Aiden, after getting Elliott's silent confirmation that he was going to listen, finally turned to Gabriella.
"What did you find about the shadow?"
Gabriella's voice dropped. Quieter now, heavier. "...It's... well. Blood magic, put simply."
Aiden's gaze hardened. He didn't know the specifics, but the word alone was enough to knot his gut. "Blood magic?"
She nodded. "An ancient, forbidden witchcraft. The kind only blood witches—predominantly found in Altheria—were ever said to practice. But they've been thought extinct for centuries. Burned at the stake whenever discovered, because any land that harbored them was bound to attract misfortune and ruin sooner or later. They were powerful allies, yes. But having one at your side was the same as sealing your own fate. Only a reckless tyrant—bloodthirsty, defiant—would dare to keep one."
Aiden's mind raced ahead of her words. Before she even named a name, he already knew. "Cyrus. You suspect Cyrus has one."
Gabriella crossed her arms, her expression sharp. "I don't suspect. I know. He's had her since the very start of his reign. Do you think it wasn't suspicious—how he managed to wipe out the entire royal family and still avoid any accusation stronger than whispers? When he rose to power, she rose with him. A woman out of nowhere. Made his closest advisor. Rarely seen in open court, and when she is, her face is hidden beneath a veil. She speaks little. She only interacts with him. Some even say they share... an intimate relationship."
Aiden's brow arched. "Intimate? As in... romantic?"
"As romantic as a blood witch can be," Gabriella said flatly, her eyes cold. "Blood witches can't love. She seduced him, most likely. No one says it out loud, but that's the only explanation. Some whisper it's really her on that throne. That Cyrus is nothing but a means to her end. And it makes sense. That's the thing about tyrants—once you understand them, they're absurdly easy to play. Especially in the bedroom. He thinks he's in charge, thinks every order is his will. He doesn't even realize he's being controlled—because she makes him believe it's all his idea."
Aiden's hands curled into fists. "So... Cyrus has a blood witch. The shadows are blood magic. He's targeting Elliott?"
Gabriella shook her head. That would've been her first thought too, but no.
"Unlikely. Shadows can't harm Lightbearers directly. They're opposites. They can't exist in Elliott's presence, or within a solar temple. The sun's blood alone protects him. That's why the rise of blood witches remained confined to Altheria, even in their peak. Every blood witch knows—their magic doesn't work against the sun. That's probably why the shadow vanished immediately when Elliott looked over. You said it did."
Aiden could only nod. It had. It had dissolved like smoke when Elliott's eyes turned.
Before he could speak again, Elliott's voice cut in. His eyes were wide, his expression stricken.
"Wait... you said shadows can't enter solar temples. Not even the periphery?"
Gabriella nodded. "As far as I'm aware, yes."
A memory resurfaced in Elliott's mind, sharp and sudden. Though it had only happened less than twenty-four hours ago, so much had transpired since, it felt like a lifetime away.
"Last evening... I met Carlson. At the temple."
Aiden's eyes sharpened instantly. Elliott had expected that reaction—considering how wary Aiden was of Carlson.
"He didn't say anything strange. It was a normal conversation. But when he was leaving... after he'd crossed the periphery of the temple and was getting into his carriage—he stopped. He looked around, like he saw something. He searched, but didn't seem to find anything. Then he left. At the time, I thought maybe he'd been tricked by an illusion, since night was setting. But now..." Elliott hesitated, his throat tightening. "Now, I'm not sure."
Gabriella's expression went blank, but Elliott knew her mind was racing beneath the calm surface.
"Most likely, that was one of the shadows," she said finally. "Which means this much is clear—Cyrus has his little pets roaming our capital. But the target isn't Elliott. And it isn't Aiden either."
Aiden frowned. "Not Elliott?"
"No." Gabriella's tone was firm. "The shadow couldn't even exist near him. And you," she glanced at Aiden, "are almost always at his side. Sending shadows after either of you would be reckless and pointless. It's someone else Cyrus is after."
"You mean... he has another enemy inside our empire?" Elliott asked slowly. "I mean—sending shadows shows desperation. Forbidden magic, sent into our capital of all places—where they could easily be seen, detected..."
Gabriella nodded gravely. "Exactly. And that's why this matters. I have information coming in soon from his court. One of my spies managed to infiltrate his order of knights—the ones he uses for his dirtiest work. Maybe that will bring clarity. Because right now... this is bigger than we thought. If Cyrus has an enemy here dangerous enough to drive him to this..." She paused, her eyes narrowing with a dangerous glint. "Then that enemy might just be our greatest ally. If we strike first."
---
Night had only just begun to set when there was a commotion outside Elliott's chambers.
Aiden perked up immediately, his stance tightening, posture shifting into sharp alertness. Gabriella had excused herself earlier, which meant now, it was only the two of them in the chambers.
"Is there someone outside the door...?" Elliott asked, hearing the muffled noise.
Aiden was already moving, slipping outside to check before Elliott even finished the question.
After a moment, he stepped back in. His expression was serious, his tone deliberately dismissive. "It's nothing."
"Well, it's something," Elliott said stubbornly. "Noise doesn't come from nothing."
Aiden didn't meet his eyes. "You're injured. It's not necessary to deal with this now."
