Kyros's small feet crunched against the snow-covered cobblestone as the walls of Nightreign loomed above him. The attendant's hand hovered near his shoulder, guiding him, though Kyros barely needed it. He escaped the palace enough times to know his way around the streets.
His eyes darted across the streets—crowded, loud, alive in a way only Nightreign ever felt.
Refugee mortals wrapped in patched coats traded for bread or medicine.
Demi-humans with faint animal traits—furred ears tucked beneath hoods, scaled patches hidden under cloth, glowing eyes flicking warily between shadows—moved carefully among the crowd.
Vendors shouted from makeshift stalls built against crumbling stone walls. Others balanced on the rooftops, calling out prices for dried fruit or scraps of metal, their goods spread across blankets weighed down with stones.
Kyros looked up to watch them, momentarily fascinated by how easily they navigated the angled tiles—so much so that he didn't see the loose cobblestone.
He stumbled, catching himself just before he fell.
"Careful," his attendant hissed, her gaze sharp as she swept it over the crowd. "Keep your eyes forward."
Near the street's edge, a human with faintly glowing markings tended to a wounded refugee, pressing cloth against his arm as the man gritted his teeth. A pair of children—one human, one with subtle feline ears—sat beside a crate, trading marbles for pieces of dried meat.
A group of traveling performers played a somber melody on handmade instruments, their notes curling through the cold air.
And at a small corner stall, a veiled seamstress with faint stone-like patterns across her skin handed a repaired cloak back to a trembling boy, ruffling his hair before he ran off.
Nightreign was dangerous.
Harsh.
Unforgiving.
But scenes like this—people trying to survive together—made it feel almost gentle. His attendant finally caught up, "Young Master, please slow down!"
"Hmm, maybe, I dont feel like it."
"Your mother told me to–"
"Bring me home." Kyros finished. "Yeah, yeah, I get it."
They turned onto the central avenue, where a massive bulletin board displayed the daily city updates: incoming refugees, safe-zone expansions, missing persons, and monster sightings around the perimeter.
"Ya know how those monster sightings work because technically some people in this city are monsters of some kind," Kyros joked.
"Young master, please no jokes," the attendant exasperated
"Hah, Alright."
His eyes flicked over the parchment.
Nothing unusual.
Until—
A new notice, stamped only an hour ago:
Increased movement detected near the Shattered Spine. Travel routes locked. Avoid all northern paths.
Kyros frowned.
He had heard that name a hundred times, always in warnings. Always about indescribable horrors dwelling within it. Monsters that were born from the corpse of a titan. A titan his mother killed during the war of shattered skies. A place where mana tore itself apart, poisonous to most. A place of broken land and no rules, Kill or be killed at its finest.
He didn't know he'd end up there in two years.
He didn't know it would change everything.
He didn't know it would be the reason he disappeared.
He just stared at the notice for another second, uneasy for reasons he couldn't explain.
His attendant tugged his arm.
"Let's move. Your mother doesn't like you lingering in public."
Kyros sighed dramatically.
"My mom doesn't like a lot of things."
"She likes you alive."
"Barely."
The attendant shot him an exhausted look.
Kyros just grinned and walked forward again, weaving through the crowds like he belonged to every corner of the city.
He didn't look back at the notice.
He didn't see the second paper pinned beneath it.
He didn't see the handwriting—sharp, familiar, and forbidden.
Subject Located. Observation Continuing.
– Aethon
He didn't see the shadow detach from a rooftop and follow him with slow, patient steps.
As they made their way home, Kyros kept glancing at the rooftops. Something tugged at the back of his mind. A prickle. A pressure. Not danger—just... attention. Like someone was studying him too closely, from too far away.
But whenever he looked, the rooftops were empty.
He shook it off.
Probably just another citizen staring.
Or some bored scout on watch.
Or—
The shadows shifted again, unseen.
This time, the thing following him didn't bother hiding the faint sound of fabric brushing brick, knowing the boy would never hear it.
But someone else did.
High above, perched on the edge of her balcony in a palace, a woman with ink-black hair narrowed her violet eyes.
