2025-02-24 19:52:03"THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE!" Zenthio shouts, throwing a chair across the grand hall.
Several knights move toward me, pushing me back as Zenthio charges forward. I don’t even realize he’s about to hit me until General Aziel speaks. "Enough, Lord Zenthio. I know Marquess Alessio’s decision is hard to accept, but there must be a reason he chose his third son as his successor. No one knew his sons better than he did." "You can’t be serious." Zenthio lets out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Are you blind, General? Helio is actually blind. And he isn’t pureblooded! He doesn’t deserve to be Marquess. That title should be mine!" I clench my fists. "I won’t argue with any of the insults you throw at me, Zenthio," I say, my voice steady. "But General Aziel is right. There is a reason Father chose me. Maybe it’s because he knew you’d stoop to something disgraceful just to take his place." Zenthio’s fist slams into my jaw. I stumble back, crashing into the knights trying to shield me. But I just wipe my chin, rubbing at the dull ache spreading through it. "I’m done letting you push me around, Zenthio," I say. "I’ll take this title, no matter what it costs. Because it was Father’s final wish." "That’s bullshit, Helio!" Zenthio snaps. "You took everything from me. If your pathetic mother had never married my father—if you had never been born—" "Enough, Lord Zenthio," General Aziel cuts in. "Helio, you’re coming to the capital with my entourage tonight. All of you are. In a few days, the palace will hold your investiture as Marquess, and I expect you all to behave until then." Zenthio spits on the floor. "I’d rather die than watch him take that title." "No one’s forcing you to watch," I say. ⚔️ "Helio, can’t you be a little kinder to your brothers?" Mother sighs as we sit inside the carriage, heading toward the capital. "I’ve tried, Mother," I answer, twisting Father’s Marquess ring around my finger. It’s strange—heavy in a way that has nothing to do with its weight. "Then try harder." I sigh and pretend I didn’t hear her. This is my first time leaving home, after all. My entire life, I’ve only known three places: my bedroom, the study, and the dining hall. Now, I’m bouncing around in a carriage, listening to the clatter of wheels on dirt. It’s strange. But at least Actavio is here. "Helio!" he gasps beside me, his voice high and bright with excitement. "Everything’s amazing! I wish you could see it!" I smile. "Tell me what you see, Tavvy." "So many things! Townhouses! Big fields! Mountains! Oh wow! Look at that—so many cows! I love the black and white ones!" "Gods," Zenthio groans. "Can’t you make your brother shut up, Helio? My ears are ringing from all his shouting." I ignore him. If I’m going to be Marquess, then at the very least, no one gets to silence my family. But Mother pulls Actavio into her lap anyway. "Say sorry, Tavvy," she scolds gently. "There’s nothing to apologize for, Mother," I cut in. "It’s natural for a child to be excited." "Ah, my head hurts just looking at your son, Cecil," Zenthio mutters. "Zen," I say, jaw tight. "Am I not your brother too? Or do you not see me that way anymore?" Zenthio doesn’t answer. I take that as a yes. Turning away, I let the spring wind mess up my hair. Then, I feel Lavinia squeeze my hand. When I glance at her, her face is troubled. "I don’t know what’s going on, Helio," she whispers, "but I have a bad feeling about Zenthio and Demario. Be careful. Don’t ever be alone with them." ⚔️ By nightfall, General Aziel orders us to stop by a small lake. The knights unhitch the horses, set up camp, and start cooking dinner. I sit near the fire, knees tucked to my chest, listening as Mother tells Actavio a bedtime story. "Once upon a time, there was a little prince. His hair was dark brown, unlike the golden-haired royals of pure lineage. One day, his mother, the queen, passed away from a terrible illness. Not long after, the king remarried the doctor who had spent years treating the late queen. But..." "Helio." Demario suddenly sits beside me, pressing something warm into my hand—a piece of bread, from the smell of it. "I’m sorry," he says. "For everything. I hope you don’t hate me." I blink, caught off guard. After everything he’s done—years of bullying, playing a part in our father’s death—he suddenly cares about whether or not I hate him. "What do you mean, Demario?" I ask. "Really? You’ve never cared about my feelings before." Demario clears his throat. "I mean... I was just following Zenthio. I never wanted to be that cruel, I swear—" "Okay." I sigh, taking the bread. "Either way, I want a better future for our family. Thanks for this. Who made it?" "One of General Aziel’s knights, probably. I just grabbed it from the fire." I nod, biting into the bread. Warmth spreads through my stomach, and I realize just how empty it’s been since the funeral. I also realize how tired I am. After finishing, I crawl into my tent, lying on the thin mattress, listening to the end of Mother’s story. "When the young prince was cursed into a beast by his stepmother, he swore to take back his throne and choose the perfect queen." ⚔️ Cold water splashes against my face. I jolt awake, my head spinning as I realize I’m not lying down anymore—I’m sitting. My hands are bound to a wooden chair. Actavio’s muffled sobs reach my ears. Leaves rustle softly. There’s no whisper of the lake. We’re far from camp. And then, a low, cold chuckle shatters the silence. "So, Helio," Zenthio’s voice purrs. "Are you ready for a trade?"
