Several days later, midday came heavy with unbearable heat. The scorching sun drained all life from the lands of the Siren clan.
The Sirens had always been a people bound to the cold. Across every layer of their society, from commoner to noble, their name had been synonymous with frost. Their emblems and banners bore snowflakes, their tales and legends spoke of ice and blizzards.
But today was unlike any other. The heat smothered everything. The common folk hid away in their homes, while the nobles and the pure-blooded families dwelled in cooled palaces, indifferent to what burned outside.
At the palace gates, one weary guard was on the brink of collapse. His eyelids drooped, his body swayed, ready to give in. Then he jolted upright—something in the distance caught his eye.
A lone figure trudged across the open grounds toward the palace.
What kind of madman would walk under such a blazing sun?
The guard tried to guess at his identity. Perhaps some desperate commoner had come to plead his case before the ruling family. It wasn't impossible—among the Akimu people, when a court failed to deliver judgment, the case could be escalated to the clan's higher authorities. The ruling family, without question, was one of them.
And yet… that seemed unlikely. The man was alone, unescorted, staggering forward without reception or ceremony.
Step by step, he drew closer. Now only a few dozen paces separated him from the gates.
The guard exchanged a confused glance with his companion across the entryway. Then, as the man's figure grew clearer, their blood ran cold.
The stranger was wounded, his gait unsteady, his right hand clutching his bloodied left shoulder.
And when his face at last came into view, the guards nearly collapsed in shock.
It was Iris—the Supreme Commander of the Union's armies. He had returned from his mission… gravely wounded.
For a moment, disbelief rooted them in place. Then discipline took over. They saluted at once and rushed to his side, supporting his battered frame into the palace.
Iris was laid upon a bed in the royal infirmary. Physicians swarmed around him like bees, some tending to his shattered bones, others binding deep wounds that still wept blood. His vital organs, miraculously, were unharmed—but the rest of his body was broken and bruised beyond recognition.
Amidst the commotion, Iris grasped one physician's hand. His grip was feeble, yet urgent enough to command attention.
In a hoarse whisper, he spoke:
"Alexa… summon Alexa at once."
The physician hesitated. He thought the commander merely longed to see his wife. Besides, Lady Alexa was presiding over a judicial matter in the throne hall—it was impossible to interrupt her.
But Iris's eyes blazed despite his pain.
"Did you not hear me, damn you?"
The physician sighed. "My lord, Lady Alexa is in the throne hall. Please, you must rest if we are to heal—"
"Enough!" Iris roared, voice cracking with fury. "This matter outweighs her throne. It outweighs me! Bring her. Now."
There was no refusing him. Authority itself seemed to flow through his broken body.
The physician rushed out, barking to a nearby soldier:
"You there! Fetch the High Lady at once. I care not if she resists—it is Iris's command!"
The soldier sprinted off immediately. Time was slipping through their fingers.
---
The soldier stormed into the throne hall, shoving the massive doors open. His boots thundered against the marble as he leapt inside.
All heads turned—courtiers, guards, ministers, and Alexa herself, seated high upon the golden throne.
The soldier's presence radiated urgency, enough that the crowd instinctively parted for him. Yet as he neared the dais, he faltered. He realized what he had done—he had intruded upon the throne hall in the most reckless manner imaginable.
The vast chamber glowed white, its walls and towering pillars gilded with carvings of rulers past—heroes whose very names sent shivers down the spine. At the hall's summit, the throne itself gleamed, wrought from polished gold and draped in deep azure silk.
And upon it sat Lady Alexa.
Her eyes, sharp as blades, fixed on him—equal parts confusion and anger. Whatever business had dragged this soldier here, she was not pleased to be interrupted.
Royal guards lowered their spears, barring his path. But Alexa lifted her hand.
"Wait. Let him speak."
The guards froze, withdrawing in disciplined unison.
The soldier ascended the steps, fell to his knees before her, and bowed his head low.
"My Lady… Commander Iris has returned from his mission."
Alexa's eyes widened. Iris—gone for so long, leaving an emptiness in her heart and in Ethios's life—had returned?
The soldier continued, voice trembling.
"He is gravely wounded. His organs remain intact, but the rest of him is shattered. He asks for you. I heard him say… that this matter outweighs your throne, outweighs even himself."
Alexa's thoughts spun. What could matter more than Iris's own life?
She turned swiftly to her sister, Ilara. "You will hold court in my stead."
Then she swept from the hall without another word.
---
When Alexa entered the infirmary, the physicians slipped out, leaving her and Iris in silence.
She sat beside him, gently taking his hand, her gaze tracing the bandages that wrapped nearly every inch of his body.
She opened her mouth to speak, but Iris was faster.
"Alexa… it eases me to see you alive."
She smiled faintly, though sorrow touched her voice.
"I wish I could say the same of you. Still… I'm glad you're here. Alive—barely, perhaps, but alive."
Iris's face hardened. Formalities had no place now.
"Alexa. They know about him."
Her brow furrowed. "Know about who?"
He turned away, voice heavy.
"The Alliance… they know about Ethios."
Her heart froze. The words rattled in her skull, too heavy to comprehend. Iris did not speak in delirium—he was too strong for that. If he said it, then it was truth.
But such truth meant ruin. It meant war.
"No…" she whispered, shaking her head. She released his hand and rose, pacing to the window, voice trembling with denial.
"That's impossible. No one knows about Ethios. Only the Siren elite. Not even our closest allies in the Union know of him. How could the Alliance…?"
Her eyes darted back to Iris, wide with terror.
"Tell me you jest. For the love of the gods, Iris, tell me you jest."
But before he could answer, the earth itself began to roar.
The palace shook violently, its chandeliers swaying, its beds sliding across the infirmary floor. All across the Siren continent, the ground heaved in a massive quake.
Alexa fell hard, then crawled back to Iris, clutching him tightly to steady his broken frame.
At last, the quake subsided. Dust choked the air, debris littered the floor. The infirmary lay in shambles, and surely the rest of the palace—perhaps the entire continent—fared no better.
Alexa's chest heaved. She forced a nervous smile toward Iris.
"Perhaps… it's over now."
But her words were drowned out by a thunderous explosion.
The palace walls cracked, stones and splinters raining down as a deafening blast tore through the corridors.
Alexa was thrown to the floor once more, ears ringing, vision blurred. She dimly heard Iris calling to her, asking if she lived.
Her senses slowly returned. She staggered upright, only to realize, with dawning horror, where the explosion had struck.
The royal wing.
Where Ethios lay.
Her blood ran cold. A shriek tore from her throat, echoing through the ruined palace.
"ETHIOS!!!"