Luca stood at the window of the royal bedchamber, his fingers resting lightly on the cool stone of the sill. Though his eyes saw nothing, his other senses painted a vivid picture of the world around him. The distant csh of practice swords in the training yard. The scent of baking bread wafting up from the kitchens. The subtle vibration of feet moving through the corridors of the castle.

  But beneath these familiar sensations, something else stirred. A wrongness in the air. A pressure that had been building since Lilith's departure three days ago.

  "You feel it too, don't you?" Elena's small voice came from the doorway. She had developed an uncanny ability to move as silently as her father, often appearing without warning.

  Luca turned, offering a reassuring smile in her direction. "What do you feel, little one?"

  She crossed the room, her footsteps light but detectable to his trained ear. "Something cold. Like when you wade into the ke in early spring and the water makes your bones hurt."

  Luca knelt, bringing himself to her level, and extended his hand. She took it without hesitation. "Where do you feel this cold?"

  "Everywhere," she whispered. "But mostly up there." He felt her gesture upward, toward the sky.

  Luca's concern deepened. At seven, Elena already showed signs of extraordinary perception—perhaps even beyond his own. "Where is your brother?"

  "With Nurse Maren in the library. She's trying to teach him his letters again." A note of childish superiority entered her voice. "He keeps mixing them up."

  "Not everyone learns at the same pace," Luca reminded her gently. "Your brother has other gifts."

  "Like climbing everything he shouldn't?" There was a smile in her voice now.

  "Among others," Luca agreed, rising to his feet. "Come. Let's join them."

  As they walked the familiar path to the library, Luca's unease grew. The stones beneath his feet felt different somehow—cooler, harder. The air pressure had changed, as if a storm approached, yet the castle sounds suggested clear skies.

  He paused, head tilted.

  "Father?"

  "Hush a moment, Elena." He strained his heightened senses, reaching out beyond the immediate surroundings.

  Silence. Complete silence from the training yard.

  His heart quickened. At this hour, the guard rotation should be at its peak. The absence of sound could only mean—

  "Elena, run to the library," he said, keeping his voice calm despite the sudden surge of arm. "Tell Nurse Maren to take you and Alden to the hidden chamber behind the eastern bookcase. Do you remember how to open it?"

  "Third shelf, blue volume, pull twice," she recited promptly.

  "Good girl. Go now. Quickly but quietly."

  She hesitated. "What's happening?"

  "Perhaps nothing," he lied. "But I would feel better knowing you're safe."

  Her small hand squeezed his once before she slipped away, her footsteps fading down the corridor. Luca turned in the opposite direction, toward the Guard Captain's quarters. With Orlen accompanying Lilith, Lieutenant Darian was acting commander.

  He had taken only a few steps when the first scream reached him.

  It came from the direction of the main courtyard—a cry of shock cut brutally short. Then another. And another.

  Something was inside the castle.

  Luca changed direction, moving as swiftly as his cane and memory of the passageways allowed. The hidden chamber in the library was the safest pce for the children, but only if he could buy them time to reach it.

  The sounds of conflict grew louder. Metal against metal. Shouted orders. The unmistakable sound of bodies falling. All coming from the main hall that separated the royal quarters from the rest of the castle.

  Luca reached the small antechamber just before the hall and pressed himself against the wall, listening intently. The fighting had a strange quality to it. The castle guards were clearly engaged with something, but that something made no battle sounds of its own. No war cries. No grunts of exertion. Only a faint hissing, like sand poured slowly onto stone.

  "Hold the line!" Lieutenant Darian's voice rang out. "Whatever these things are, they bleed!"

  Things. Not men. Luca's blood ran cold.

  A rattling gurgle repced Darian's voice. Then a heavy thud. The lieutenant had fallen.

  "Fall back to the royal quarters!" shouted another voice—Sergeant Thorne. "Protect the royal family!"

  Luca retreated several paces and positioned himself at a junction of corridors. If the guards fell, this would be the invaders' path to the library.

  The sounds of battle grew closer. Fewer human voices with each passing moment.