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034 | Between Pain and Memory (Julian)
Pain does not leave me. It clings to my skin, presses against my ribs, curls around my wrists like unseen chains. My body is sore, my limbs weak, every breath a slow, dragging effort. The damp forest floor is cold beneath me, but my fever makes everything feel unbearably warm, as if I am burning from the inside out.I do not know how long I have been here. Long enough for the world to blur. Long enough for my mind to slip between the present and the past. And in that haze of exhaustion, of pain, of near delirium, I remember the city. The City That Had Nothing LeftI remember standing in the streets of my home and realizing it was no longer mine. The city had been drained.The marketplace that once thrived with merchants and traders was now filled with empty stalls and sunken-eyed vendors. Goods that had once been within reach—fine fabrics, fresh produce, spiced tea—were now luxuries only the wealthiest could afford. The people were struggling.I had seen fathers counting their last co
033 | Secrets Beneath the City (Helio)
The underground market is a place that should not exist—at least, not in the eyes of the nobility. It thrives beneath the heart of the city, hidden beneath layers of cobbled streets and forgotten tunnels. To those who live above, it is merely a rumor, a whispered secret passed between cautious lips.But to those who know how to find it, it is something else entirely.A refuge. A kingdom of its own. A place where laws bend and reality shifts, where magic is not bound by the careful rules of scholars and noble bloodlines.The entrance is unremarkable—an old iron grate set into a quiet alleyway, half-buried in debris. To the unknowing, it looks like nothing more than a forgotten drainage system, long abandoned. But beneath it, a staircase carves into the earth, leading to something far older than the city above.I step forward first, feeling the shift in the air the moment my boot touches the stone. Hale follows closely, muttering under his breath about the smell—a mixture of damp earth,
032 | Flicker of Hope (Helio)
The tension in my hands lingers long after we leave Zenthio’s office.My steps are steady, my posture composed, but something raw lingers beneath my skin. The weight of his words—he’s probably dead—still coils in my chest, threatening to drag my mind into a place I do not wish to go.But I cannot afford to lose focus. Not now.Hale walks beside me, his hands shoved into his coat pockets, his usual sharp remarks absent. Rhea follows a step behind, silent, her face hidden beneath the loose strands of her dark hair. She has not spoken since we left the office.The estate is quieter than I remember. Too quiet. The servants keep their heads down as we pass, their eyes avoiding mine, their footsteps hurried as if they fear they will be punished simply for being seen. The walls, though untouched in their grandeur, feel emptier. The great tapestries still hang in the corridors, the chandeliers still cast their golden light upon the marble floors, but there is no warmth. No life.We pass the h
031 | Homecoming as a Foe (Helio)
The gates of the Marquess’s estate stand before me, just as they always have—imposing, grand, and heavy with the weight of a legacy I once called my own. The wrought iron, polished to a merciless shine, gleams under the midday sun, its intricate patterns curling like the veins of an old tree.I have walked through these gates before. I was raised behind them. Yet today, as I step forward with Hale and Rhea at my side, I am a guest in my own home.The knights stationed at the entrance stand rigid, their polished armor reflecting the light like mirrors of steel. They recognize me instantly—of course, they do—but their hands tighten around their weapons, unsure of what to do with their knowledge.The hesitation is thick in the air.Once, they would have bowed without question. Once, they would have greeted me as a son of the house Alessio, not as an outsider. But times have changed. And so have I.I hear their whispers before I even pass the threshold."The blind heir has returned.""The
030 | A Rotting Soul (Nyx)
I exist in many places at once.The city whispers my name in the dark, a flickering shadow slipping through the cracks of locked doors, lingering in the hush of frightened voices. In alleyways, men speak of me in cautious tones. In grand halls, nobles glance over their shoulders, wondering if I am watching.Children, huddled beneath their blankets, hear stories of the man who walks between worlds, the specter who listens even when no one is watching. They say I can be anywhere. That I am everywhere.And they are not wrong. I walk the halls of Lavinia’s mansion, where illusions weave themselves into reality like a second skin.I stand in Zenthio’s mansion, where cruelty is currency, and the weak are devoured whole.And now, I am here. The Queen’s palace.The morning light filters through the stained-glass windows, casting fractured colors across the polished marble floor. The scent of spiced tea and warm pastries lingers in the air, mingling with the sharp ink of freshly opened letters
029 | Ashes and Fear (Helio)
The aroma of tea drifts through the small dining room, weaving into the morning air like a gentle promise of warmth. The scent of toasted bread lingers beneath it, rich with butter, mingling with the faint traces of honey and herbs. The wooden table, though plain and slightly uneven, is covered with simple ceramic dishes, a teapot at its center, steam curling lazily from its spout.It is a humble meal. But there is something oddly grounding about it.I lift my teacup, feeling the comforting warmth seep into my fingertips as I take a slow sip. The bitter taste is softened by honey, smooth and lingering on my tongue. I exhale, setting the cup down with a quiet clink against the wooden surface.Across from me, Hale is already halfway through his second sandwich, chewing with little care for propriety. His younger sister, Ellemira, watches him with a mix of amusement and disapproval, her own hands wrapped delicately around a cup of tea that looks too large for her small fingers.Rhea, how
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