Elliott sighed, almost in admonishment. "Aiden." His voice was soft, firm. "Please."
Aiden finally met his gaze. He was clearly unwilling to explain, but it was equally clear Elliott wasn't going to let this go. After a beat of silence, Aiden exhaled sharply and said, "...The High Priest is asking for an audience."
"Let him in," Elliott replied instantly.
Aiden's expression turned indignantly furious. "You seriously want to meet him right now? After you got injured because he was the one reluctant to lower the mirrors? He's only showing you the right tone now because he realized you don't hold 'disfavor.' Don't you remember? Initially, he was fine with you being impaled by glass shards if it was the order of some so-called god!"
Elliott sighed again. He understood Aiden's fury—he even appreciated it—but he also understood the priest's position, and the temple as a whole wasn't truly at fault.
"You can't blame the man for his faith, Aiden," he said gently. "He's a priest. His whole life's purpose is following the will of gods. You can't blame a man for following the only calling he's ever known. That would be selfish. Illogical."
Aiden took a small breath, tension hard in his jaw. He exhaled sharply through his nose. "...Right. Even at the cost of your life?"
"Even at that. No one is entitled to be everyone's first priority," Elliott said firmly. His words were resolute, but his eyes softened. He was trying to make Aiden understand—but he'd be lying if he said Aiden's fierce protectiveness didn't stir something inside him, a warmth blooming in his chest despite himself.
"Let him in," Elliott repeated. He could have simply commanded the guards himself, bypassed Aiden entirely, but he didn't want to override him. Not when all this fury was born from worry.
Aiden clenched his jaw but relented. He clearly wasn't thrilled about it. "Fine."
He stepped out, and after a moment returned, the High Priest in tow. The older man's face was pale, panic carved into every line of it. His usual composure was gone, replaced by guilt and unease. He bowed deeply, unable to hold Elliott's gaze.
"Your Majesty," he said, voice heavy with regret. "I... I am terribly sorry for what happened today."
Elliott waved it off. He wasn't angry with the priest. Not truly. He smiled faintly, accepting the apology.
"I am fine. It was something no one could have foreseen. Your actions were understandable. I hold no ill will toward you," he said kindly.
Relief softened the priest's face. A grateful smile curved his lips. He bowed his head once more. "I thank your Majesty for your generosity."
But he didn't linger on that. He had come with something heavier.
"I come not only to give my apologies. The saints have consulted the scriptures extensively. We debated the signs until there was no doubt left. It is neither ill omen, nor sabotage. While we suspected as much during the incident itself, we lacked the right explanation. After consulting the scriptures, however— considering the early onset of the eclipse, paired with the witnesses' accounts— we discovered another crucial detail. The halo above Your Majesty's head after which the flame grew wild, and the mirrors began to crack— it was eclipsed. Halved. Shadowed, one could say. This led us to a suspicion, which the scriptures have now confirmed. It was... the Moon."
Elliott, still propped against the cushions, arched a brow. His eyes widened slightly. "...The moon, you say?"
The priest nodded gravely and began to explain, words tumbling out with fervor.
"The Ascension is a solar festival. A celebration of the sun. The union of sun and moon is not inauspicious in itself—opposite, even, it can be considered harmonious. But not here. Not in this context. Within the sanctum, during the Ascension, the Sun God does not take kindly to intrusion. He does not share his ritual space or his sacred hour. It is why the rite must be completed before the onset of eclipse. No symbol of the moon may be present. Not a relic, not a whisper."
Elliott's sigh was soft. "So you're saying... the eclipse coming early was the reason?"
The priest shook his head immediately. "You misunderstand, Your Majesty. The eclipse was only a consequence. The ritual had already gone awry before the shadow of the moon touched the sky. For such an intense reaction... it had to be something greater. The Sun is known to be easily angered— but his anger is swift and momentary, never cruel or lasting. That is why the flame subsided the moment you left the sanctum. That is why the ceremonial water, though never offered, vanished. That is why it was accepted." His voice grew more intense. "Do you understand what this means, Your Majesty? The water was taken before it even touched the altar. This is a sign no scripture could deny. The Sun's favor upon you is undeniable."
The old man's eyes glistened, almost awed. "You are chosen, Your Majesty. If there is a soul in this age the Sun has touched, it is yours. To even suggest disfavor would be blasphemy."
Elliott blinked slowly. His lips parted, but no words came.
The High Priest drew a steadying breath before continuing, quieter now. "Which leaves only one explanation. Something else was present in the sanctum. Either a moon relic of extraordinary power—which is unlikely, for we scoured every corner—or..." He hesitated, as though the words themselves might curse him. "...Or a descendant of the Moon, in close proximity."
Aiden's fists clenched tightly at his sides. His voice cut sharp and angry. "The moon line is extinct."
The priest inclined his head gravely. "So it is believed. But the signs do not lie. And the last infant of the line— James Corvette— his body was never found..." He trailed off, not daring to say more, but the implication hung in the air like a blade.
Elliott exhaled slowly. What the priest was saying bordered on ridiculous, but it was also the only explanation that made even half a sense.
"You're suggesting... not only is James Corvette alive, but he is here. In our kingdom. In our capital. And present inside the ritual chamber itself?"
The High Priest bowed his head low. "It is the only explanation, Your Majesty."