[Village of Sah’Rumeh — After Dawn]

The night had grown colder; even Vaelthor’s moon slowly began fading behind dark clouds drifting above the wolf lands and sunrays.

Levin still stood beneath the watchtower long after Kael disappeared into the darkness, frozen and breathing unevenly. Hands trembling faintly beneath the heavy fur cloak.

Because now hope had returned, and somehow it terrified him more than grief. Beside him, Iru remained silent because even he did not know what to say anymore.

What if the silver-haired stranger truly were the Malik? What if he survived? And worst of all, what if it was not him at all?

The thought alone felt unbearable, and then quietly, almost like someone speaking to himself, Levin whispered, his fingers slowly tightening over his stomach.

"...if it truly is him...then why has he not come for us?"

Silence answered him instead. Only the cold desert winds were moving softly through the village.

"Let’s get inside Malika..." Iru said.

Levin nodded, and as he went inside, he thought deeply, and his eyes shifted faintly. Something dark and desperate moving across them.

"...we need to find whoever that silver-haired man is."

Immediately Iru’s heartbeat quickened because he already knew Malika was beginning to think dangerously again.

"But how, Malika...?"

Levin remained silent for several moments afterward, thinking and breathing unevenly. Then suddenly his fingers twitched faintly.

"...the beast."

Immediately, Iru stiffened completely. Levin’s exhausted eyes slowly lifted toward the desert horizon.

"If I fight the beast."

"Malika."

Immediately, Iru kneeled before him desperately. The lantern light trembled softly across his worried face. Levin looked down at him quietly, and Iru continued quickly afterward:

"Before thinking of such madness..." His voice lowered painfully. "...I beg the Malika to remember that you are still carrying an egg."

Silence spread instantly afterward, and for one horrifying second Levin truly looked like he had forgotten because the moment hope of Zeramet returned, everything else vanished from his mind.

Iru continued softly as the words sounded terrifyingly close now, too close.

"You only have twenty-five nights remaining before delivery, and we possess no proper healer, and Malik is not beside you to guide the laying."

The winds moved softly through the watchtower afterward.

"So please..." Iru lowered his head deeper. "...do not risk the life of the next prince or princess of Zahryssar."

Levin stood completely silent afterward, blue eyes hollow beneath the moonlight because deep inside he knew Iru was right.

But then—what was he supposed to do? Wait? Hide? Pray?

Slowly his shoulders weakened faintly and quietly—almost helplessly—he whispered, "...then what am I supposed to do?"

No one answered because no one truly knew, and beside him, Asha slowly sat beside Levin’s legs, and Lyresaph climbed quietly into his lap afterward.

Not playful, not demanding affection, simply staying close. As though both creatures silently understood, their human was breaking apart again.

Then softly Iru spoke once more as his voice trembled faintly. "For now...Please take care of yourself, Malika."

The lantern flickered weakly between them.

"I believe Lord Urzan will not keep us in darkness forever."

And immediately Levin’s eyes became hollow again and painfully empty, and then a bitter smile appeared faintly across his lips.

"...perhaps...I must have sinned greatly to be abandoned like this."

Iru’s eyes widened instantly. "Malika, please do not say such thi—"

But suddenly a tiny voice interrupted him.

"...are you the new member staying in our village?"

Everyone turned immediately, and there peeking shyly through the hut entrance stood several wolf-clan children. Small amber eyes blinked curiously toward Levin, then toward Asha and then toward Lyresaph.

Silence.

And suddenly their expressions exploded with excitement.

"WOWWWWW—!"

The children rushed inside immediately afterward. Tiny footsteps pattered loudly across the wooden floor, and within seconds they completely surrounded Asha and Lyresaph like buzzing little bees.

"I TOLD YOU THERE WAS A BEAST INSIDE—!"

"The silver one is so tiny!"

"Can it bite?!"

"THE TIGER IS LIKE UNCLE KAEL—!"

Asha blinked in visible confusion. While Lyresaph puffed himself proudly afterward like royalty receiving admiration And unexpectedly Levin smiled.

Very faintly and very briefly but genuinely. The children immediately noticed, and one tiny girl boldly pointed toward him.

"He smiled!"

Immediately another child gasped dramatically.

