Prince Henry's study glowed with candlelight, the flames trembling as though they sensed the storm before it arrived.
The door flew open.
King Alexander stormed inside, his crown slightly askew, his face stripped of all royal composure. Rage clung to him like smoke.
Both Prince Henry and Hugo stiffened. The king's voice cracked through the room like a whip.
"What do you think you are doing?"
Prince Henry did not answer at once. He reached up slowly, dragging the heel of his hand across his face, wiping away the last trace of tears. When he rose from behind his desk, his posture was straight, his expression unreadable. If he were breaking, he would not allow his father to see it.
"Perhaps," Henry said evenly, "you should ask yourself the same question, Father. You are the one who invited demons into our lives."
"Enough, Henry!" King Alexander thundered.
"No," Henry snapped, pacing the room now, his restraint finally splintering, "Enough has not been enough even for a moment. Since the day I learned the truth, I have not slept. I have searched for another way, begged, negotiated, offered everything I could think of just to spare Helena. Every path leads nowhere."
He stopped abruptly, turning on his father, his eyes burning.
"Do you even understand what you're condemning her to?" Henry demanded, "They won't simply take her. They'll drag her into hell itself. They intend to use her. Make her bear a demon's child. Your grandchild will not be human. Is that what victory looks like to you?"
Silence swallowed the room.
Henry's voice dropped, rougher now, "Even Beelzebub refused my offers."
King Alexander coughed sharply, "You met Beelzebub?"
Henry told King Alexander everything. Nimrod's visit, his intrusion into Helena's chamber, the way he had worn Henry's face like a borrowed mask. As the words spilled out, the king's expression hollowed, guilt etching deeper lines into his face.
"We," Henry stopped himself, his voice hardening. "No... Not we, since you seem unwilling to save your own daughter, I will protect her while I still can."
King Alexander stared at the wall, his voice barely audible, "If you succeed... if you somehow break the pact... Lucifer himself will come. Not his son. Lucifer. And he will not bargain. He will kill your mother, Helena, you… and every soul in Vertox. He will burn the kingdom to ash just to punish us."
The words crushed the air from Henry's lungs.
He sank into a chair, the room spinning. Millions of lives. His mother. Helena. Himself. All balanced on the blade of a single, unforgivable decision.
"So that's it," Henry whispered, "We sacrifice Helena… to save everyone else?"
King Alexander nodded, his face carved with regret, "There is no other choice."
Henry stood so abruptly that the chair scraped across the floor.
"I can't believe this," he said, his voice shaking, "Your daughter's life is at stake, and all you can think about is maintaining order, your legacy, your damned crown."
"You won't understand until you wear it," King Alexander muttered.
Henry met his gaze, unflinching, "Then let me wear it."
The king frowned, "What are you saying?"
For a fleeting moment, an old prophecy stirred in King Alexander's mind; words spoken years ago by a palace seer: One close to you will rise against you, born of your own mistakes.
The memory chilled him.
Henry pressed on, merciless now, "Do you have any shame left, Father? You traded your own flesh and blood for power. And you think you can hide this forever? When Helena disappears, what will you tell them? That she's ill? That she's resting? How long before the truth rots through the palace walls?"
He leaned against his desk, voice cold and precise, "Step aside. Give me the crown. It may be the only way to lessen the fury of a people who will one day learn what you've done."
The words struck like blows.
King Alexander said nothing. He turned slowly and walked out of the study, his steps unsteady, George falling into place beside him. The door closed softly behind them, leaving Prince Henry alone beneath flickering candlelight.