The main hall of Bloodwing Manor was steeped in shadows, its ancient walls echoing the somber history of those who had lived here in the past.

The scent of old wood and a chilling atmosphere of blood and despair seemed to settle into every crevice of the lower halls. Oberon, once a figure of royal power, now hobbled through this grandeur, leaning heavily on a walking stick, his other arm hanging limp and useless at his side.

After knowing who was going to come in through those front doors, he ordered every servant to get out of his sight.

The grand doors of the manor swung open abruptly, admitting a figure that cut through the cold like a beam of warm darkness. It was a woman, her presence chilling yet filled with a maternal urgency that had been absent these past torturous days.

“Mother!” Oberon’s voice cracked with emotion, his usual composure dissolving as he saw the familiar face of his mother.

“My Oberon!” Rebecca gasped, her face overwhelmed with relief and sorrow as she rushed towards her son. But Oberon’s eyes widened when he tripped on his limp foot due to his haste, “Urgh!” He groaned as his face smashed onto the cold marble floor as he fell down.

“My son!” Rebecca gasped as she rushed and pulled him up immediately, “Did you get hurt anywhere?” She asked as she held his arms firmly in worry.

“Urhh…mother…my arm…” Oberon winced, the pain sharp as his mother’s grip inadvertently tightened around his crippled limb.

Rebecca immediately released him, stepping back with a gasp of horror. Her hands gently caressed his limp arm, her eyes misting with tears, “I am so sorry, son. I am not used to seeing you like this…” Her voice trailed off, the sight of her once strong son now fragile and broken wrenching her heart.

He was meant to be the next king, yet here he was, struggling to run and even stand. Why would fate be so cruel to him?

“Why are you still walking like this? I have no doubt our physicians could make you certain artifacts to help you walk normally,” Rebecca fretted, the pain in her voice echoing around the high ceilings.

Oberon clenched his jaw, his resolve hardening, “No, mother. They said I might have a chance to recover faster if I keep relying on my own body. I won’t let that vermin get away with this. I will show him that this won’t break me, and he is going to regret it.”

“That is my son. You are doing good,” Rebecca affirmed, her smile cold with vengeance as she admired her son’s unyielding spirit.

“But…why were you gone for the past few days without even showing your face for even a moment here? I kept waiting for you, and I couldn’t even sleep when this place became **ing miserable without you,” Oberon confessed, his expression twisting with anguish as he recalled the nightmarish visions of getting tortured under that alien bastard and Rhygar that haunted him in her absence.

Only in her presence did the specters of his fears dissolve enough to grant him some semblance of peace, enough to sleep, even if just a wink.

“You could have at least shown up here during nights even if you have to work for…” Oberon trailed off with an expression wracked with rage and resentment, thinking how his mother was being ordered around by his worst enemy.

He couldn’t imagine his strong and proud mother having to bend her back for him and hated that he was helpless to do anything and that she was in this position because of him.

He then immediately asked with a hint of hesitation, “He…he isn’t illtreating you or anything, is he?” He noticed his mother’s face seemed a bit paler and her eyes seemed a bit weary.

Upon hearing Oberon’s probing question, Rebecca’s expression momentarily faltered, her features tightening as fleeting memories of her recent humiliations flickered across her mind like shadows.

She was tormented by an alien fiend, an ordeal bathed in pain and degradation that she fervently wished to shield from her son.

Her heart clenched—not just with the mental pain of those nights, but with the shame and the unbearable thought of her son seeing her so diminished.

Struggling to maintain her composure, she mustered an apologetic smile, her voice tinged with a feigned reassurance, “I am sorry, my dear. Mother had to do some important work during those hours, and it involves trying to learn the secrets of the bastard we want to annihilate. So you have to understand if I keep being busy like this. It is to ensure we will get everything we want. I promise.”

Oberon’s eyes brightened, hope flickering within as he grasped onto the idea of vengeance that his mother presented—a silver lining he was too eager to believe. Yet, a shadow of sadness lingered, knowing these quests kept her from him, “I understand, Mother. I will gladly wait as long as you can finally tear him apart once and for all. I am even prepared to sacrifice another limb just to see it happen,” he declared, his face contorting with a resolve born of anger and pain.

Rebecca’s heart ached at his words, but her voice was resolute, her assurance firm, “You will never have to sacrifice anything more,” she vowed, her eyes gleaming with a chilling determination. “I will make him shed tears of blood before us one day. He has no idea what is awaiting him.”

Above them, unnoticed by the intense exchange below, Silvan stood quietly at the railing of the second floor. His presence was like a ghost—seen but unnoticed, his calm demeanor in stark contrast to the storm of emotions swirling below. He watched the mother and son with an unreadable expression. With a silent, thoughtful turn, he walked away, each step echoing softly in the corridor.

