Jared Grimhart rode like death was chasing him.
The small party—Jared, Amon the Red, and five Imperial Aegis knights—thundered down the wide imperial road leading into Stag City at full gallop. Hooves struck cobblestones like war drums. The wind whipped Jared's curly black hair back from his face, revealing the sharp, devastatingly handsome Edenian features that had once made court ladies faint and enemy knights hesitate. His storm-grey eyes were locked forward, jaw set, the simple black linen shirt and trousers he had thrown on flapping against his deeply tanned, battle-hardened body.
This was the city he had dreamed of seeing for seven long years.
Stag City—the beating heart of the Grimhart Empire, the jewel forged from the Night of Falling Comets. Towering spires of black marble and silver filigree scraped the sky. Ancient bridges arched over the crystal-clear River Marches. Markets overflowed with spices from the east, furs from the north, and enchanted glassware from the now-frozen western coast. Banners of the stag and comets flew from every balcony. The air smelled of fresh bread, roasting meat, incense from temples, and the faint metallic tang of latent magic that permeated the capital.
Jared had always wanted to walk these streets as a free man—to lose himself in the crowds, to see the monuments his ancestors had raised, to feel the living pulse of the empire he had bled for in the distant marches. But there was no time for sightseeing today.
The people recognized him anyway.
Shouts rose as the small group barreled through the outer districts.
"It's him!"
"The Forsaken Prince!"
"Prince Jared!"
"Look at his face—gods, it really is him!"
Some disbelieved at first. Rumors had swirled for years that the second son was dead, or hidden, or too broken by exile to ever return. But then they saw him—riding at full speed on a powerful black warhorse, beautiful face set in grim determination, grey eyes sharp as blades. The too-perfect Edenian features, the tanned skin, the unmistakable aura of a man who had survived hell and come back stronger. Women gasped. Men cheered. Children ran alongside the horses for a few strides before falling behind.
Jared did not slow. He did not wave. He simply rode harder, cloak-less, unadorned, yet every inch the prince the empire had tried to forget.
They reached the palace gates in just under an hour of punishing pace. The massive iron portcullis was already rising at their approach. Guards snapped to attention, fists over hearts. Jared reined his horse to a skidding halt in the outer bailey, dust billowing around the group.
He swung down without waiting for grooms, boots hitting marble with purpose. Amon and the Aegis knights dismounted behind him, keeping formation.
Jared headed straight for his father's private office, boots echoing through the grand corridors lined with tapestries of conquest. But before he could reach the heavy obsidian doors, a senior Aegis knight stepped into his path.
"Your Highness," the knight said respectfully but firmly. "The Emperor requests you join the family in the private living room instead."
Jared's jaw tightened, but he gave a single nod. No time to argue. He turned on his heel and strode toward the family wing.
The private living room was one of the few spaces in the palace that felt truly lived-in: comfortable couches arranged around a low fire, shelves of books and relics from Eden, large windows overlooking the inner gardens. When Jared pushed the doors open, the entire family was already waiting.
Emperor Ezra sat in the central high-backed chair, golden eyes sharp. Empress Seraphine stood beside him, hand resting protectively on her rounded belly. Sael lounged against the mantelpiece, a smirk already playing on his lips. Grace sat with her husband Mordecai, while the twins, Samael and Vael, played quietly in the corner with a set of wooden carved stags, though their little ears were clearly tuned to the adults.
"Well, look who's back," Sael drawled the moment Jared stepped inside. "I hope you aren't too worn out by your little honeymoon, brother. You look like you've been ridden harder than those horses outside." Sael chuckled, the sound light and brotherly.
Jared dropped into the nearest couch, grey eyes flashing. "I came here because we have a war to fight, not to listen to your annoying jokes, brother."
The room fell into a brief, tense silence.
"I hope the girls are fine," Ezra said quietly, voice carrying the weight of command even in a family setting.
Seraphine leaned forward, violet eyes bright with curiosity. "So… did you do it?" she asked in a hurry, unable to contain herself. She had been dying to know. Her son looked a little thinner than the last time she had seen him—clear evidence of vigorous activity. A very good sign in her eyes.
"Mom, stop," Jared said immediately, face heating. "I'm not answering that question."
The Grimharts worshipped the One True God—an ancient, strict faith that emphasized purity before marriage as one of it's many teachings. It was not the common religion of the empire, but it had been the Grimharts' creed since Lord Moses himself. That concept had been applied rigorously by every member of the bloodline and mostly heirs.
Even Sael, older than Jared and already the heir, remained pure because he was still unmarried. Grace had only consummated her marriage after her wedding night. The belief ran deep: the body was a temple, and it was to be offered only after sacred vows.
The twins kept looking between the adults, understanding nothing of the conversation but sensing the tension.
Ezra clapped his hands once. The sound cracked through the room like a whip, instantly silencing the bickering.
"We will talk about Jared's marital progress another day," the Emperor said firmly. "For now, we worry about the cold in the west."
He leaned forward, golden eyes hard.
"Duke Haelys has already left and gone to command his forces on the front. Sael and Jared—you two will go as well. Sael, take Solarix with you. I don't want to take any chances."
The room went stunned.
Sael's guardian stag, Solarix, was legendary. Her coat was pure gold, her antlers silver-pink, her eyes a piercing blue. She was said to be the most beautiful guardian stag born in centuries. But she had just given birth to two healthy new guardian stags only days ago and was still exhausted from labor.
"Isn't that going a bit overboard?" Sael protested. "Solarix just gave birth. She's in the palace gardens right now, recovering. She can't be summoned to battle like that—I can fight on my own without her since it's just a dungeon outbreak."
Ezra's gaze did not waver. "It is not just a simple dungeon outbreak, Sael. If you end up in a dire situation, remember you cannot use summoning spells since you haven't learned them. So you cannot call her to battle when she's needed. But her presence alone will be a powerful symbol and a source of strength."
Sael opened his mouth to argue further, but the Emperor was right. He closed it again.
Ezra turned to his second son.
"Jared," he said, making the younger prince straighten his back instinctively. "You will have fifteen thousand men under your command. These are hardened veterans—strong, loyal to the crown and to you personally. They will follow you to the end."
Sael received five hundred imperial mages—healers and elementalists included.
Just as Ezra was about to continue, a golden eagle burst through the open window and landed on the arm of his chair. The bird carried a small scroll tied to its talon. Ezra removed the message, unrolled it, and read in silence.
His face darkened.
He stood up slowly. The parchment burst into golden flame in his hand and turned to ash.
"Duke Haelys almost perished in battle and is gravely wounded," the Emperor announced, voice cold as steel. "They have witnessed the presence of demonic activity in the area."
The words landed like a physical blow.
Not the duke's injuries.
*Demons.*
The mortal enemies of the Grimharts. The ancient foes their bloodline had been genetically wired to hate. Demons saw the Grimharts as insignificant insects to be crushed. Grimharts saw demons as abominations that must be eradicated.
The room erupted in stunned silence.
"You two," Ezra said, looking directly at his sons. Both immediately stood at attention. "I don't know how these fuckers got on our continent, but they will not live long enough to tell the tale."
Jared and Sael answered as one.
"Yes, Father."
They left the room together, the weight of war already settling on their shoulders.
Jared had to go and fight another war.
Demons were a sign of incoming misfortune. But he was determined not to let those fuckers ruin what he had just gained—his wives, his new life, the fragile peace he had found in their arms.
The Forsaken Prince rode out that night with the army, heart burning with resolve.
The ice in the west was waiting.
And so were the demons.