"Even the brightest star casts a shadow — and those who stand too close to the throne forget which side they're on."
The moonlight was at its fullest that night.
It poured through the latticed windows of the royal palace, silver and still, bathing the room in calm luminescence.
Inside, Crown Prince Kaen Asterion sat cross-legged at a low jade table, a pot of steaming tea before him. Across from him, the masked figure sat motionless, his presence quiet but heavy — like a blade drawn yet unseen.
Kaen lifted his teacup slowly, his eyes reflecting the moonlight above. The stars shimmered faintly beyond the palace ceiling — their light distant, unreachable, much like the peace he sought.
He took a slow sip, then exhaled softly, setting the cup down with deliberate grace.
His gaze drifted upward, through the open balcony that overlooked the capital below. The city of Asterion was a sea of lights — countless lanterns floating across the streets, flickering like fireflies beneath the watchful sky.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Kaen murmured. "How calm everything looks from above."
The masked man didn't answer.
Kaen chuckled quietly, though there was no humor in the sound. "Calm… until you look closer."
He turned his gaze back to the tea, swirling the liquid inside before setting it down again. His expression hardened.
"The banquet," he said, his tone suddenly sharp. "It will be held in three weeks' time. I've sent invitations to every noble family, every young master, every sect heir worth their name."
He leaned back slightly, his golden eyes gleaming with ambition. "The city will see its grandest celebration yet. The entire younger generation of Asterion will be under one roof — united in revelry."
The masked man tilted his head slightly, though his face remained hidden behind the veil.
Kaen continued, "All five factions will be present — the Crown Faction, the Royal Guard, the Sect Alliance, the Military Houses, and even the Merchant Guild. I want them all here."
His voice lowered, carrying a tone that could have frozen wind. "The kingdom has grown… restless. They've forgotten who sits beneath the crown."
The masked man chuckled lightly, his voice low, hoarse — the kind that carried amusement and warning alike. "Cut the act, Kaen."
Kaen's eyes flicked toward him, unamused.
"You don't need to dress your words in silk when it's just the two of us," the masked man said, his tone calm but mocking. "You and I both know why you're holding that banquet. It's not unity you want. It's control."
Kaen said nothing.
"You think I can't see it?" the man continued, leaning slightly forward. "The five factions are stirring — testing your strength, testing the royal family's resolve. You plan to use this banquet to remind them of their place. A 'show of harmony,' right? A performance, where you smile and they kneel."
Kaen smirked faintly, lifting his cup again. "And what's wrong with that?"
The masked man shrugged. "Nothing. Unless it fails."
That made Kaen pause.
The man continued, his tone growing serious. "If anything goes wrong — anything at all — the banquet won't be your show of power. It'll be your downfall."
Kaen's eyes narrowed.
"The factions aren't fools," the man went on. "They'll seize the moment, twist it into proof of your weakness. And if they succeed…"
He leaned back. "They won't just undermine you. They'll replace you."
The silence that followed was cold.
The flickering candlelight cast both men's shadows long across the floor — one sharp and unyielding, the other shifting like mist.
Kaen finally set down his cup. His expression was calm again, but the air around him pulsed faintly with suppressed energy.
"Do you think I don't know that?" he said softly.
His golden eyes gleamed like a predator's in the dark. "Let them come. Let them test me. The stronger their suspicion, the harder they'll fall when the time comes."
The masked man tilted his head, almost as if amused by Kaen's confidence. "And what of Noah?"
At the mention of the second prince's name, Kaen's calm cracked slightly.
The man continued, his tone almost playful. "The rumors say he's building his own network — pulling strings in the military, buying loyalty from the sects. Even now, while you plan your banquet, he's moving his pieces on the board."
Kaen's jaw tightened. "Let him. He's always been ambitious."
"Ambitious?" The masked man laughed lightly. "He's already more than that. You may hold the crown, Kaen, but Noah's shadow is stretching further by the day. If he continues unchecked, he won't need to take your throne — he'll make it irrelevant."
Kaen's eyes flared gold for an instant. "He's my brother."
The masked man's voice lowered, steady. "He's also your rival. And rivals don't stop until one of you is gone."
The room fell silent again.
Outside, the moon climbed higher, its light cutting across the table like a blade of silver.
Kaen leaned back, his expression unreadable. "Three weeks," he said finally. "That's all I need."
He looked out at the city once more, his gaze hard. "Three weeks… and I'll remind the world who the true heir of Asterion is."
The masked man chuckled quietly. "Then I'll pray your play doesn't turn into your funeral."
Kaen smiled faintly. "If I fall, I'll make sure the kingdom falls with me."
The two drank in silence after that, their thoughts hidden behind calm faces. The night outside stretched endlessly, stars glimmering faintly above a city that slept unaware of the storm building beneath its sky.
———
Meanwhile, deep within the Verdant Forest, chaos unfolded.
The once-steady rainfall was now a torrential downpour, washing away the blood and mud that stained the ground.
Boom!
The sound of clashing steel echoed again, shaking the forest to its roots.
The straw-hatted man and Prince Noah stood apart once more, both breathing heavily, their weapons slick with rain and chaos energy.
Their last clash had sent a shockwave strong enough to level a dozen trees. The ground between them was torn and scorched, steam rising where their energies had collided.
Noah smirked, his silver eyes gleaming under the storm. "Not bad," he said softly. "But not good enough."
The straw-hatted man said nothing, only adjusted his stance slightly, dagger poised and steady.
Then — without warning — figures emerged from the shadows.
Blurs of movement, cloaked in dark armor, encircled Noah in a protective formation. Their presence was strong — each one radiating the power of a seasoned cultivator.
"About time," Noah said coldly, lowering his blade slightly.
The man in the straw hat exhaled softly, eyes flicking between the newcomers. The odds had changed.
One of the figures stepped forward — a woman in flowing dark robes, her long silver hair spilling down her shoulders like a river of blood. Her eyes gleamed with quiet cunning beneath the rain.
She pulled down her hood, revealing a face sharp as glass and twice as dangerous.
"Miralyn Valen," Noah said smoothly. "You're late."
She smiled faintly, her tone calm but teasing. "My apologies, Your Highness. The rain made me… slower than usual."
Her gaze turned toward the straw-hatted man. "It seems you've been entertaining yourself."
Noah chuckled, raising his sword once more. "Not for long."
The straw-hatted man tensed, the rain now falling harder, each droplet hissing where it touched the lingering chaos energy.
He knew he was outnumbered — and outmatched.
In one fluid motion, he slashed downward, his blade cutting into the air itself. A burst of chaotic wind exploded outward, throwing rain and leaves into a swirling vortex.
When the gust settled — he was gone.
The forest fell silent again, save for the soft hiss of rain and the steady breathing of those who remained.
Noah sheathed his blade, his smirk returning. "Interesting."
Miralyn stepped beside him, her violet eyes glinting faintly in the moonlight. "Should I pursue?"
Noah shook his head. "No. He'll come back."
He looked up at the moon, rain dripping down his face. "They always do."
The lightning flashed once more — illuminating the three of them standing amid the ruins of the forest.
A prince.
A loyal viper.
And the echo of a battle that had only just begun.
———
"In the game of crowns, storms don't pass — they choose sides."