The road to Kovu was unlike any Snake or Dragon had walked before.No sound of birds, no whisper of wind, only silence and light that shimmered as if the air itself were half dream, half memory. The path wound between cliffs of glass that caught the moonlight, turning it into living fire.Dragon’s flame dimmed to a cautious glow. “This place… it feels like walking inside a soul.”Snake’s serpents stirred uneasily at his neck. “Or through one long dead.”Beyond the cliffs rose the spires of Kovu, the kingdom of Kiria, god of solitude. It was a place forgotten even by the gods, where stone remembered voices, and the rivers sang to no one.At the city’s gate stood a woman cloaked in starlight. Her skin shimmered like pearl dust, her hair white as frost with faint, dark undertones, the unmistakable mark of the Liroid line. But her eyes, deep gold and calm as the moon before dawn, belonged to another world entirely.“Snake of Doomsany,” she said, bowing her head with poise. “And Dragon of

Cellok’s night was not silent. It never was. The air hummed faintly with power, the soft pulse of the Tree Goddess’s roots stirring beneath the black marble of the palace floor. Priests whispered prayers through the branches that coiled above the throne room, prayers not of worship, but of remembrance.At the heart of this nocturnal kingdom sat Evilside, robed in lilies that bled silver under moonlight, chains that bound her wrist to remind her of her grief, her eyes lost in the patterns of the shadows dancing on the floor. Her throne, grown from the Tree itself, pulsed faintly with life. She did not move as the air rippled, as though reality itself had drawn a breath.From the space between reflections, Cirax stepped forth. The eldest of the gods of old appeared as a cascade of twilight, long hair of starlit white, her presence carrying both storm and silence. Her smile was gentle, though her eyes carried the weight of a thousand reigns.“Still awake, I see,” Cirax said, her tone lil

The journey through the misted valleys of Kovu was long and bitterly cold. Dragon rode beside Snake, the torchlight from their steeds flickering against the ancient stones. They had obtained what they came for from Serpent, knowledge forbidden to most, but the weight of it lingered heavily between them.The night stretched endlessly above them, a sky of burning stars scattered over the blackened plains. The horses moved in silence, hooves whispering against the dry earth as Snake and Dragon made their way toward Cellok. Neither spoke for a while. The air was cold, carrying the faint scent of ash and iron, the remnants of distant wars.Finally, Dragon broke the silence. “Do you plan to tell her everything?” his tone was edged with unease. “Evilside doesn’t forgive easily. One wrong word, and she’ll have my head before I finish speaking.”Snake smirked beneath his hood. “She won’t. You worry too much, brother.”“That’s easy for you to say,” Dragon muttered. “You’re her confidant, her sh

The throne room of Cellok pulsed like a living heart. Shadows clung to its black marble pillars, whispering secrets older than kingdoms. Evilside sat upon her throne, her raven dark hair flowing like liquid night, her wrists bound in the broken chains that still glimmered faintly, relics of the grief that had forged her.Before her stood Heartless, the High Matron of the Liroids, and her firstborn; her gaze was sharp as frost, her tone steady, but beneath the veneer of calm flickered the tremor of frustration only a daughter could feel toward her mother.“You risk everything for one man,” Heartless said, voice ringing through the darkened hall. “One Liroid-born assassin who calls you ‘Mother.’ Do you ever think what that looks like to the others? The gods whisper, the old ones stir, and now even Kiria suspects your games.”Evilside’s eyes glowed faintly. “Snake is not just any Liroid-born. He carries my will, and my will cannot be undone.”Heartless’s jaw tightened. “You raised him yo

The palace weapons hall of Cellok was alive with sound, the sharp clang of metal, the hiss of shifting shadows, the soft whisper of blades cutting air. Rows of torches burned along the obsidian walls, their light flickering against racks of ancient weaponry: curved daggers, twin sabers, spears shaped like fangs. The room breathed violence and history.Snake stood at the center of it all, surrounded by young Liroid assassins in training. The newest from the Academy: Territory, Madness, and Cliff, all barely a century old, yet their eyes already glimmered with the dark fire of their lineage. They moved with sharp precision, mimicking Snake’s gestures, every motion measured, every strike deliberate.Across the room, watching from the shadows, was Terror, one of the eldest assassins still alive, ancient even by Liroid standards. Her dark hair flowed like the night sky, and her eyes burned like two cold suns. Every movement she made was silent, lethal, and absolute.Terror was not known fo