"HE LOOKS LESS SAD WHEN HE SMILES!"

Levin visibly froze afterward, almost startled by the innocent honesty. Then suddenly another voice echoed gently from the doorway.

"You all...I told you, you’re not allowed to come here." Grandmother Hira slowly stepped inside afterward.

"My apologies for the intrusion." Warm eyes filled with embarrassment as she bowed respectfully. "The children became curious after hearing strangers had arrived within the village; they did not mean to disturb the Malika."

Levin quietly looked toward the children again, watching them excitedly pet Asha while Lyresaph proudly climbed atop one boy’s head like a crown.

And softly he answered:

"...it is alright." Grandmother Hira blinked faintly. "I do not mind. They may come whenever they wish..."

Levin’s fingers gently brushed across Lyresaph’s silver scales.

"...and play with Asha and Lyresaph."

Immediately the children beamed with excitement.

"REALLY?!"

"THE DRAGON LIKES ME MORE!"

"NO HE DOESN’T—!"

Grandmother Hira smiled warmly afterward. Then gently she asked, "Would the Malika like to join us for breakfast?"

Levin remained silent briefly, then quietly he answered, "...call me Levin."

The old woman’s smile softened immediately. "Yes...Levin."

Then kindly she extended one hand toward the doorway. "Shall we have breakfast?"

Levin slowly nodded afterward, and carefully, with Iru’s help, he stood once more, but even while following the villagers outside—even while hearing children laugh around him—even while smiling faintly at their innocence—the pain inside his eyes never truly disappeared.

Because somewhere beneath all that warmth, his soul was still searching desperately for one warmth alone.

***

[Silthara Palace—Throne Hall—Morning—Zahryssar]

The throne hall of Zahryssar no longer felt royal. It felt dangerous, like a palace waiting to devour its own people.

And upon the imperial throne of Zahryssar Slyvarakh sat, leaning lazily against one armrest, but despite the relaxed posture, the atmosphere around him felt monstrous.

Because beneath the throne three Red Knights remained kneeling with blood running down their faces already. Punishment for failing to retrieve the Malika.

The newest messenger knight trembled violently while lowering his head toward the floor; his voice shook uncontrollably.

"M-Malik...the Malika has crossed beyond the outer borders."

Silence, a deep dead silence. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

Then slowly Slyvarakh tilted his head, silver eyes narrowing dangerously. "...what?"

The knight swallowed hard, his entire body shaking now. "Our scouts tracked the trail only until the western divide, Malik...afterward the tracks separated toward multiple border routes."

Slyvarakh’s fingers slowly tightened around the wine cup resting beside him.

"We...do not know which side of the border the Malika escaped toward."

Silence.

Slyvarakh rose from his throne, stepped forward, and every step felt dangerous and then he stood infornt of that knight staring at him deep and dark, and then suddenly—

SLAPPPPPPPP!!!

The entire throne hall echoed violently. The knight was thrown sideways across the marble floor immediately, blood splattering from his mouth.

Slyvarakh stared deeply at the fallen knight and the terrifying part? He was smiling.

A smile so calm it looked worse than fury itself as his voice lowered dangerously softly. "You lost...my consort?"

The knight immediately collapsed fully against the floor. "M-Malik, please forgive—"

"DISAPPEAR BEFORE I SLICE YOUR HEAD FROM YOUR BODY."

The roar exploded violently through the throne hall.

BOOOOOOOOMMMMMM!!!

The knight scrambled away desperately afterward. Almost crawling while bleeding across the marble floor, the moment he vanished, the entire hall remained frozen in fear.

And behind the throne, Sarash quietly lowered his gaze, but despite the silence, a faint smile rested across his lips, small, soft, and almost invisible.

Because for the very first time someone had escaped Slyvarakh’s grasp. Then suddenly another knight hurried into the throne hall, immediately kneeling.

"Malik—!"

Slyvarakh closed his eyes briefly, visible irritation darkening his expression. "...what now?"

The knight trembled instantly beneath the silver-eyed stare. "Lady Arinaya of House Karzath seeks audience with the Malik."

Immediately something dangerous flickered across Slyvarakh’s eyes. "...send her in."

