Zarethian Empire
The gates of Zarethian parted like iron jaws as the royal entourage returned.
The air was heavy.
Four B-class hunters were dead.
The rest were injured—bloodied, broken, limping.
The S-class twins, Lilith and Luomon, rode silently, skin pale from mana exhaustion.
Even the indomitable Gabriel Vaelthorne de Ashywne—silver-blonde hair tousled, black cape torn at the shoulder—walked beside his horse. Not injured. But visibly shaken.
And that alone was enough to alarm the entire capital.
---
Inside the King's Private Office
Cassian Vaelcrest de Ashywne, the current King of Zarethian, stood behind his mahogany desk, golden rings clinking as he gripped the edge. His crimson cape fluttered faintly in the breeze from the stained-glass window.
Across from him sat Gabriel—slouched, unimpressed, a slash of dirt still trailing his cheekbone. A Duke. A monster. A storm in noble skin.
Gabriel: "You're thinking too much, Cassian,"
Gabriel said with a casual flick of the wrist. "Nothing happened. Look at me. Look at Lilith and Luomon."
Cassian slammed a report on the desk.
Cassian: "You might think it's nothing. But four B-class hunters are dead, Gabriel. Dead—under your command. Lilith's mana was burned out. Luomon collapsed mid-journey back. Don't act like this is routine."
Gabriel's eyes narrowed.
Gabriel: "You're freaking out, Cas. What happened is on the weak links. Not me."
Cassian: "You're on house arrest."
Gabriel: "What?"
Cassian: "Effective immediately. Your request to re-enter the forest has been denied."
Gabriel's fist clenched.
Gabriel: "Listen here, you piece of—"
Cassian: "I won't be listening to anything," the king cut in coolly. "Henry."
The door opened.
A man in sharp uniform and glasses stepped in with a quiet bow.
Cassian: "See Lord Gabriel outside. He's unwell. No council meetings, no investigations. He will return to his duchy."
Gabriel stood slowly. His voice dropped.
Gabriel: "In situations like this, you really know how to wield power."
Cassian: "The Harvest Festival is in a month. The capital is watching. The nobles are spooked. The people are whispering. We need stability, and you—of all people—need to be here."
Gabriel: "That's why you're grounding me like I'm ten?!"
Cassian: "You can't attend the Festival if you vanish into that cursed forest again. And foreign delegates will be arriving. I need you at my side, not chasing phantoms."
Gabriel: "You're not understanding, Cassian. I didn't inspect the cave."
Cassian: "You don't need to!"
A tense silence dropped like a blade between them.
Both men stared at each other—flames and frost—old bloodline power brimming behind their eyes.
Cassian finally exhaled and turned away, gazing out the window.
Cassian: "Henry. Escort him out. And make sure he reaches the duchy."
Gabriel scoffed.
Gabriel: "I'm not a child."
But he turned and walked out, black boots echoing like war drums.
Henry bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty."
As the door shut, Cassian remained frozen, eyes tracing the gray clouds swirling over the Empire.
Cassian: "Watch him. Watch all three—Gabriel. Lilith. Luomon."
Henry adjusted his glasses, voice quiet but sharp.
Henry: "Understood."
The storm was returning.
Not from the sea.
Not from the cave.
But from within the palace walls.
________
— In Front of the Palace Gates —
Gabriel felt a shadow linger behind him—an irritatingly familiar presence.
Gabriel's tone was sharp, "What are you doing here, Henry?"
Henry Scylla, the King's personal advisor and chief scholar. A man born from nothing, crawling his way into the noble faction. To Gabriel, he was more than a snake—he was the worst kind.
Henry's green eyes gleamed behind his glasses. "I'm just here to remind you of the King's warning."
Gabriel snorted, "Hah! I thought magic was forbidden inside the palace. How did you get here so fast, huh?"
His voice dropped to a cold murmur, the kind that always made Henry's jaw clench. Gabriel knew exactly what Henry was. And Henry knew, even with that knowledge, Gabriel couldn't touch him.
Henry smiled coolly. "I just hope you don't go against His Majesty's orders."
Gabriel's smirk twisted. "A snake like you doesn't deserve to warn me."
Henry's expression hardened, his eyes sharpening into slits. "I hope Master Gabriel doesn't speak such nonsense in public. I serve His Majesty. If a rumor were to circulate…it wouldn't be good."
