Dammit. Forget it. Doesn't matter now.
I've gotta get to Ma. But I can't — not with this bastard standing in the way.
Wish I could just kill him.
But he's too strong.
And he's holding Lyriana.
Dumb bitch.
Maybe if you and your dumbass brother...
He glanced at Aldric.
If you hadn't attacked without thinking, maybe this would've gone differently.
Aldric stood rigid, his jaw clenched, that crimson eye burning with fury — but he didn't move.
He just stared.
Draven, still beside him, took a breath.
Held it.
Exhaled slowly.
Calm down.
The sooner I deal with this bastard, the sooner I can move on.
Get to Ma. That's all that matters.
He took one step forward, eyes locked on Ivan. His voice cut through the silence — low and steady.
"Okay. Cut the shit. What is it you actually want?"
He didn't even wait for an answer.
"It's damn clear you aren't here for a reunion. And since you seem to hate me so much — so damn disgusted by me bein' a mixed-blood — and yet, you still didn't even try to attack me."
His fingers twitched near his dagger.
"Even though you could've. But you didn't."
He took a breath — not calm, just focused.
"So what is it?
You're not here to kill me — that much I can say for now.
And you're holdin' a hostage."
His eyes flicked toward Lyriana.
"So what the hell are you really after?"
Silence followed. Heavy. Thick with tension.
Then Ivan let out a quiet hum, tilting his head slightly.
A small smile crept across his lips.
"Hmm… For someone with such disgusting blood, you're surprisingly sharp."
He glanced down at Lyriana in his grip, then back at Draven, eyes gleaming.
"I'll give you that."
Ivan's smile didn't fade.
If anything, it deepened.
"Since you're asking so nicely… I want something of mine. Something you have.
Something I once gave you."
Draven didn't move, but his eyes narrowed.
Ivan's voice lowered.
"You still have it, don't you? The Spirit Egg."
The words hung in the air like a blade.
He raised Lyriana slightly — just enough to remind them she was still in his grip.
"So be a good little nephew, and give it back."
Draven's eyes widened — just for a second — before they burned with disbelief.
He stared at Ivan like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
Then he raised his hand, placing it on his head, scratching his white hair.
He dragged his hand down his face, muttering almost to himself:
"Are you fucking kidding me right now?"
He looked up again, his voice louder, sharper.
"All of this for that damn rock?"
He scoffed — half laughing, half pissed.
"If you wanted it that badly," he snapped, "you could've just fucking asked.
Or better yet, shouldn't have handed it over in the first damn place."
His expression turned cold.
His voice dropped — cold and dangerous.
"Let me make this clear.
If either of my siblings, or my mother and father, so much as gets a scratch —
I will kill you.
No. Matter. What."
His jaw locked.
Crimson eyes burned cold with killing intent.
Dagger steady in his hand.
Eyes never leaving Ivan's.
The words hung in the air like a promise — and a threat — all at once.
Ivan's smile went flat.
He tightened his grip on Lyriana — just enough to make her choke.
Blood bubbled at the corner of her mouth where his fingers dug in.
She spat but didn't go down — the healing still doing its ugly work.
He looked at Draven with something like amusement — cold as ice.
"You've got one minute to bring me the Spirit Stone," Ivan said.
"One minute. Or I kill her."
The words hung in the corridor like thunder.
Aldric's body tensed, as if to move — crimson mana licking up his arms —
but Ivan's gaze snapped to him, and the promise in his voice was lethal.
"One more twitch, and she dies. I won't warn you twice."
Lyriana coughed, her eyes wild.
Draven didn't move.
Still staring at Ivan — those growling red eyes dark with decision.