  "Consort!" Sergeant Thorne appeared around the corner, his armor dented and bloody. Three other guards followed, all showing signs of brutal combat. "You must evacuate! The castle is under attack by..." He shook his head in disbelief. "I don't know what they are!"

  "The children," Luca said urgently. "I've sent them to the hidden chamber in the library. We must—"

  An inhuman shriek cut through the air, followed by a rushing sound like a great flock of birds. Thorne pushed Luca behind him as something swept into the corridor.

  The temperature plummeted. Luca felt the change upon his skin, a biting cold that went beyond physical sensation and seemed to chill his very thoughts.

  "By all the gods," whispered one of the guards. "What are they?"

  Though Luca could not see, he could sense their presence. Forms that shifted and flowed like liquid smoke. A pressure against his mind, ancient and impcable.

  "Protect the Consort!" Thorne roared, and the csh of weapons resumed.

  But it was brief. One by one, the guards fell silent. Luca heard their bodies drop heavily to the stone floor.

  He stood alone, cane gripped tightly in one hand, facing entities he could not see but whose malevolence pressed against him like a physical force.

  "You will not pass," he said, his voice firm despite the fear clutching at his throat.

  A sound like ughter rustled through the corridor. Then, impossibly, the air before him spoke—not in words, but directly into his mind.

  The Queen's pet stands guard. How... touching.

  The voice was beautiful, perfect in its resonance, and utterly cold.

  "I am Luca, Royal Consort and father to the heirs of this kingdom," he replied, fighting to keep his voice steady. "Whatever quarrel you have is with me. The children are innocent."

  Innocence is irrelevant. Order is all. And your existence... offends.

  Luca raised his chin. "Then deal with me and leave my children be."

  Another ugh, this one from a different presence—lighter, more musical, but no less chilling.

  Oh, we intend to deal with all of you, broken one. But not as simply as you might hope.

  A force like an invisible hand seized Luca by the throat, lifting him from the ground. His cane cttered to the floor. He struggled, grasping at nothing as his airways constricted.

  Shall we see what the Queen's pet is made of? The first voice again, filled with cold curiosity.

  The pressure released suddenly, and Luca fell to his knees, gasping for breath.

  Follow, commanded the voice.

  When Luca remained kneeling, something invisible and irresistible wrapped around his limbs, pulling him upright like a marionette. His body moved against his will, jerky and uncoordinated, down the corridor toward the library.

  "Elena!" he tried to shout, but no sound emerged. The entities had taken his voice.

  As they approached the library, Luca sensed more presences joining them. Not human. Not anything he had ever encountered before. The cold intensified, a chill so profound it seemed to slow his very thoughts.

  The library doors splintered inward. Luca felt the rush of dispced air as they were torn from their hinges.

  A scream—Nurse Maren's—cut through the silence, followed by the sound of a body thrown violently against bookshelves.

  "Father?" Alden's frightened voice came from across the room.

  Luca fought against the invisible bonds with every ounce of strength he possessed. My children. No. Please.

  Ah, there they are. The cold voice sounded pleased. Hidden away like precious treasures. How predictable.

  Luca felt himself dragged further into the library, then forced to his knees once more. The pressure holding him released slightly, allowing him to speak.

  "Run!" he managed to gasp. "Elena, Alden, run!"

  They cannot escape us, said the second voice, the musical one. But watching them try might be... amusing.

  A small commotion from the far side of the library suggested the children were indeed trying to flee. Luca heard the scrape of the hidden door opening.

  "This way!" Elena's voice, surprisingly commanding for a seven-year-old. "Hurry, Alden!"

  Clever little things, observed the musical voice. But futile.

  A whooshing sound, like great wings beating the air, and then Alden's cry of pain. The sound of a small body falling.

  "Leave him alone!" Elena shouted, followed by her own gasp of surprise as something seized her.

  Luca felt the children being deposited on the floor before him. He could hear their frightened breathing, feel the warmth of their small bodies just beyond his reach.

  Now, broken one, said the cold voice, suddenly intimate in his mind. Let us see how deep your devotion truly runs.

