The silence came first.
Not as absence, but as something that imposed itself on the space — dense, still, wrong.
For an instant, it seemed to hold everything around it, as if the world itself were waiting.
Then the count opened his only eye.
Ahead: ruin, broken stone, a destroyed seat.
And over it — Éreon.
Seated.
Intact.
As if he had never been struck.
The count was on his knees, a few meters away.
The body still didn't respond.
But something moved.
Inside.
Crawling beneath the skin.
Rising.
He saw.
The marks on Éreon's body closing.
Without effort. Without flaw.
As if they had never existed.
The count felt it.
A dry breath escaped. Almost a laugh.
"So…"
The voice failed, but did not yield.
"you take from one… to remake the other."
The gaze held steady.
Something shifted behind him.
Not in sound, nor in movement — in the space itself.
As if distance ceased to exist for an instant, compressed by a presence that did not need to announce itself.
The air did not retreat.
But it was no longer the same.
"Curious…"
The voice came low.
Steady.
Unhurried.
"to hear that from you."
A measured pause.
"After everything you took."
The silence did not yield.
"Women."
"Children."
The voice did not change.
"All of that… to sustain what you became."
Then the sound came.
Footsteps.
Without hesitation.
Approaching without haste… as if that space already belonged to them.
Ahead, Éreon did not move.
His gaze remained on the count.
Still.
As if none of it was enough to deserve a reaction.
The steps went on until a few meters from Éreon… and stopped.
The count raised his gaze.
First her.
Dark skin, marked by a cold sheen that did not belong to the moon.
Long, silver hair moved in silence, and the eyes — completely white — remained lit, fixed, as if they had never stopped seeing him.
Then the other.
A firm base, the body connected to the ground even at rest.
Brown hair, dense, untamed. The white blindfold covering his eyes did not hide — it only made more evident the way he perceived everything around him.
Finally—
the last one.
Black hair, disheveled, falling carelessly over the forehead. Pale skin marked by fissures of light that pulsed beneath the surface… and the eyes.
One blue. One gold.
The count smiled.
Slow.
His gaze fixed on him.
"So…"
The voice dropped.
Cold.
Controlled.
"After everything that was given to you…"
A short pause.
The gaze did not move.
"you still dare turn against me."
The slight tilt of the head came unhurried.
"Of all people… you, Kaelir."
Kaelir's step faltered.
A minimal recoil.
Instinctive.
Brianna moved before he finished the motion.
She stopped in front of him.
Without looking at Éreon.
"I see you had discernment… and didn't kill him when you had the chance."
The count turned his gaze to her.
An instant.
Measuring.
"So…"
The voice came low.
Carrying something older.
"that woman was not the last."
Brianna's gaze did not waver.
She watched.
His skin split into incandescent veins before reforming — red, alive, like embers under tension.
The eye burned crimson.
Without human reflection.
Black marks spread across his body like corrupted veins, pulsing in their own rhythm.
Bones adjusted with dense, prolonged cracks.
From his head, horns emerged in solid curves, tearing through flesh without resistance.
The silence did not break.
"Tell me, count…"
The voice came lower.
Denser.
"what, exactly… do you believe you created."
The count smiled.
Slow.
"Create?"
A dry breath escaped.
Almost a laugh.
"You speak… as if you were above that."
The head tilted a degree.
"Do you really think… I owe you answers?"
The remaining eye fixed on her.
Cold.
"Or would you rather I explain… how much you still don't understand?"
The silence held the space.
Brianna did not move.
"Understand?"
A short pause.
"No."
The gaze did not waver.
"I saw."
The air seemed to grow heavier by a degree.
"You didn't conquer anything."
A step.
Slow.
"You were guided."
Another.
"Fed."
The voice did not rise.
But deepened.
"And, when you stopped being useful…"
A pause.
"discarded."
The count's smile did not fade.
But something in it locked.
For an instant.
"Careful…"
The voice came low.
"with the certainties you choose to carry."
Brianna tilted her head slightly.
"Profane magic does not grant power."
"Once touched…"
The voice came firm.
"there is no return."
A short pause.
"It takes its price."
The silence closed around them.
"And you…"
Her gaze dropped a degree.
"didn't even understand… what you accepted."
The count held her gaze.
"And you believe you understand?"
The voice came lower.
Sharper.
"You think you see more than I do?"
Brianna did not hesitate.
