosie's shoulders eased. Even the room breathed a little.
But as the laughter died, I saw a tremor in his hand, his jaw stiffened—pain he thought none of us would notice.
I noticed.
"You need to rest," I said quietly.
He looked at me then — long enough to make my chest ache. "Later."
"Father—"
"Later, Iris." he said calmly. "Come, sit."
I bit back a retort. Theo's head was already drooping against his chest, the twins whispering something about dinner.
{I'm not gonna regret this. I'm not gonna regret this.}
"Daddy." I said, heat creeping against my skin.
He paused, eyes widened—then turns to me.
"Iris—"
"Rest, please." I didn't let him finish.
Then I rushed out the room, like some shy imbecile.
{I regret it!. I regret it!. That was stupid.}
"Come," Rosie said softly, giggling. Taking Theo into her arms. "Let him breathe."
Gia and Mia responded by getting down. But before they left, Sylvester called,
"Rosie."
She turned. Her gaze met his, "I'll send her back, don't worry about it."
"Thank you." He breathed,
Rosie smiled. "Don't die again."
He smirked. "I'll try my best."
.><><><.
The Forest Beyond the Borders — Nightfall
The deeper parts of the forest beyond Althais were the kind that swallowed light whole.
A cathedral of dark trunks and silver mist, where every sound would echo for miles—and yet went unheard. No map claimed it, no banner marked it. But tonight, Runebloods settled.
What they didn't know, was that they weren't alone.
Hidden among the tall-growth trees, the ScarletSecret watched. Shadows within shadows—hunters trained to become the dark itself.
Levi crouched beside one of his sergeants, eyes narrowed. "So," he murmured, "what do we have here?"
"It's exactly as it appears, sir," the man whispered.
Below them, the Runebloods had made camp. Fires crackled, women stirred stew pots, tents stood in careful rows, blades being sharpened. It was disturbingly… human.
Only their eyes and scent betrayed them—beasts masquerading as soldiers.
"It's painfully disgusting." the sergeant continued,
Levi's mouth twitched. "They've really done a lot of growing up."
A voice drifted down from above, smooth and teasing.
"So happy you finally decided to join us,"
He didn't have to look up to know who it was.
"Where have you been these pass three days?"
Luna stepped out of the fog like she'd been born for it. Short–blonde hair shimmered faintly in the moonlight, framing sharp—catlike eyes that caught everything—and missed nothing, slim—tall silhouette. She perched gracefully on a high branch, one leg swinging lazily as she smiled down at him.
"Luna!" the sergeant hissed under his breath. "There can't be this many of us together—what are you doing?"
"Calm down." She tilted her head, smirking. "Levi doesn't have a problem with it. Do you?"
"I never have a problem with you, Luna," Levi replied, voice low. "As long as you stop calling me by name. I'm your captain."
"Oh, tell me something I don't know."
Her tone danced between mocking and flirtatious, as she leaned forward on the branch—balanced effortlessly, every inch of her screaming danger and allure.
Before Levi could respond, a sharp thought cut through their minds like a blade:
«Shut up, All of you. Someone's coming.»
The forest shifted.
A distant rhythm of hooves—steady—approached through the mist.
The Runebloods turned first, low growls rippling across the camp. But they didn't attack.
The rider dismounted slowly, pulling back their hood.
Every Scarlet Secret scout froze.
"The captain was right," one muttered.
Levi's lips curved into a thin, knowing smile.
"Did you ever doubt it?."