The road back from the Church of Ra was quiet. Too quiet.
No birds. No wind. Just the steady sound of footsteps, two pairs, echoing faintly on cobblestone under a sky painted in gold.
Michael broke the silence first.
"That priest knew more than he said."
Nathan didn't answer right away. His jaw was tight, hands buried in the pockets of his long coat, brows drawn low in thought.
"The gods don't exist, you say? Of course they don't... Whoever becomes a Lord will decide that."
The words kept crawling through his mind, replaying like a whisper caught behind his ears.
"You think he was threatening us?" Michael asked, watching him sidelong.
"No," Nathan muttered. "Worse."
Michael raised an eyebrow. "Worse than a threat?"
"He was telling the truth."
They turned down a quieter path leading toward the eastern overlook, the tall walls of Daylight glinting in the far distance. Sunlight streamed unnaturally steady overhead, unwavering and eternal.
Michael gave a short sigh. "You've dealt with relics and cults... but now we've got old men talking like gods are just waiting for a host."
Nathan stopped walking.
Michael did too.
Nathan turned to face him. "You remember what he said about Ra and Aria?"
Michael nodded slowly. "They ruled together. Day and night. Balance."
"Exactly." Nathan's voice was more focused now, like a puzzle had started clicking into place. "Ra's relics are being hunted. But no one's said a word about Aria. Not even the Council."
Michael narrowed his eyes. "Because she's bound to Twilight."
Nathan nodded. "Which is why we're going there next."
Michael raised a brow. "Twilight City? You sure about that?"
"I grew up there," Nathan said. "I know how it breathes."
"You also know it's not as welcoming as Daylight."
Nathan smirked faintly. "Good. I've had enough smiling faces for one lifetime."
He turned again, walking forward with renewed energy.
Michael followed, hands in his coat. "So what's the plan? Find Aria's worshippers? Raid the libraries? Knock on some abandoned shrine doors?"
"Whatever it takes," Nathan said. "The relics aren't just sacred junk. If Ra and Aria were truly in balance… maybe the answer isn't in one god, but both."
"And what if the Ash Veil already knows that?"
Nathan's eyes darkened.
"Then we're late."
***
"…and that is the nature of Lunaris," Hatzia finished, his fingers trailing across the edge of the polished obsidian table. "Not a kingdom of peace. A kingdom of performance."
The chamber was silent for a moment.
Then his eyes slid across the table, slowly, deliberately, to the two empty chairs.
One beside Velia.
And the one he was still sitting in.
He tapped the armrest lightly. "So… these two," he said, with a slight smile. "Who do they belong to?"
Lord Alaric didn't look up. His voice was quiet. "The seat beside Velia belongs to our firstborn. Elijah. He serves as an Enforcer now."
Crimson's chair scraped softly against the stone floor as she sat back, arms folded.
"And the other?" Hatzia asked, gesturing to the one beneath him.
Alaric hesitated.
Then…
"That seat," Crimson cut in, her voice sharp, "belonged to our mother."
The words sliced through the room like ice.
Even Velia stopped swirling her wine.
Hatzia blinked once. "Ah."
He looked down at the seat for a moment, as if suddenly aware it carried more than dust and history.
But instead of apologizing, he exhaled thoughtfully. "Fitting then. That no one sits in it anymore."
Crimson's eyes snapped to him. "Excuse me?"
He didn't flinch. "A kingdom defined by its ghosts. And a family too proud to bury them."
Raphael's hand clenched around his chair.
Velia just smirked behind her glass. Watching.
Crimson stood slowly.
"You've said enough."
"I haven't," Hatzia replied, rising with her. "Because I haven't chosen yet."
"Chosen what?"
He looked straight at her.
"To accompany the detective."
Silence followed.
Crimson blinked. "You think I'm going to babysit your Council dog?"
"Not my dog," Hatzia said. "But he is heading toward the shadow half of the kingdom. And we'd rather not have him eaten alive."
"Then send someone else."
"I choose you."
Crimson stepped forward. "You don't choose me. No one chooses me."
Hatzia's voice didn't rise. "You want your seat back at this table? Then prove you're still Leywin."
"I don't need to prove anything to you."
She turned on her heel, boots striking like gunfire on the floor.
As she reached the grand doors, her voice echoed back—
"Keep your relics. Keep your detective. And keep your ghosts."
The door slammed shut behind her.
No one moved.
Velia stood slowly, drained her glass in one motion, then set it down with a casual grace.
"I suppose I'll go see if she breaks anything."
She didn't wait for permission.
The door clicked softly behind her as she followed.
Back in the room, Hatzia sat again and smiled.
***
Crimson stood at the corridor window overlooking the city of Aerenthal. The capital shimmered beneath the ever still sun, split down the middle like a fractured coin. On one side, marble roads and golden banners fluttered in Daylight's eternal warmth. On the other, Twilight coiled beneath clouds, violet, veined with smoke, its lamplights like scattered stars.
Her fingers tapped the window frame.
"I should've pushed through it…"
But she knew that was a lie.
Whatever Hatzia Apoty was, whoever he was, he wasn't just Council-affiliated. He wasn't just powerful. He was something else. Something outside the game. A reader playing the board, not a piece on it.
"Still brooding?"
Crimson turned slightly. Velia stood behind her, arms folded, expression unreadable.
Crimson smirked faintly. "Always."
Velia walked closer, her heels soft against the stone. "You wanted to rejoin the family. This is what it looks like now."
"Shut up," Crimson said, but it lacked venom.
Velia tilted her head. "You were always fire and fury, sister. But you're not the only spark in the room anymore."
"I don't care if he burns brighter," Crimson muttered. "I just want to know where he came from."
Velia's lips curved. "So do I."
She looked out the window beside her.
"The Council is shifting," she said. "And if Hatzia is Sir Failure's proxy… then we're playing a different game entirely."
Crimson didn't respond at first.
Then, softly. "Do you trust the Council?"
Velia gave a humorless chuckle. "No one trusts the Council. They obey it. Or they disappear."
Crimson's eyes lingered on the border of the city, where Daylight faded into deep violet.
"Then maybe it's time someone stopped obeying."
Velia looked at her sideways. "You planning a rebellion?"
"I'm planning to think," Crimson said. "Which around here might as well be treason."
Velia touched her shoulder briefly , a rare show of closeness between them, then turned and left without another word.
Crimson stayed at the window a moment longer, her reflection split between sun and shadow.
Then she whispered to herself…
"Let's see what secrets Twilight's still hiding."