A TOUCH TOO CLOSE
Xavier Cleaning the Stables—Internal Conflict Builds
The stables were quiet, save for the rustle of hay and the occasional restless huff from the horses. The scent of sweat, leather, and pine hung in the air. Golden morning light filtered through slats in the stable wall, striping the floor with beams that danced every time the wind breathed.
Xavier worked without pause. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, and his hands were blistered and coated with grain dust. He hauled a bucket of water, poured it into a trough, and moved to the next stall with mechanical focus. His tunic clung to him with sweat.
The more he worked, the more he hoped it would silence the
ELDER MOSES RETURNSArrival of the Cloaked FigureThe clatter of hooves against the palace stone sent ripples through the inner courtyard. Guards stiffened. Maids and pages froze mid-step. A wind blew with no source, curling around the high spires as though the palace itself inhaled and held its breath.Two-horned wolves, their coats the color of burnt ash, trotted alongside a dark-cloaked rider who bore no sigil, no standard—only a long wooden staff etched with age-worn runes and wrapped with a strip of black silk.The man dismounted with a grace that betrayed his years. His eyes were a fogged silver, unfocused but piercing in their stillness. His skin was the texture of dried
THE HIDDEN POOLA Risky Escape into the ForestThe moon rode high, veiled behind drifting clouds, casting silver slashes through the canopy as Xavier led Blythe through the dense, breathless woods. Their cloaks swayed with every step, boots barely whispering over moss and fallen pine needles. Each movement was calculated and silent, as if even the trees might betray them."Should I be worried?" Blythe asked under her breath.Xavier glanced back, shadows flickering across his face. "Only if you can't keep up."A twitch of a smile tugged at her lips. "So this is where you take rebellious queens?"
A BROKEN LETTERVito in His War Study—Mood BrewingThe war chamber pulsed with tension. Thick with the scent of old ash, tallow smoke, and parchment ink, it felt more like a den than a chamber of governance. Shadows curled along the walls, disturbed only by the flame of two braziers that flickered like they were afraid to stay lit.The table in the room's center was no ordinary desk. Forged from obsidian, its surface was veined with scarlet metal that glowed faintly in low light—a relic from the mines beneath the Stone Fangs. Across it sprawled war maps, documents, coded ledgers, and half-melted wax seals from every region of the fractured kingdom.Vito stood over it like
A WHISPER IN THE GARDENCeres Walking Alone in the Royal Garden—Seeking SolaceThe garden was alive with soft breath. Dew clung to the petals like memory, and a faint wind danced through the willow branches, whispering secrets too old to name. Ceres wandered the paved path in her slippers, arms crossed tight over her chest.The marble benches were still cold from the night. The roses, untouched by hand or blade, bloomed in chaotic clusters. Somewhere above, a dove cooed from the greenhouse's rafters.Ceres paused by the ghost-bloom tree, fingers brushing its bark."They think I don't see. That I don't know what they
A TOUCH TOO CLOSEXavier Cleaning the Stables—Internal Conflict BuildsThe stables were quiet, save for the rustle of hay and the occasional restless huff from the horses. The scent of sweat, leather, and pine hung in the air. Golden morning light filtered through slats in the stable wall, striping the floor with beams that danced every time the wind breathed.Xavier worked without pause. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, and his hands were blistered and coated with grain dust. He hauled a bucket of water, poured it into a trough, and moved to the next stall with mechanical focus. His tunic clung to him with sweat.The more he worked, the more he hoped it would silence the
XAVIER'S NIGHTMAREFitful Sleep in the Omega Quarters.The omega quarters were buried deep in the east wing, far from the glitter of the court or the echo of commands. The walls were round and damp, shaped like the belly of a forgotten cave. A lantern hung from a ceiling hook, casting a sleepy amber light over the stone floor. Shadows stretched long and thin across the rows of cots.Someone coughed quietly in the corner.A snore rose, sharp and sudden, then fell back into silence."Too quiet tonight," murmured a voice near the wall.Xavier said nothing.
BETA VEGAS STIRS THE POTRoyal Breakfast Hall—MorningThe morning sun spilt through the stained-glass windows, casting long trails of amber and ruby across the polished floor. A gentle hum of cutlery and porcelain filled the royal breakfast chamber. Despite the tranquility, tension braided into the air.Blythe sat at the head of the long obsidian table, a half-filled teacup before her, its jasmine scent rising in soft curls. Her silk robe shimmered faintly as she lifted the cup to her lips.Across from her, Beta Vegas observed.“You glow differently this morning, Your Grace,” he said smoothly.
THE MOONLIGHT DUELThe Royal Training Ring—MidnightClack.The sound of wooden blades meeting echoed under the stars.Blythe spun, her braid catching the wind, feet light on the sand of the ring. Sweat traced a line down her spine. Across from her, Xavier crouched low, shoulders taut, watching her every move.“You’re hesitating again,” she said.“I’m calculating,” he replied, eyes sharp. “Not all of us throw ourselves at death with the grace of a dancer.”She lunged.He dodged—barely. Her staff skimmed his shoulder.“That was the warning shot,” she teased.“I don’t need warnings,” Xavier said, coming in low. Their weapons clashed again—strike, block, twist—until he disarmed her with a flick and pinned her wrist behind her back.She let out a breathless laugh. “Show-off.”
CERES WATCHES THE MOONThe Royal Balcony — Late NightThe night was windless, but the howls echoed through the marble halls.Ceres stood barefoot on the edge of the palace balcony, her hair unbraided and her silver nightgown fluttering around her ankles. The moon was high, round, and full, mocking her with its calm."They're louder tonight," she murmured."Wolves always howl when they sense unrest," came a soft voice behind her.Ceres didn't turn. "Is that what this is?"Her reflection in the glass door looked back—still, pale, older than thirteen."Is this what heartbreak smells like?" she asked.Ferra, the omega maid with a mouth too loose and footsteps too quiet, came forward with a shawl. "You shouldn't be out here barefoot, my lady.""Why? Will the wind tell on me?"Ferra chuckled. "No, but your mother might."Ceres finally turned, watching Ferra with n