  The invisible bonds forced Luca's right arm to extend. Something cold and heavy materialized in his palm. A knife, he realized, feeling the bde's edge with his thumb.

  Horror dawned as he understood what they intended.

  Kill them, the voice commanded. Kill them and we will spare you further suffering.

  "No." Luca's refusal was absolute.

  Pain exploded through his body, as if every nerve had been set afire simultaneously. He screamed, a raw, animal sound that echoed through the library.

  Kill them, the voice repeated when the pain subsided, leaving Luca trembling. It is the natural order. The weak must be culled. You are their father. It is your right to determine their worth.

  "I would die first." Luca gasped, still reeling from the aftermath of pain.

  That can be arranged, the musical voice interjected, sounding amused. But first, let us be certain of your answer.

  The pain returned, doubled in intensity. Luca's back arched as every muscle contracted in agony. Through his own screams, he heard his children crying, calling his name.

  When the torment receded again, the cold voice spoke with a hint of impatience. We offer mercy. A swift end by your hand, or an eternity of suffering by ours. Choose.

  With tremendous effort, Luca closed his fingers around the knife, feeling its weight, its deadly potential.

  Yes, encouraged the voice. You begin to understand.

  Summoning every shred of his remaining strength, Luca turned the bde—not toward his children, but toward his own heart.

  "Never," he rasped, and drove the knife inward.

  But it met no resistance. The bde dissolved like smoke in his hand.

  Cold ughter echoed through his mind. Did you think it would be so simple, broken one? There is no escape for you. No mercy. Only obedience or suffering.

  "Then I choose suffering." Luca raised his face defiantly, orienting himself toward the voice by instinct. "I will never harm my children."

  Silence fell, heavy and expectant.

  Fascinating, the musical voice finally said. Most mortals break so easily, yet this one refuses despite his... limitations.

  It changes nothing, replied the cold voice dismissively. If he will not be our instrument, we will employ others.

  "Father?" Elena's voice, small and frightened. "What's happening? Who are you talking to?"

  "Be brave, little one," Luca said, wishing he could reach out to her. "Remember everything I've taught you."

  Enough of this, decred the cold voice. The experiment fails. We proceed as pnned.

  The pressure in the room changed suddenly, as if the air itself were being compressed. Luca felt a swirling vortex forming, a tearing in the very fabric of reality.

  "Father!" Alden's panicked cry was followed by the sound of small hands scrabbling against the floor as something pulled him toward the vortex.

  Luca lunged toward his son's voice, breaking free of the invisible restraints through sheer will. His hands found Alden's shoulders, and he pulled the boy against his chest.

  "I have you," he gasped. "I have you."

  But something stronger seized the boy, wrenching him from Luca's grasp.

  "No!" Luca reached desperately, his fingers closing on empty air. "Alden!"

  A small hand gripped his arm—Elena. "Father, they're taking Alden! I can see them—they're made of light and shadow!"

  Luca tried to stand, to follow his son's fading cries, but invisible bonds smmed him back to the floor with crushing force.

  "Elena, run!" he commanded, but her hand remained on his arm, trembling but determined.

  "I won't leave you," she said fiercely.

  The swirling intensified. Luca felt Elena being pulled away just as Alden had been.

  "Fight it!" he shouted, even as her grip on his arm weakened. "Elena! Remember who you are!"

  "I will, Father!" Her voice was fading, growing distant though she was only arm's length away. "I promise! I'll find you again!"

  Then she was gone.

  The silence that followed was absolute. The cold presences remained, watching him, but the children were gone—taken beyond his reach.

  Luca knelt amid the wreckage of the library, his world shattered more completely than when he had lost his sight. The pain of that loss was nothing compared to this hollowing devastation.

  "What have you done with them?" he demanded, his voice breaking. "Where have you taken my children?"

  Beyond your reach, broken one. The cold voice sounded satisfied, almost smug. To separate paths, separate fates. They will grow in worlds that will teach them their proper pce.

  "They are children," Luca pleaded. "Whatever quarrel you have with me—with their mother—leave them out of it."

  They are aberrations, corrected the voice. Offspring of a union that should never have been permitted. Their very existence is an affront to the natural order.