—

The atmosphere around Dreadthorne Castle was almost palpably tense, the cold air biting as it whipped around the ancient stone battlements. The usual solemnity of the place was further intensified on this day, a sense of expectancy hanging as heavily as the dark clouds overhead.

Suddenly, the stillness broke. A great shadow swept across the ground as a massive creature descended from the sky. Its scales were black as the deepest night, absorbing light rather than reflecting it. The guards of House Thorne, upon recognizing the arrival, hurried forward, their movements a mixture of reverence and urgency.

As Grimeras landed with a thunderous grace, Asher dismounted, his presence garnering immediate attention.

Close behind him, Eradicator followed, her armor dark silver and her cape crimson, a stark contrast to the bleak surroundings. The helmet she wore obscured her features, save for the dark red lights glowing menacingly from the slits where her eyes would be. The assembled guards bowed deeply in the presence of their king.

Surveying the castle with a hint of nostalgia, Asher remarked lightly, “It’s been a while since I have been to such a cold place. Do you like the lands around here, Eradicator?”

Eradicator turned towards him, her voice as cold and emotionless as the armor she wore, “I have no such needs or wants, Your Majesty. I only care about your wishes.”

Asher exhaled a helpless sigh, a wry smile playing on his lips as he moved towards the entrance, flanked by the guards, “I don’t know if I should feel glad about it or not.”

Eradicator gave him a silent look before turning her head away, her thoughts as hidden as her face.

As Asher stepped onto the porch of the castle, the heavy doors swung open. Emerging from the shadowed interior were Thorin, his presence as imposing as the fortress he commanded, and Esther, ethereal with her long silver hair and pale red eyes.

Behind them, a retinue of servants and guards bowed deeply in deference.

However, the moment she stepped out, Esther caught Asher’s gaze for a fleeting moment, and his knowing smile made her instinctively avert her eyes.

Wait…why was she hiding from his gaze when he was the one who put her in trouble.

“Welcome to my home, Your Majesty. You didn’t have to come all the way here when I would have arrived at your castle if you wanted,” Thorin greeted, his voice devoid of warmth but not of intensity. He bowed his head slightly, an acknowledgment more of a formality than subservience.

Asher’s smile broadened slightly, tinged with an unreadable intent, “Of course. I personally came here because the matter that I want to discuss requires me to.”

Thorin’s eyes narrowed briefly, sensing the gravity behind Asher’s words. Esther, meanwhile, stood slightly behind, her mind racing with speculating what he was talking about and how he was even thick-skinned enough to show up here after putting her House through so much.

How was he going to deal with Thorin when Thorin had already decided not to let him off this time?

Did he come here to beg? Esther didn’t know why she was so concerned about Asher’s matters when she should only care about the issues of her House.

Soon enough, the grand hall of the castle seemed even more imposing under the weight of silence that had settled after Seron and Asher disappeared into the guest room. Outside, Esther paced slowly, her face expressionless, yet her movements betraying her inner turmoil. Sabina, ever watchful, guided her mother to a plush sofa.

“Mother, why do you look so tense? I am sure they are going to sort it out in a calm way,” Sabina said, her smile a blend of playfulness and reassurance.

Esther’s expression tightened, her brows knitting together as she considered the weight of the moment, “The future of this House and this kingdom might worsen together. I don’t know what I should do to fix it all,” she confessed, her voice briefly wavering.

Sabina gently placed her hand over her mother’s, her touch soft but firm, “It’s not like you to worry so much, Mother. What happened with Asher exactly?” she probed, sensing the depth of her mother’s distress.

Esther’s features faltered, a flicker of emotion crossing her face before she regained her composed facade, “Nothing except that I committed mistakes,” she replied, her voice flat, attempting to dismiss the topic.

“Ohh…” Sabina’s lips formed an ‘O’, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief, “Did he do something bad, Mother?”

The question unwittingly evoked memories in Esther that she struggled to suppress—the heat of forbidden moments flashing vividly in her mind, causing an involuntary blush to spread across her cheeks. The sudden rush of warmth left her momentarily flustered, making her wonder how her blood could move out of control like that.

“Your cheeks became a bit red. Are you thinking of anything stressful, Mother?” Sabina asked in a concerned tone, though her ghostly red eyes glowed with an amused light.

Esther stood abruptly, her breath catching as she fought to regain her composure, “Just wait here and let me know when they are done,” she said quickly, eager to escape the probing eyes of her daughter before she reveals something unnecessary by accident.

Sabina bit back a smile, her expression growing more amused.

However, just as Esther took a step toward the grand hallway, intending to find a quiet corner to collect her thoughts, the doors of the guest room swung open. Both Thorin and Asher stepped out and the sight of them halted Esther in her tracks, her heart momentarily faltering as she wondered the outcome of their discussion.

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