The ball was in one week.
Cael refused to go.
No matter how much the twins argued, pleaded, shouted.
They threw pillows. Books. Even Eryx threw a glass at the wall once. It shattered like ice, and Cael didn't even flinch.
"You're being unreasonable," Eryx growled.
Cael simply turned his back. "I said no."
Viel's voice came softer. "We'll get lost without you."
"You'll survive," Cael said quietly, without looking at them.
They didn't understand.
They thought he just hated crowded places, loud music, flashing jewels and fake smiles.
But it wasn't that.
Cael knew if he stepped foot in that palace, he'd be seen.
And the wrong person would know he was still alive.
So he stayed firm.
He didn't know how long it lasted.
Maybe two days.
Maybe three.
Until everything changed.
⸻
It started with Viel.
At first, Cael thought he was pretending.
The twins were dramatic, especially when they didn't get their way.
Viel curled up in bed with flushed cheeks and a quiet cough, refusing to eat.
Then the fever started.
High. Burning. His skin turned pale, lips dry. He stopped speaking—just whimpered if Cael moved too far away.
Still, Cael didn't panic. Not yet.
He just stroked Viel's damp hair and whispered, "You're going to be okay. I'm here."
⸻
But then Eryx fell sick too.
It happened fast. Too fast.
One moment he was standing at the door, yelling at the guards to leave them alone.
The next, he collapsed in the hallway—his skin ice-cold, body shaking.
They were both burning, both pale.
Both aching.
Cael tried to call the physician. He tried to give medicine.
But nothing helped.
No one knew what was wrong.
"They've always been like this," the steward said, face pale. "When they were children... the same fevers came. No one could explain it."
"And no one took care of them?"
"They wouldn't let us. They attacked anyone who came near."
Cael looked back at the room.
The door was slightly open. Inside, two of the most feared beings in the empire—
Were crying.
Whimpering.
Calling for him in weak voices.
⸻
"They're connected," the physician said. "Pain, emotion... perhaps even thoughts."
"They share everything."
Cael stood still.
He didn't speak.
Because something in his heart cracked open.
And guilt began to flood in.
⸻
He returned to the room.
Viel immediately reached for him, trembling fingers catching his sleeve like a drowning child.
"Don't go," he whispered.
Cael's voice shook. "I'm not."
Eryx was curled up on the other side, eyes red from fever, sweat soaking through his shirt.
"If you leave," he mumbled, "we'll die."
"Stop saying that."
"Don't go to the ball... but don't let us go without you either..."
Cael didn't answer.
Because he didn't know what to say.
⸻
By the second night, their condition worsened.
Their breathing grew shallow.
They couldn't keep food down.
And then, just before dawn—
Viel's eyes went blank.
"I can't see..." he said softly.
Cael froze.
Eryx started coughing violently.
Blood.
It stained the sheets.
Cael just stood there, staring, the bowl in his hands slipping and crashing to the floor.
⸻
He didn't speak.
He didn't cry.
He just moved toward the bed, dropped to his knees, and held them both.
Their skin was fire. Their bodies trembling.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
Over and over.
"I didn't know it was this bad."
"I didn't know you were hurting like this."
"I didn't know..."
⸻
The curse.
That word had always been whispered.
But now he could feel it.
It was real.
And it was killing them.
Slowly.
Quietly.
Because the world never cared enough to stop it.
And now, maybe...
Only he could.
On the morning of the fifth day, the fever was gone.
Just like that.
No burning skin. No weak breathing. No trembling hands.
It vanished as suddenly as it came—like it had never existed at all.
Cael couldn't believe it.
He checked their temperature three times.
Held their hands. Pressed his ear to their chests just to hear them breathe.
Still alive.
Still here.
⸻
Viel was the first to open his eyes fully, blinking softly against the sunlight. He blinked again and turned his head to find Cael sitting beside the bed with a bowl of soup in his hands.
"I can see you," he said quietly.
Cael's breath hitched.
"Good," he said, trying to smile. "Because you look like you haven't bathed in a week."
Viel huffed.
Cael laughed.
⸻
Eryx stirred next.
He reached for Cael's hand without a word, eyes still heavy, body weak.
But when Cael brought the spoon to his lips, he ate without complaint.
He even whispered, "Tastes like real food again."
Cael didn't say anything.
His throat was tight.
He just kept feeding them, spoon by spoon, wiping their mouths gently, brushing their hair away from their flushed cheeks.
Soft movements.
Gentle words.
Like he was trying to erase every moment of their suffering with his hands alone.
⸻
No one else came in.
The staff knew now—only Cael was allowed.
Only Cael was trusted enough to sit beside their bed and hear them cry without shame.
To feed them. To hold them.
To stay.
⸻
"I thought we were going to die," Viel murmured.
Eryx didn't speak, just looked up at Cael.
Cael looked away.
"There are only two days left," he said quietly. "Until the ball."
Neither of them responded.
So Cael gave them a small smile and reached for the damp towel.
"Then we better get you both cleaned up."
He didn't say the rest out loud:
Because if you're strong enough to stand—
Then I'll go with you.
Even if it means walking into the fire myself.