The throne hall doors slowly opened afterward, and Lady Arinaya entered gracefully beneath the heavy torchlight, her robes trailing behind her elegantly and cold eyes calm as ever.

Immediately she lowered herself into a respectful bow or was just forced to follow the tradition. "I Arinaya Karzath from House Karzath, greet the Malik."

Slyvarakh stared at her silently for several moments, long enough to make even nearby nobles uncomfortable. Then finally he spoke. "Raise your head."

Arinaya obeyed calmly afterward, and slowly Slyvarakh returned toward the throne again, sitting lazily against it afterward, leg on leg and one hand supporting his jaw.

Then quietly and dangerously he asked as his silver eyes fixed upon her. "I heard...you were the Malika’s closest ally within Silthara Palace."

The throne hall instantly became heavier afterward because everyone could hear it, the suspicion.

But Arinaya remained perfectly composed. "The Malika trusted very few people; I just happened to be one of them."

Slyvarakh’s lips curved slightly afterward, not kindly, never kindly. "How touching."

Then suddenly his silver eyes darkened as his voice lowered dangerously. "And tell me, Lady Arinaya...should I believe the Malika escaped entirely on his own?"

Silence.

Meanwhile, Sarash slowly lifted his gaze toward Arinaya afterward, watching carefully because one wrong answer tonight could cost her head. But unexpectedly, Arinaya smiled faintly and coldly.

"That depends."

Slyvarakh’s fingers tapped once against the throne armrest. "...on what?"

Arinaya’s eyes sharpened beautifully afterward. "On whether the Malik seeks truth...or simply someone convenient to punish."

The entire throne hall froze instantly, and Slyvarakh slowly leaned forward upon the throne afterward. Silver eyes narrowing dangerously now, interested, amused, and predatory.

And quietly, almost like a serpent preparing to strike, he murmured, "...careful, Lady Arinaya."

But Arinaya did not bow again, did not flinch, and did not look away because, unlike the others inside the throne hall, she no longer feared the throne of Zahryssar.

Around them, nobles remained frozen in silence. No one dared to breathe too loudly because everyone understood one wrong word tonight could spill blood inside the throne hall itself.

And while the serpent empire drowned beneath paranoia and obsession far away beyond the borders of Zahryssar, another land breathed beneath a different sky entirely.

***

[Wolf Lands — Western Territory of the Qashmari Empire — Same Time]

The winds there sounded different—not like desert storms, not like serpent halls whispering politics, but wild, cold, and ancient. Massive wolf banners hung from black cedar pillars.

Fires burned warmly inside carved stone halls, and outside the towering fortress, wolves howled beneath the skies.

Deep within one of the chambers a silver-haired man slowly opened his eyes.

Zeramet.

His golden eyes looked blurred, unfocused, and weak. Bandages wrapped heavily across his chest and neck.

The faint claw marks and wounds still covered his body beneath the blankets. The luxurious chamber around him remained unfamiliar, and somehow his instincts knew that immediately.

Then faintly his lips moved, dry, weak, and barely conscious.

"...Consort..."

The word escaped him like instinct itself, like breathing and like memory refusing to die. And standing quietly beside the chamber, a wolf-clan attendant immediately stiffened. Because this was the first time the stranger had spoken since arriving half-dead from the canyon cliffs.

Zeramet’s blurred golden eyes slowly shifted weakly toward the ceiling.

And softly, almost like someone still trapped between dream and reality, he whispered again. "...he must...be waiting..."

Then suddenly his eyes closed once more, and the unconsciousness dragged him back under immediately. The attendant blinked quickly afterward, still visibly startled, and then immediately he hurried outside the chamber.

Heavy wolf-clan doors opening sharply.

THUDDD.

Outside, several armored wolf knights stood guard beneath burning iron torches. Curved blades resting against their backs.

The attendant quickly bowed toward one of them.

"Call the healer."

The knight immediately frowned. "...did the outsider awaken?"

The attendant nodded quickly. "For a brief moment."

Silence followed instantly afterward, and then the wolf knight straightened immediately afterward. "I shall inform the Lord."

And somewhere beneath the wolf empire’s skies, fate had finally begun pulling two separated souls slowly back toward one another.

Unaware that war, obsession, and blood already moved behind them both.