Leornars rose from the stone bench, rolling his shoulders to work out the tension. The phantom illusion of the snake dissipated as the bird he had "caught" fluttered away in a panic.
"Can I have my hand back now?" Leornars asked dryly.
The silver-white glow in his left palm faded as Althelia relinquished her grip. "It was a temporary loan," she remarked, her voice echoing in his mind with a hint of playfulness.
Leornars walked toward the edge of the garden, his gaze drifting toward the shimmering line where the sky met the earth. "Hey, Althelia... have you ever wondered what lies on the other side of the horizon? What kind of bliss—or fantasy—is waiting out there?"
"Probably just more darkness," Althelia replied with her characteristic pragmatism. "And more planets. Space is quite repetitive when you aren't blinded by romanticism."
Leornars hummed, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. "Perhaps. But even the darkness has a way of being gentle unlike this cursed world."
Back at the manor, the air in the kitchen was thick with the scent of cheap tea and expensive tobacco. Sheiyla Maravis watched the twins, Solvayne and Nyxelle, disappear down the hall, their small forms looking fragile against the heavy oak doors.
"Was it a good idea to talk to them?" Mikayla asked, lean and tense as she leaned against the counter.
"Maybe. Maybe not," Sheiyla sighed, her crimson hair catching the light. "That's just how the dice roll, little miss."
Mikayla's eye twitched. "Miss? Why does everyone assume I'm a child? I'm twenty years old, you crimson-haired hag."
Sheiyla let out a sharp, melodic laugh. "'Old hag'? That's a new one. For someone so small, you certainly have a sharp tongue."
"Look who's talking, you big-boobed bimbo," Mikayla snapped back.
"Ha! For a flat-chested wallpaper girl, you've got some nerve," Sheiyla countered effortlessly, rising from her seat.
"I'm not flat! I'm just... adjusting!" Mikayla barked.
The tension broke for a fleeting second as both women laughed, a rare sound in a house owned by a man like Anasil. But the mirth didn't last. Sheiyla's expression softened into something more somber.
"Why are you even here, Mikayla? Isn't your father some wealthy merchant mogul?"
Mikayla's smile vanished. "I've got problems too deep for someone like you to understand. And every single path of my misery leads back to Anasil."
"So, you're just like me," Sheiyla whispered. She glanced back toward the hallway where the twins had gone. "And those girls?"
"Discarded," Sheiyla said. "Thrown away by their parents like yesterday's trash. Anasil just picked them up because he saw a use for them."
"Trapped in a golden cage," Mikayla muttered bitterly. "Those kids are cursed just for existing near him. Should we... should we help them?"
Sheiyla's hand instinctively went to her left ribs, her fingers digging into the fabric of her shirt. "We can't beat Joshim and Bernie alone. You might be able to handle Bernie, but Joshim? He'd kill us both before we could blink."
"I could take Joshim," Sheiyla continued, her voice tight with pain, "but with this... problem... I could only hold him for ten minutes. Max."
Mikayla looked at her with genuine concern. "It hasn't healed yet?"
Sheiyla offered a bitter, twisted smile. "You can heal a sword wound, Mikayla. You can't heal a curse."
In the hunting grounds, the "sport" had turned into a slaughterhouse. Anasil stood over the mangled remains of the demi-human girl, a whip coiled in his hand. He whistled, and a mangy hyena tore into the corpse.
"Eat to your heart's content," Anasil crooned.
Viscountess Miriam turned away, retching into a silk bag. "Disgusting. Utterly, fundamentally disgusting."
"It's like watching a devil feed a demon," Count Veria remarked, though he didn't look away.
"Demons and devils are kinder than that... thing," Miriam spat, clutching her purse. "I'm leaving. If I had known Anasil was hosting this, I would have stayed home and thrown a ball."
"Do it, but make sure to invite me," Veria said with a chuckle. "I promise not to bring any 'problems.'"
Miriam scoffed. "You? Problems? You hosted that gala where the White Plague showed up! He nearly ruined my life. My tobacco stores were inches from bankruptcy because of his 'reforms.'"
Veria's laughter grew louder. "I had no idea he was coming until he was standing in the foyer! He bought my breweries right out from under me. Two hours after meeting me, he demolished them to build a 'Medical Research Institute.'"
"What's so funny about that?" Miriam asked, horrified.
"He bought my life's work in two hours," Veria said, shaking his head. "The sheer efficiency of it... it's terrifyingly beautiful."
Their conversation died as Anasil approached. He was drenched in blood, his eyes wide and manic. In his palm, he held a single, blood-stained tooth. "A souvenir," he whispered, smiling at them with teeth that looked just as sharp.
Leornars took a bite of a crisp apple as he walked through the marketplace of Asheviliah.
"By now, King Alaric should be rethinking who his allies are," Leornars mused.
"And you are both his ally and his enemy," Althelia noted.
"Of course. I'll eventually have to kill him. I can't tolerate a double agent who neglects his citizens. That's not how a ruler should function."
"And you happen to know how one should?"
"I'm the beast of burden, Althelia. I'll do the dirty work. Whether they hate me for it or not, I'll bring stability. Dirrium is already a vassal state of Avangard. I've made racism a crime, installed new judges, and brought in doctors. That bloodline was tainted—I simply cut out the rot."
"Like you did with Luiphonia?"
"Luiphonia was a puppet. He had it coming. Now Seraphim has Louis as Empress. She's meeting my expectations for now, but I wonder how she'll handle a real crisis—war, or perhaps a shifting climate."
"Will you help her?"
"I'll advise her. She's a Queen; she needs to stand on her own. But if a threat arrives from the Eastern Empire—like Luiphonia's older brother, or Natalie's brother—I'll deal with them before they even set foot in my territory."
Back in the manor, Sheiyla and Mikayla attempted to walk calmly into the living room. Joshim was sitting there, methodically eating a slice of an apple. He didn't even look up as they passed.
"Whatever you're planning," Joshim said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble, "don't. It's a death sentence to oppose Anasil."
"What could you possibly be implying?" Mikayla asked, her hand hovering inches from the hilt of her blade.
"Beats me," Joshim said, standing up to leave.
The tension in the room was a physical weight. Just as Joshim reached the door, Bernie strolled in, eyes glinting with sadistic glee as he looked between the three of them.
"My, my, my," Bernie purred, his smile widening. "What did I miss? It smells like... treason in here."
Without a word, Sheiyla and Mikayla pushed past him, their hearts racing as the shadow of the manor seemed to grow even darker.