Gabriel's laugh was humorless, "Hah! So be it then. You think I don't dare?"
The wind shifted. Warm midday suddenly dipped to a chill, causing even the gate guards to shiver despite the heat. Gabriel just scoffed, stepping into his carriage without a backward glance. Henry stood watching, fists clenched tight before letting out a slow breath, eyes narrowing as the carriage disappeared down the path.
---
The Empress's Garden —
Cassian's unease grew heavier, the burden forcing his decision. He ordered his personal guard, "Albert, inform the Empress I'll be joining them for lunch."
Moments later, Cassian entered the imperial gardens, the air thick with the perfume of roses and sweet summer breeze.
Seated elegantly among the flower beds was Empress Amanda Vaelcrest de Elaine, her emerald hair braided with baby's breath flowers. The Crown Prince, Leonard Vaelcrest de Ashywne—Cassian's little mirror—ran around with his dog, his laughter lighting up the courtyard.
Cassian greeted softly, "Amanda."
Her smile was a balm to his frayed nerves. Political marriage, yes. But love? It had taken root long ago.
The seven-year-old Crown Prince skidded to a stop, chest puffed out. "Good afternoon, Father."
Cassian patted his son's head, "Looks like you've been studying well."
Leo grinned from ear to ear.
Amanda gestured to the feast. "Please sit, my Lord. Lunch is ready."
Cassian pressed a kiss to her cheek, "Good afternoon, my lady."
They ate, chatted, but Amanda's sharp eyes caught the tension in her husband's face. Her slender fingers slid over his beneath the table.
Amanda whispered, "My Lord, what's weighing on your mind?"
Cassian chuckled. "Can't hide anything from you, can I?"
Amanda teased, "Why do you even try?"
His smile faded as his voice turned heavier. "The forest… Gabriel… the Harvest Festival coming… I just hope it all ends peacefully."
Amanda's tone stayed soothing, but her words cut like quiet blades. "The forest has been silent for five hundred years. It won't wake now. As for Lord Gabriel… he's a storm, Cassian."
Leo chimed in proudly, "Uncle Gabriel is so cool! He'll handle everything, I know it."
Cassian ruffled his son's hair. "That's the problem… he will."
Leo blinked, confused. Amanda's gentle grip tightened around Cassian's hand.
Amanda: "Everything will be alright, Cas. The ancestors will protect us."
Cassian forced a smile but when his gaze drifted toward the distant sky, his whisper carried something no one else caught.
"I'll hope for that… but I know better."
---
Vaelthorne Duchy —
If the palace was royalty, the Vaelthorne Duchy was unbridled power dressed in luxury.
Gabriel's carriage rolled up to the grand estate, the gates swinging open as butler Oscar and head maid Ayla bowed low, ten more servants lining the path.
"Welcome back, my Lord," they greeted in unison.
Gabriel stepped down, his cape fluttering behind him, crimson eyes gleaming under the golden rays.
"Prepare the bath," Gabriel ordered, and the household sprang into action.
"Ayla, I'll be dining in my room."
"Yes, my Lord," Ayla bowed.
The S-class twins remained in their quarters, still recovering.
Gabriel shrugged off his ruined cape, the torn edge catching his eye—reminders of that red silhouette flashing in his mind. His jaw tightened as he stripped off his shirt, ignoring the faint scratch on his shoulder reflecting in the mirror. Maids silently moved to assist him.
Steam curled around him as he sank into the lavish marble bathtub, strong arms resting along the edge, silver hair slicked back, crimson eyes closed—but his thoughts raged.
Back to the forest. Back to the red glow. Back to the thing that made his blood burn with a hunger he hadn't felt in years.
He rose, droplets trailing down his muscled torso, a navy-blue silk robe clinging to his lean frame. The scent of freshly prepared delicacies wafted through the air as Oscar arranged the plates in his private chamber.
Oscar's bow was crisp. "I'll be outside, my Lord."
Gabriel only nodded, sinking into the plush sofa. By the time he finished bathing, darkness had swallowed the estate. Moonlight pooled through the tall windows, casting silver highlights over his wet hair.
His gaze fixed on the moon.
"I'll burn you down," Gabriel murmured, crimson irises glinting with fire.