"You thought…"
A final step.
"that you could bring down an empire."
The air seemed to compress.
"You believed all of this…"
A subtle gesture around.
"would go unnoticed."
Her eyes fixed on him.
Unwavering.
"By the one… who rules these lands."
Silence.
Heavy.
Irreversible.
"You were a fool."
The word fell without lift.
"You believed in empty promises."
A short pause.
"And you didn't realize…"
Her gaze hardened.
"that you were never more than a piece."
The count did not answer.
The silence, this time, was not a choice.
Brianna watched.
For an instant longer.
Then she nodded, minimal.
"Nothing more than a move… in another's game."
A pause.
Her eyes did not leave him.
"And the worst part?"
The voice dropped a degree.
"Not even necessary."
She turned to Kael, unhurried.
"I already have what I needed."
Kael was the first to move, without hesitation.
He took a step, then another, heading toward the exit.
As he passed the count, he slowed.
Stopped for an instant at his side — the weight of his body settling firmly on the ground, as if marking presence before moving on.
The count did not raise his head immediately.
But he heard.
"In the end…"
The voice came low.
"it isn't death that defines a man."
A short pause.
"It's what he builds before it."
The silence weighed.
"And you…"
Kael exhaled slowly.
"left nothing behind that deserves to remain."
The count laughed.
Dry. Forced.
"Serius…"
The name came laced with venom.
The head lifted slightly.
The remaining eye burned.
"You should thank me."
The voice gained force.
Unstable.
"I gave you purpose."
"I tore you out of nothing!"
The body tried to react.
Failed.
"And this is how you repay me?!"
The sound that came out was no longer control.
It was raw anger.
"Running?!"
"Hiding behind them?!"
The breath faltered.
But he went on.
"You belonged to me!"
The silence fell.
Kael did not answer immediately.
He only listened.
Until the end.
Then—
"No."
The voice came low.
Final.
"I survived you."
A pause.
"And that… is something you would never allow."
The count froze.
For a second.
Kael held the silence for an instant.
Brief.
"Seems this is… our last meeting."
And he walked.
Without hesitation.
Brianna shifted her gaze.
Found Kaelir.
A minimal gesture.
He nodded.
Passed by the count without stopping, casting only a glance — empty, definitive — before moving on.
The footsteps moved away, one by one, until they ceased.
And the silence returned to occupy everything.
Dense.
Closed.
Then—
Éreon moved.
Without haste, he rose.
The sound was minimal, but enough to cut the space.
As he passed by Brianna, he did not touch her — but the space yielded so he could cross.
She did not move.
The count's eyes lifted.
Met his.
Black. Deep. Bottomless.
Éreon passed him without stopping, without looking directly — but still present.
"Marionette…"
The word came low.
Almost absent.
"of the shadows."
Something inside the count reacted.
Violent.
More intense than before.
Rising. Tearing.
The breath failed.
Again.
Worse.
"No—"
He did not finish.
Éreon stopped.
One step ahead.
His head tilted slightly, like one who decides.
"Sudden death."
There was no movement.
Only rupture.
The count's head separated from the body without resistance.
The still-living eye — red — fixed on her for one last instant.
White.
Still.
Without retreat.
Then the body fell.
Heavy.
The sound still echoed when the world seemed to give way.
Outside—
Sunlight fell over the marquessate.
The wind crossed the ruins without meeting resistance.
Broken stone.
Open earth.
Nothing remained intact.
Kael and Kaelir were already there.
Still.
Silent.
As if that scene were not new… only confirmation.
Éreon stood a few steps ahead.
Back turned to what remained of the castle.
Still.
As if the destruction required no witness.
Brianna emerged soon after.
Advancing without haste.
Her gaze swept what remained — not searching… only recognizing.
She stopped beside Éreon.
There was no exchange of looks.
No gesture.
"My grandmother used to say…"
The voice came low.
Without unnecessary weight.
"life can only be understood by looking back…"
"but it can only be lived… looking ahead."
The silence stretched.
Full.
Without interference.
Then—
Éreon moved.
Without announcement.
Without hesitation.
He moved forward, without looking back a single time — as if nothing there had ever demanded it.
Brianna followed him for an instant.
Her gaze firm.
Wider now.
"I hope they find rest."
The voice came lower.
Less burdened.
"Not the peace that was denied to them…"
A short pause.
