The laughter below rang bright and hollow, bouncing off marble columns like it belonged to another world. Auren Veyr stood alone on the high balcony of the Veyr estate's grand hall, hands resting on the stone railings, cold wind brushing his cloak.
The party was for his brother, The heir.
Below, nobles danced beneath glass chandeliers shaped like weeping willows. Music swirled like perfume, heavy and artificial. Gold shimmered on cuffs and collars, voices bloomed with staged affection. And there, in the center, stood Valtan Veyr—tall, charming, laughing as if the world itself had chosen him.
Auren watched without blinking.
The music didn't move him. The faces didn't touch him. He felt like glass among steel—present, but never counted.
"You always pick the same spot," said a voice behind him. Smoky, amused.
Auren didn't turn.
"Because it gives me the same view," he said.
The Wazir emerged from the shadows like he'd stepped out of a curtain only he could see. Robes stitched with symbols too old to be fashionable, a crooked staff, and a grin that knew too much.
"Still watching them," the Wazir murmured, leaning beside Auren. "Still wondering what they feel."
"Wondering implies? I care what they feel?," Auren said flatly. "I don't. I am just noticing how they lie about everything beneath their golden teeths."
"Same thing, if you're honest about it." The Wazir chuckled. "Curiosity's just quiet hunger."
Auren said nothing. He didn't need to. The Wazir filled silence like fog—soft, unsettling, impossible to hold.
Below, Valtan bowed dramatically, hand over heart. Applause erupted. The Marquis raised a goblet from the dais, pride etched into his silence.
"Your brother shines," the Wazir said mildly.
"He's meant to."
"Mm. And you? Were you made to follow his light, or to make him vanish in your shadow?"
Auren turned slightly, eyes narrow. "Why do you talk like that?"
The Wazir smiled, almost kindly. "Because the straightforward truth rarely leaves the right scar."
A cheer rose from the hall as Valtan toasted. Somewhere, a woman swooned too visibly. The crowd laughed.
"He fits them," Auren said. "I don't."
"You don't," the Wazir agreed. "You fit things that haven't happened yet."
Auren blinked.
"You're quieter than you were last time," the Wazir added softly.
"Last time?"
The Wazir's eyes gleamed. "I never said this was the beginning, either."
And then he turned and walked away, leaving Auren with the music, the cold, and a single echo—not a voice, not a sound, just a faint pull in his chest.
Like something had already changed.
Like someone, somewhere, had started to feel something because of him.