  Rage rose in Luca, burning through his despair. "You are not gods," he snarled. "You are monsters. And I swear by whatever true powers exist in this universe, you will pay for what you've done."

  The musical voice ughed. Brave words from a broken vessel. But your part in this drama is nearly complete.

  The cold voice spoke with finality. It is time. End this.

  New presences entered the library—heavier, more substantial than the ethereal entities that had taken his children. Luca sensed them surrounding him, hulking forms that radiated controlled violence.

  Our instruments are not subtle, the musical voice observed. But they are efficient.

  The first blow caught Luca across the back, sending him sprawling. He rolled, coming up in a fighting stance despite his disabilities, facing his unseen attackers.

  "You've taken my children," he said, his voice deadly calm as he sensed the attackers circling. "You will not take my dignity as well."

  They rushed him all at once. Despite his disabilities, Luca refused to fall without resistance. He had never been a fighter—his strength had always been in his mind, not his body—but the desperate love of a father gave him a momentary power he had never known. He swung wildly at the sounds of movement, connected with something solid. He staggered away from another attacker, using his heightened senses to anticipate their movements.

  For a brief, defiant moment, he stood against them—not with skill or training, but with raw determination and unbreakable will. This was not about winning a fight he could never win; it was about refusing to surrender what remained of his family: his pride, his dignity, his absolute rejection of their attempt to break his spirit.

  But there were too many. A crushing blow to his knee sent him staggering. Another to his jaw snapped his head back. A third to his chest drove the air from his lungs.

  As he fell, Luca heard the cold voice one st time.

  Your Queen will find what remains of you. A message. A warning. The beginning of her education.

  The blows continued, methodical and brutal. Luca felt ribs crack, felt the warm rush of blood from a dozen wounds. Yet even as his body failed, his mind—the source of his true strength all along—remained defiant.

  As consciousness began to slip away, he did not fall to his knees or beg for mercy. Instead, he forced himself to stand as straight as his broken body would allow, facing his tormentors with blind eyes that somehow seemed to see right through them.

  "Remember this moment," he gasped through bloodied lips. "Remember that with all your power, you could not break my will."

  With his st conscious thought, he focused on his children as he knew them—Elena's serious voice when she asked questions, the feel of her small hand in his as she guided him through the gardens; Alden's infectious ughter, the weight of him when he climbed into Luca's p for stories. He held tight to the memory of their warmth, their scents, the texture of their hair beneath his fingers. He poured all his love for them, all his desperate hope that they might somehow survive, into a silent prayer to whatever powers might truly watch over the innocent.

  Then the darkness took him, but not his spirit. That remained unbroken.

  High above in Aetheria, Aurelian observed the broken body of the Queen's consort with cold satisfaction.

  "It is done," he decred. "The aberration is corrected."

  Beside him, Maeris watched with her split face—her light half troubled, her dark half pleased. "The children have been pced as we agreed?"

  "Yes. Separate realms, separate paths. They will grow without knowledge of their origins, shaped by environments that respect the natural order."

  "And the Queen?"

  Aurelian's perfect features curved into what might have been a smile on a more human face. "She races homeward even now, alerted by her guards' urgent ravens. She will find her kingdom secure but her family destroyed. The lesson will be... instructive."

  "You assume she will break," Maeris observed.

  "All mortals break, Sister. It is merely a question of where the breaking point lies."

  From the shadows beyond the silver pool, Morrin watched in silence. The threads of fate around Luca's broken form had not dimmed as expected. Instead, they pulsed with a strange, persistent light—changing color, changing direction, but not severing.

  Interesting. Morrin had existed since before time itself, yet even he could not predict what would come next. The uncertainty was both troubling and exhirating.

  "Watch closely, brothers and sisters," he murmured to himself. "This game has only just begun."

  In the mortal realm, ravens wheeled above the silent castle, their harsh cries the only announcement of the tragedy within. On the northern road, Lilith drove her exhausted horse forward, a single goal consuming her thoughts: home.

  But there was no home left to return to. Only ruins, loss, and the first terrible spark of what would become an immortal vengeance.