"but for the end… of the one who took it."
The wind answered.
Nothing more.
She closed her eyes for an instant.
Short.
Enough.
First, the sound.
Footsteps.
Distant.
Approaching.
"Brianna…"
The voice came with it.
Low.
As if crossing something thick.
"Brianna."
Closer now.
Calling.
The silence began to give.
And something beyond it… responded.
Footsteps.
Distant.
Approaching.
Then —
Her eyes opened.
Slowly.
As if the world had not yet decided to return.
Only then did she lift her head.
Light cut through the high window, striking the table at a hard angle, revealing dust suspended in the air — still, as if time itself had not yet resumed its course.
The silence was not the same.
It carried weight. Consequence.
Her eyes adjusted.
And then found his.
Light brown. Steady.
Karna stood before the table, still, as if he had already been there long enough to measure everything he needed… and still not be satisfied.
"So… how was it?"
The voice came low.
Direct.
His gaze did not answer immediately.
Dropped a degree.
Fixed.
On her hair.
Straight.
Too precise for someone who had no time for vanity.
"For how long do you intend to keep this up?"
There was no accusation.
But there was no lightness either.
Brianna did not answer immediately.
Her hand rose, lightly touching the strands — not out of care… but recognition.
A choice.
A tool.
"After the count's death… the nobles stirred."
Her voice remained steady.
"And the news of an inspector only accelerated the process."
She lowered her hand.
Her gaze was no longer on him.
"Until the alliances are secured… this position is still useful."
A short pause.
"And I don't intend to waste it."
The silence returned.
But not empty.
Loaded.
She turned to the table.
The documents were scattered — incomplete reports, broken seals, messages cut off halfway through.
Nothing there suggested control.
Only containment.
"Éreon disappeared."
No reaction in her voice.
"Kael went to the northern barony, handling the alliances."
A short pause.
"Phoebe is in the eastern viscounty… doing the same."
Another sheet turned.
"Our forces are reduced."
A short pause.
"One third was lost… in the count's rituals."
Karna moved then.
A single step.
His hands came down on the table with contained weight — not aggressive… but firm enough to interrupt the flow.
"You're trying to hold everything."
The voice came lower.
Closer.
"As if that were possible."
Brianna did not lift her gaze.
"It's what needs to be done."
"Not alone."
The answer came immediate.
Without raising his tone.
But with no room for contest.
The silence stretched.
He did not retreat.
"Kaelir mentioned it."
A brief pause.
"You haven't been leaving this place."
Her eyes did not move.
"There is work."
"There is a limit."
Now there was weight.
Not in the voice.
But in what was not being said.
"And you've already crossed it."
Brianna's hand stopped over the papers.
For an instant.
Just one.
Enough to break the rhythm.
But not to expose weakness.
"Not yet."
The answer came controlled.
Low.
Final.
Karna watched her.
In silence.
His hand rose, passing through his hair in a brief gesture — more habit than unrest.
"While I was tracking traces of Telvaris… I did what you asked."
A short pause.
"I gathered some men."
His gaze returned to her.
"Mercenaries. People from villages."
No pride.
No unnecessary weight.
"A good reward still moves what's left."
Brianna nodded, minimal.
"And?"
Karna did not answer immediately.
He turned.
The movement lost its rigidity at the end.
He let himself fall into the armchair, the body giving more than it should.
His gaze lifted.
Fixed on the ceiling.
For an instant… nothing.
Then—
"I didn't find any trace of her."
The voice came lower.
Less controlled.
Brianna did not move.
"I imagined."
A pause.
"She is… efficient at disappearing."
Her gaze was no longer on the papers.
But it wasn't on him either.
"I spent much of my life trying to find her."
Another pause.
Short.
"And when I do…"
The air did not change.
But something in her did.
"she disappears again."
The silence settled between them.
Unhurried.
Without exit.
"That only reinforces one thing."
The voice came firm.
Back under control.
"It wasn't chance."
Her eyes lowered.
Fixed ahead.
"She brought me here."
Karna turned his face slightly.
Now there was something beyond fatigue.
"You never told me… where you came from."
Brianna held the silence for an instant longer.
Enough to make the question irreversible.
"Because nothing good would come from it..."
"some things… are better left forgotten."
The wind touched the window.
Light.
Unsteady.
And, for the first time since she had awakened—
the silence there was not control.
It was restraint.