Nyx.
She felt the watcher long before Kyros ever could.
She didn't move.
She didn't intervene.
A small part of her wanted to kill him where he stood.
But the watcher was one of her husband's disciples.
And more importantly...
She wanted to see what her son would become when the world tried to take him.
By the time Kyros reached the palace gates, the snow on his boots had melted. The guards bowed—some stiffly, some fondly—as he passed through the towering obsidian archway. Even the enchanted statues tracked him with glowing eyes, recognizing him immediately
His attendant exhaled in relief.
"Finally home."
Kyros stretched his arms overhead. "Told you we'd be fine."
"No, you were fine. I almost had a heart attack."
Kyros waved her off and jogged ahead, his footsteps echoing through the grand corridor. His mother's palace was enormous—too big, too quiet, too elegant for an eight-year-old who wanted to climb everything that wasn't nailed down.
He turned left.
Then right.
Then down the hall, lined with portraits of his mother and sister and, of course, himself.
And finally, he stepped into the vast palace garden.
Sunlight shimmered through enchanted glass, bathing the garden in soft hues of silver and violet. Flowers that bloomed only in moonlight breathed gently as the boy passed. The trees bent ever so slightly, sensing him—like they were greeting something familiar.
Kyros spotted her instantly.
Sitting on the edge of the koi fountain, tracing patterns on the water's surface with one fingertip, was a girl.
Kyros brightened instantly.
"Kyra!"
His twin sister looked up, her smile blooming like it always did—quiet but genuine, the kind that made the entire palace feel less... bland.
"Hey," she said, voice soft and warm as the garden air. "You're back earlier than I thought."
Kyros hopped onto the fountain rim beside her, nearly slipping on the wet stone. Kyra's hand shot out and caught his sleeve before he could land in the water.
"You almost fell," she said gently.
"I meant to do that."
"No, you didn't."
Kyros huffed. "I could've recovered myself."
Kyra giggled, the sound small and bright. "Of course you could've, Kyros."
She always said it like she meant it—even when she didn't.
He leaned over the fountain, dipping his fingers in the cool water. The koi—glowing softly —swam in lazy loops beneath their reflections.
"You smell like the city," Kyra murmured, resting her chin in her hands.
"Thanks," he said proudly. "I fought a rock."
Kyra blinked at him. "...Why?"
"It looked at me funny."
Kyra stared, then laughed quietly. "You're unbelievable."
Kyros nudged her shoulder with his. "I know I'm amazing. Did you miss me?"
"I always do," she said simply.
And she meant that too.
Kyros kicked his feet a bit, watching ripples chase each other across the surface. Kyra watched him out of the corner of her eye, expression softening.
"You're tired," she said.
"No, I'm not."
"You went wandering again. And worrying again." She nudged his knee with hers. "You only fidget like that when something's on your mind."
Kyros paused.
He just shrugged. "Just stuff."
Kyra hummed, accepting that answer the way she accepted everything—calmly, gently, without pushing.
"Well... I'm glad you're home," she said again.
Kyros bumped her shoulder lightly. "Me too."
A pause fell between them, the soft hum of the fountain filling the silence. Then, without warning, Kyros scooped a handful of water and tossed it at her. Kyra squealed, laughing, and retaliated, sending a cascade of droplets onto his hair.
Soon, the two of them were splashing each other, laughter echoing through the sunlit garden, the koi scattering and darting away from the chaos.
Kyros grinned, water dripping down his face. "You're wet now. I win."
Kyra shook her head, dripping but still smiling. "It's a tie. We are both wet."
"Whatever, I still think I won."
The sun dipped lower, casting long, silver shadows across the garden. The koi swirled lazily in the fountain.
Kyros shook the water from his hands and brushed his hair back, and glanced at Kyra. "Come on. Let's go inside."
Kyra stood, brushing her hair back. "Lead the way, Kyros."
And together, the twins walked back into the palace, the day fading into a calm evening, leaving only laughter and the gentle ripples of the fountain behind them.