"The Garden of Arlette," Kulmar began calmly, as if delivering a lecture rather than orchestrating a catastrophe. "The sacred sanctuary tended by your so-called saint. The lie your church fed to the public for generations."
His gloved hand brushed gently against Lyra's cocoon.
"This garden holds two secrets."
Urillia's golden eyes narrowed, though for once they offered her no advantage.
"First," he continued, "it is not merely a garden. It is a seal—a prison constructed and maintained by Sage Fionalla to suppress the power of the Noctyrix."
A faint crack spread across the cocoon behind him.
"Second... your devoted priest used subtle enchantments to influence the public. Devotion, prayer, reverence—faith itself was woven into the magic circle beneath the soil. Their worship stabilized the seal."
Urillia's expression hardened.
"So the garden was sustained by belief."
"Precisely." Kulmar smiled. "Faith is such a convenient fuel."
Her voice turned colder. "Is that why you manipulated the city council? To fracture that belief and weaken the seal?"
Kulmar gave a slow, approving nod.
"I needed only to influence a handful of ambitious officials. Suggest profit. Suggest development. Suggest that the land could serve a greater economic purpose."
A low chuckle escaped him.
"It is amusing, really. The church created a seal dependent on human unity... as if that were not a demon's favorite game to exploit."
"So the conflict between the clergy and the council... was engineered."
"It required patience," he admitted. "Months of careful tension. Doubt planted here. Greed nurtured there. Soon faith fractured, and the seal began to destabilize."
The red sky above flickered.
"And once confusion reigned," he continued, adjusting his glasses, "locating the Sage became simple. She retreated into hiding the moment she sensed the imbalance. Unfortunately for her... that confirmed my suspicions."
"You hunted her," Urillia said flatly.
"I corrected a loose variable."
Her jaw tightened.
"Why are you revealing all of this to me?"
Kulmar's gaze sharpened.
"Because you are a princess of Azel. You should understand why one of your empire's most prestigious cities is about to fall."
His voice lost its playfulness.
"The Sage made a critical error. She relocated the Noctyrix's seal to this garden years ago. The previous prison was weaker—but far more hidden. By binding it to a public monument, she strengthened it... and simultaneously exposed it."
His shadow stretched unnaturally long.
"That decision opened a doorway for us."
Urillia felt it then—the horrifying scale of the scheme.
"So for years," she said slowly, "you poisoned Talagra. Corrupted its politics. Orchestrated division. All to free one sealed demon."
Kulmar's smile did not falter.
"And removed the Sage when she became inconvenient."
A pause.
"Yes."
Behind him, Lyra's cocoon pulsed violently, cracks spider-webbing across its surface like fractures in glass.
Kulmar tilted his head slightly.
"You call it corruption."
He looked at the city below, burning.
"I call it inevitability."
"I could have wiped Talagra off the map in a single night," Kulmar said casually, glancing toward the burning skyline below. "But what pleasure is there in simple destruction?"
His fingers brushed the cracking cocoon.
"Chaos is far more satisfying when it blooms from within."
His voice turned almost bored.
"At the time, I wasn't certain how powerful the Sage truly was. Fionalla once stood among legends... but age devours even legends. Her aura had thinned. Her body weakened. In the end, she was merely an old woman clinging to nature magic."
A faint smirk crossed his lips.
"Convenient."
He paused, adjusting his glasses.
"With every piece placed... every official nudged... every priest manipulated... every rumor seeded... there remained only one final requirement."
His eyes locked onto Urillia.
"You."
For the first time, uncertainty flickered across her face.
"What do you mean?"
Kulmar's smile widened.
"When Noctyrix was sealed in the Carja Republic, there was a man who struck a quiet bargain with the Holy Church. He possessed golden eyes — eyes capable of perceiving the truth behind ancient magic."
Urillia felt her heartbeat falter.
"He believed that one day, he could unseal the Noctyrix and weaponize her against demonkind."
Kulmar's voice lowered.
"The key he used was known as the Draak Eyes."
Silence swallowed the garden.
"That man," Kulmar continued softly, "was the previous emperor of Azel."
The words struck harder than any blade.
Urillia's golden pupils trembled.
Her hands were still resting upon Lyra's cocoon.
And suddenly—
She understood.
She wasn't reversing the seal.
She was completing it.
Her Draak Eyes were the final lock.
Or rather—
The final key.
The cocoon pulsed violently beneath her palms.
Kulmar chuckled.
"You were the only royal currently bearing the full Draak inheritance. Pulling you here required careful bait."
He leaned closer.
"A whisper about the Sage. A suggestion of instability in Talagra. Just enough to stir your ambition."
"Your true goal," he continued smoothly, "was never the church or the poisoned citizens."
The accusation cut clean.
"You intended to secure the Sage's allegiance for your silent inheritance war against your brother."
The red sky flickered as cracks deepened across the cocoon.
"You wear the mask of duty beautifully, Princess. But like all royals... you pursue power."
Each word struck like a hammer against glass.
"You speak of protecting the people, yet you calculate futures where you sit on the throne."
The air trembled.
"So I ask you... are you truly here for Talagra?"
He tilted his head.
"Or for yourself?"
The princess's expression shattered for the briefest fraction of a second.
Then it froze.
Cold.
Still.
Perfect.
"So," she said calmly, withdrawing her hands from the cocoon, "there is a mole within the empire."
Kulmar blinked once.
Ah.
There it is.
"Even now," he murmured, amused, "you redirect the blade."
A faint smile curled upon her lips.
"You needed inside information to predict my movements."
Her golden eyes glimmered — not with panic, but calculation.
"You knew I would come personally. You knew I would seek the Sage. You knew the state of the inheritance dispute."
Her gaze sharpened.
"That information does not leave the palace."
Kulmar studied her, then laughed quietly.
"Now I understand why they call you the Cold Princess."
Even with the revelation of betrayal.
Even with the knowledge that she had been manipulated.
Even with the realization that she had nearly unleashed catastrophe herself—
She smiled.
But it wasn't calm.
It wasn't detached.
It was dangerous.
Because she had realized something else.
"If there is a mole," she said softly, "then that means your network is exposed."
Kulmar's smirk thinned.
"And if your plan required my Draak Eyes..."
Her aura flickered faintly, unstable but resolute.
"...then you still need me alive."
The cocoon pulsed again.
A fracture split across its surface like lightning.
Kulmar's shadow surged.
"You're quick, Princess."
"And you," she replied, "talk too much."