Dawn in Rivan is always arrived gloomily, cloaked in the gray of coal smoke and thick fog from industrial chimneys. But this morning, through the shattered glass windows of the North Rivan Cathedral, Sinhara Veylan felt that pale light was colder than any winter he had ever experienced.
The air in the sanctuary was thick and heavy with an awkward silence. Only a few hours ago, this place had been filled with the low growls of pleasure, the clashing of metal, and the intense heat of two bodies entwined in madness. Now, all that remained was emptiness and the bone-chilling cold of the marble.
Sin stood with his back to the altar—the place that had become their "bed of sin" the night before. His long, slender hands shook slightly as he fastened the last buttons of his shirt. He tried to pull his collar up, but it could not hide the bruised marks on his collarbone and neck—the traces of the brutal possession Eric had left behind. They burned and ached like seals branded into his flesh, reminding him: he now belonged to the enemy.
On the other side of the room, a dry clinking sound echoed.
Eric was donning his armor once more. Piece by piece, the shining silver plates were fitted back together, hiding his broad shoulders and powerful chest. He pulled on his iron gauntlets with slow, heavy movements, as if he were carrying a weight of a thousand pounds. When he set his helmet aside, revealing a handsome but exhausted face, the Silver Knight's deep blue eyes stared into the empty space.
He had put back on his shell—the perfect "war machine"—but Sin knew, and Eric knew, that the soul inside that armor had shattered. The absolute loyalty he once held for the Emperor had been stained by the desire and doubt of the previous night.
"How will you report this?"
Sin spoke, breaking the silence. His voice was light and calm—terrifyingly so—as if they were discussing the weather rather than high treason.
Eric did not turn around. He leaned his hands on the hilt of his sword, his knuckles white from gripping it too hard. A violent internal struggle was happening behind that broad back. Kill Sin now to bury the secret? Or confess everything to his brother?
"I have let you escape," Eric said, his voice thick and low, echoing through the empty hall. "The report will state: Subject Sinhara Veylan was too cunning. He used an unknown alchemical smoke bomb, jumped into the abyss of the metal factory, and disappeared. No body was found."
Sin's lips curved into a faint, bitter smile. That was the first lie Eric had ever told the Emperor. And it was a lie told to protect him.
Sin walked toward Eric. The sound of his leather boots tapped rhythmically on the stone floor. He stopped right behind the knight, close enough to feel the heat radiating from the cold armor. Eric surely caught the scent of herbs mixed with the lingering smell of their intimacy.
"This is not mercy, Eric," Sin whispered, his voice like a sweet curse. "This is complicity."
Eric shuddered. He turned sharply, intending to grab Sin's shoulder, but the scholar was faster. Sin stepped back, keeping a distance that was safe yet provocative. His dark eyes looked directly into Eric's—the gaze of a man holding wisdom looking into the heart of a man holding power.
Sin slowly reached out. Held between two fingers was a small, neatly folded piece of parchment. He tucked it into the gap between Eric's iron gauntlet and his wrist guard.
"What is this?" Eric frowned, feeling the secret contact.
"The coordinates of Libra—the first constellation," Sin lowered his voice, returning to his scholarly tone. "The Mirrakyn stone in my pocket is asleep, but it managed to whisper the place where the 'beginning of the end' lies. If you want the truth about what your brother is so desperately hunting, go there."
Eric looked down at the paper, then back at Sin. "Why give this to me? Are you not afraid I will lead an army to destroy that place?"
"I am gambling," Sin tilted his head, his gaze becoming sharp. "I am gambling on your curiosity, Sir Knight. And I am gambling on the fact that... you no longer want to be a puppet. When you go there, be careful. Once you step into the world of true knowledge, you can never go back to being a submissive sheep."
Sin turned away, pulling his hood up to hide his face. The shadows of the side door seemed to reach out to welcome him back.
"Wait!"
Eric's call made Sin stop.
"What are we to each other after tonight?" Eric asked. The question burst out before his logic could stop it. It was a foolish, weak question, unworthy of a Silver Knight, yet it was the only thing making his heart race. He did not want Sin to be just a passing dream.
Sin stood still in the half-light. He did not turn back, but his slender shoulders slumped slightly.
"We are two people who share a deadly secret, Eric," Sin's voice rang out, mixed with sadness and the resignation of fate. "Do not look for me. Look for the truth. Until we meet again... when the stars align."
With those words, Sinhara Veylan vanished into the thick morning fog of Rivan, leaving Eric standing alone in the ruined sanctuary.
The Silver Knight slowly opened his palm. The small paper lay nestled in his cold metal glove. He squeezed it tight, so hard that his nails pressed into his skin. He felt a sharp pain in his chest, where his heart beat with a rebellious rhythm.
Outside, the great clock of the Rivan Tower chimed, signaling the start of a new day—a day where the Empire continued as usual, but the loyalty of the Emperor's brother had changed forever.
Eric stepped out of the cathedral doors, the weak sunlight reflecting off his shining silver armor. He took a deep breath of the smoky air. He knew he would go to the Libra coordinates. Not for a mission, but to find those wise, dark eyes again. The war for the Mirrakyn had only just begun, but the war for his own heart and soul had been decided last night.