Nytherael woke up sweating buckets. His crown was wet with his hair sticking to his face, and the fluffy pillow under his head made of pure silk was damp, too.

He sat up on the bed. Fingers curled tightly on the silk quilt. His chest felt stuffed, and his insides in complicated knots.

He did not startle awake in the middle of the night from a nightmare, but rather from a strangeness in his bond with his mates.

His connection with Aeltharion felt like a dance between fire and ice laced with poison. It was suffocating to feel, and from his link with Sseraphis, he felt a chilling loneliness that shredded his insides.

He got out of bed. His feeling a mixture of needing to puke his guts out and wishing to binge eat.

Nytherael stepped into the bathing room and washed his face with ice-cold water. Using his wet hands, he combed through his silver hair.

A cool breeze hit his damp face, sending goosebumps down his spine. He wiped his face with the sleeves of his sleeping tunic.

It was the first time he’d ever gotten such strong gut-wrenching emotions from their tri-bond. His golden and crimson eyes were moist from the water and lingering aftermath of experiencing Sseraphis’ emotions.

He returned to the room and walked over to the window. He pushed the panes open to allow fresh air to enter the room.

"What is going on? Why are you both so troubled tonight?"

He raised his head quizzically and stared at the three moons in the night sky through the window.

The three moons co-existing in one sky reminded him of his tri-soul marriage. Three unlikely beastfolk brought together by fate; a dragon, a snake, and a fox. Their union was rare, and it had taken the world by a storm.

The night that they married and united their bond by accepting each other, two moon’s appeared miraculously in the sky as though to represent their union.

Until date, no beastfolk has been able to explain what force brought about the formation of the other two moons and how three moons ruled the same night sky without conflict or causing misfortune or mishaps in the world.

Instead, the beastfolk turned their presence into worship. Deeming it as auspicious. The flying ships floating through the clouds stood so close to the moons that it felt like he could touch them if he reached out his hand. But he didn’t dare to.

Knowing his nature to ruin everything he touches. He denied his curiosity lest he causes another mistake that harms beastfolk and adds to his guilt.

"Wallowing doesn’t look good on your handsome, arrogant face, Nythe," a voice came from behind.

Startled, Nytherael turned around to find his door wide open and outside, Rhysandor stood. He had been too lost in thought to hear the door open or Rhysandor approach.

Brightening at the friendly face. He fixed his tunic tightly and closed the window.

"Not asleep?"

"How could I? We haven’t talked properly since your return."

"I figured you stood with your wife, my sister, and would wish to have nothing to do with me."

Rhysandor sneered. Seeing Nytherael hadn’t lost his sarcasm was oddly comforting. Too much had changed that he was grateful something had remained the same.

"I come bearing snacks," he waved the baskets in hand for Nytherael to see. "All your favourites. I figured after the days you’ve had, you need something sweet to wash out the sour taste of life."

Nytherael pointed at the table. However, Rhysandor ignored his suggestion and walked over to the bed abs plopped down like he owned it.

He felt right at home instantly as the bed was covered with Nytherael’s scent, a smell that he had missed for so long.

"I need to know everything of your travels. Where you’d gone, what was so interesting there that it kept you away from home for so long, and how come you’d never heard news of the occurrences in Lumse dynasty while you were there?"

Nytherael pressed his lips tight. The stories Rhysandor came hunting for could be summed up in one sentence. ’He had been frozen beneath lake Qihera.’

There was no grand adventure. No interesting tales to fill the empty pages of the last year and a half that he’d spent frozen while the rest of the world kept moving and the reason he hadn’t heard of the ongoings of the dynasty was because he couldn’t not because he didn’t care.

A result of his stupid miscalculation on how Ilyrien would react to the terrible news of his failed divorce.

"Dont hold out on me now, friend. I deserve thar much after being abandoned without a word."

"I never abandoned you."

"It felt like that when you made all those choices without once consulting me and then disappearing after making a mess of things," he said, not exactly accusing him, but simply expressing his hurt at Nytherael’s actions. "I thought I was your closest friend. Someone who knew you best, but clearly I did not."

"Rhys."

"Let’s fix that," he patted the open spot on the bed. "Join me, and let’s chat. Start from the beginning, Ilyrien’s return... why you’d trade your beautiful marriage for him? Why did you decide to leave when you failed and allowed the mess to escalate instead of staying and fixing things while they were still within means for you to do so?"

Nytherael sat down. Heavily contemplating Rhysandor’s questions. The answer he came up with sounded like excuses by a scared boy.

"I don’t know what to say that could justify what I did."

"I am your friend, Nytherael. You don’t need to justify anything to me... just tell me what happened."

Those words opened the tap for waterworks in Nytherael’s eyes. Since his return, no one had tried to simply hear him out without judgement.

Everyone had grievances to express. Demands and expectations to lay on his shoulders. They prioritised showing him all that he had broken and telling him to fix it, not once asking where he’d been, how he was feeling, and to simply tell his side of the story.

Yes, it was selfish of him to desire someone to understand him after hurting the beastfolk around him. But his heart longed for a comforting place to lay his head as much as any other beastfolk out there.

"And if it’s hard starting from the beginning, then just tell me what you feel comfortable sharing. I’ll listen," Rhysandor said, opening the first basket to reveal roasted, golden chicken meat.

His mouth watered at the chicken pieces sizzling with fat and essence their beast bodies needed. Its sweet aroma quickly filled the room.

"Have the thigh," He handed the sweetest part to Nytherael without a second thought.

Despite having no appetite for food or essence, Nytherael accepted the piece of chicken meat. The gut-wrenching lingering emotions from his bond with his mates made his mouth sour. The thought of food brought the puking feeling close to the surface.

However, to avoid offending the one person willing to listen to him and sit with him as a friend instead of hating on him like the rest of the world did, he tore pieces of the meat and shoved them in his mouth.

"I didn’t go anywhere after the beast court trial. Ilyrien was enraged that I broke my promise to marry him. He trapped me in lake Qihera and frozen the lake over with a secret technique," he admitted, honestly.