Moonlight spilled across the marbled terrace of Virelia's palace, casting an ethereal gleam upon the silver-rimmed goblets in the brothers' hands. The night in Virelia was always colder, always quieter than anywhere else—almost as though the land itself listened when its king spoke.
Lucian stood by the arched balustrade, his gaze fixed on the dark horizon, though it was clear his mind was elsewhere.
"You had your eyes on one girl, though, brother," Soren said, leaning back lazily against a carved pillar, swirling the red liquid in his glass with idle grace.
Lucian didn't respond at once. He tilted his goblet, sipped, and let the silence speak.
Soren raised a brow and went on, his voice laced with amusement. "Prey? A means of sexual pleasure?"
A pause. The wind stirred Lucian's long hair, brushing it against the edges of his sharp jaw.
"I was just a bit curious. It was only for a moment," Lucian replied, the words smooth, almost careless, but Soren knew better.
"I see…" Soren echoed thoughtfully. "Curiosity."
He took a slow drink, watching his brother from the corner of his eye. The light of the sconces caught in Lucian's eyes—a glint of something unreadable.
Lucian's lips curved, not into a smile, but into something darker. "Vivienne," he murmured.
Soren's gaze narrowed.
"You learned her name?"
Lucian nodded once. "Her mother called for her when dragging her away… loud, insufferable woman."
Soren chuckled. "You remember her name. Interesting."
Lucian turned, walking slowly back into the dimly lit hall, the long tails of his midnight coat brushing the cold floor. Soren followed, the soft clink of their boots echoing through the chamber.
Soren was quiet for a moment. Then, he said, "So, what will you do?"
Lucian looked up toward the great stained-glass window that loomed over the far end of the room. A crimson halo from the glass painted his face, deepening the shadows beneath his eyes.
"Nothing," Lucian answered. "Curiosity is not reason enough for action."
Soren smirked, draining his glass. "Right ."
Just then, footsteps echoed from down the corridor, and a tall servant dressed in deep garnet appeared at the archway. He bowed low.
"My lord, she's here. The Seer requests audience."
Lucian's eyes flickered, suddenly colder.
"Bring her in," he said, his tone like steel wrapped in velvet.
Soren tilted his head. "Another vision?"
Lucian didn't reply.
The Seer entered moments later—hooded, her face veiled in silver mesh, her hands painted with inked runes that shimmered faintly in the firelight. She did not bow. She simply stepped into the silence like she belonged there.
She held no scroll, no book. Only her voice.
"Your time is folding," she said. "The old path awakens."
Lucian raised a brow slightly. "Speak plainly."
The Seer tilted her head slowly, her voice like smoke. "Two threads have been loosed… one will bind you, the other will burn you."
Lucian stared at her, unflinching.
Soren looked between them, clearly entertained. "How poetic. Do you charge extra for riddles?"
The Seer turned to Soren, and just for a second, her voice dropped into a chill neither of them were used to.
"You laugh now, Prince… But when the shadow opens its mouth, you will be the first to kneel."
Soren's smirk faltered—just briefly.
Lucian narrowed his eyes. "Enough," he said. "Leave us."
The Seer bowed once, the silver veil catching the dim firelight, and vanished through the dark corridor as silently as she came.
Soren exhaled. "Well. That was… unpleasant."
Lucian didn't respond. He stared into the shadows.
And somewhere, beneath the marble floors and ancient halls of Virelia, something stirred.