18

"Isn't this the sixth time this week you're sneaking out?" Alcor asked, his voice tinged with weariness as he watched the young boy hastily change out of his everyday clothes. The boy swapped them for a gray tunic and some worn brown shorts, garments Alcor had handed down a few days prior.

"That's what I told her, but she really likes sneaking out. You think she might want to join our family?" The boy's innocent question was laced with genuine curiosity, as he tied his hair into a knot at the nape of his neck. Alcor blinked, his expression shifting to one of disbelief. He was silently grateful that Ignatius wasn't around to hear such a wild suggestion.

"What do you guys even do out there?" Alcor's voice carried a mix of concern and resignation as he flopped back onto his bed. "I hope you're not getting into trouble. Even the Rosfenice family won't be able to shield you if you catch the eye of someone from the royal family."

"Why would they be interested in us? We're just kids," the boy replied with a dismissive shake of his head, completely unaware of the wry smile playing on Alcor's lips.

"Can't you two hang out here like always? What's so special about sneaking outside? Isn't it slow and boring for kids like you two?"

The boy paused, thoughtfully chewing over the question before turning back to his father with a bright smile. "We just like walking around like normal people. I don't know why, but I really enjoy it."

Alcor studied his son's face, a subtle warmth in his eyes. After a moment, he chuckled, sitting up and reaching out to pat his son's shoulder. "Alright then. Enjoy it while you can. I'll make sure her old man doesn't get between you two."

"Thanks, Dad!" The boy beamed, racing out of the bedroom with a burst of energy. Alcor trailed behind, a content smile slowly curling into a troubled frown. He was already wondering how he would keep Ignatius from finding out.

The Rosfenice estate was bathed in a soft glow, where the moonlight's silvery touch mingled with the warm orange hues of the lanterns lining the hallways. The boy moved swiftly, yet carefully, evading the wandering eyes of the manor's maids with practiced ease. His bare feet barely made a sound as they brushed against the cool grass of the front yard, his path well-worn from countless similar escapades.

At the far corner of the courtyard, a familiar silhouette waited. The boy's pace quickened, his heart lifting as Seraphina came into view, but he soon slowed to a halt as another figure caught his attention from the edge of his vision. A young girl with dirty-blonde hair tied in a ponytail stood there, her cold crimson eyes fixed on Seraphina.

Seraphina greeted the girl with her usual bright smile, chatting away happily. But the blonde girl's response was a sigh, her arms crossing over her chest as she listened with a lack of interest that was almost palpable. She glanced sideways, her gaze locking onto the boy's, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze. A sharp, sudden headache made the boy flinch, and then the vision hit him.

The once-grand capital of the empire was now a desolate wasteland, life replaced by death and towering infernos where proud buildings had stood. At the center of the devastation lay the ruins of the castle, its only reminder the shattered crest of the Royal family leaning against crumbling walls.

"We failed," came the voice of a beautiful woman with an emotionless stare. Dried blood streaked her cheeks and clothes, a broken spear clutched in her one remaining hand. Blood flowed freely from the stump where her left arm had been, but she didn't flinch. She only gazed out at the ruins, her expression empty, as if the reality of their failure had hollowed her out.

"We did." A man, barely clinging to life, slumped against a crumbling pillar. His arms were severed, his body battered beyond recognition, yet he managed a sardonic smile.

The woman approached him slowly, her gaze unwavering as she looked down at him. Blood dripped from her lips as she bit them, holding back words of comfort that would never come. With a sigh, she crouched down, picking up the silver blade beside him. Light from the flames reflected off its surface as she brandished it.

"It suits you," the man whispered, offering his neck to her with a resigned smile. She closed her eyes, raising the sword high, and as the blade descended, she heard the faint, fading echo of an apology escape the man's lips before his head rolled away. The deed done, the woman collapsed to her knees, her hands trembling as she brought them close to her face.

The vision faded, replaced by the sight of the young blonde girl flicking a stray strand of hair away from her face, her expression one of cold indifference. She spoke, and whatever she said caused Seraphina's smile to falter into a frown. The boy couldn't make out the words—his ears were still ringing from the vision.

"That's enough, don't be childish," the blonde girl finally reprimanded, her tone sharp as she grabbed Seraphina by the wrist, making the girl yelp in pain. Instinct kicked in before the boy even realized it, and he found himself stepping between them, his hand gripping the blonde girl's wrist tightly. Both girls stared at him in shock.

"Who dares!?" the young girl hissed, her voice full of offended pride. Her crimson eyes bore into the boy, but he stood his ground, his grip on her wrist unyielding, as if daring her to challenge him.