The scream tore through the laughter around the hall.
Every conversation died. Every gaze turned toward the direction where the scream came from. Within a second, the great hall that once sparkled with laughter turned into whispers and silence.
The servants rushed toward the rooftop, hurriedly ascending the stairs, followed by the nobles.
"Upstairs! It came from the east wing!" someone shouted.
When they reached the upper corridor, a crowd had already formed a ring of nobles, guards, and servants pressing toward a single door.
The door was locked, so one of the knights stepped forward and cracked it open.
Just as the knight entered the room, his face turned pale. The other knights followed, and so did the others. What they saw inside was utterly shocking.
Sheets torn apart. Furniture overturned. The whole room was a mess chaos frozen in silence.
A girl was trembling and crying in one of the corners of the room, her pink gown half-torn. She curled into herself, clutching her knees close to her chest, trying to cover every inch of her body.
The moment she saw the people gathering near her, she started to cry even louder, clutching the fabric of her gown as if it could protect her from their eyes.
And on the bed, Alaric was sleeping, covered by the bedsheets.
Then came the voice that broke the silence.
"Wh—what happened here?" Valen demanded, his voice shaking through the room.
The girl sobbed. "H—he dragged me her—" Her words broke, her whole body trembling. "—he said he wanted to tal—but then—he—"
"That's a lie!" shouted one of the young nobles from below. "I saw him follow her!"
Murmurs started instantly.
"Thirteen cycles only, yet already… disgraceful."
Far from the crowd, a man and a woman rushed toward the girl, wrapping their arms around her. Both were sobbing while covering their daughter — they were one of the Veylords Valen had spoken to earlier.
The girl's father, Veylord Aurelian, turned toward Valen, his whole body trembling with rage.
"Is this your heir? Is this the future of Solmere?" he spat. "He has defiled my daughter under your very roof!"
Another whisper slithered through the crowd.
"He followed her."
Liora moved first.
Her voice was barely a whisper. "Alaric…"
She stepped forward through the sea of eyes. Her hands trembled as she reached the bedside. The boy did not stir.
"Alaric," she said again, louder this time.
Yet he didn't wake up.
"ALARIC!" Liora shouted. Her voice echoed through the hall like a blade cutting through the noise.
Suddenly, Alaric jolted up from his deep slumber.
He blinked, dazed, eyes adjusting to the light, then saw his mother's face — twisted with something he couldn't understand.
"Mother?" he murmured, still half-asleep. "Why are you—"
Then he saw them.
The crowd in the doorway.
The crying girl beside him.
His father's cold, furious eyes.
The color drained from his face. "Wait—no—what is this?"
The murmurs swelled again.
"She's crying!"
"He's pretending!"
"Disgraceful…"
He sat up, confused, covering himself with the blanket. "I don't— I followed her, I swear I—"
Liora stared at him, lips trembling, searching his eyes for something truth, innocence, anything that could make this nightmare untrue.
Before his mother could speak, Valen stepped forward. Each step echoed through the room like a hammer striking steel. He stopped beside the bed.
"You disgrace this house before half the kingdom," Valen said quietly, his voice low and deadly. "Before your betrothed's family. Before your mother."
Alaric opened his mouth, trembling. "Father, I—"
But before he could finish, Valen's hand shot forward, gripping his son's hair. He slammed Alaric's head against the wooden frame of the bed with a brutal thud.
"You have brought ruin upon the name of Solmere," Valen hissed, his voice shaking with fury. He slammed his son's head again, and again, and again. the sound echoing through the stunned silence of the hall.
Alaric's cry broke between gasps. "Fathe… pleas… listen…"
But Valen didn't stop. He slammed his head once more, then threw him down from the bed. The boy hit the floor hard, blood already streaking his forehead.
Valen's voice dropped lower, each word sharper than steel. "If you value your breath, hold your tongue until the council decides what to do with you."
Alaric tried to move, his limbs trembling. "Mother… tell them. Please… tell them I wouldn't—"
Liora's eyes were wet. She couldn't speak. She turned away, covering her mouth as tears slipped through her fingers.
Valen didn't look at him again. He grabbed Alaric by the hair, dragged him across the floor, and threw him toward the guards.
"Take him to the lower halls," Valen said, his voice breaking into anger. "At dawn he will face judgment. Let none speak his name until the sentence is done."
The guards hesitated for a moment just a moment — then obeyed. They took Alaric by the shoulders, dragging him toward the door.
Blood trailed behind him, a thick red line marking every step.
The murmurs faded behind him, replaced by a single, endless ringing in his ears.
As they pulled him away, Alaric's mind blurred. The world spun. The cries, the whispers, the shame all faded into a dull hum.
Deep inside his mind, something was breaking twisting something terrible he couldn't understand.
His mother's voice echoed faintly behind him, trembling and lost. His father's rage burned in his skull. The laughter that once filled the hall was gone, replaced by silence, guilt, and blood.
And in that silence, Alaric's world fell apart his mind was breaking slowly in his deep slumber.