The morning light cut through the velvet curtains of Zaliyah's chambers, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air like tiny, frozen stars.
Zaliyah opened his eyes to a familiar, comforting presence. Harun and Iruna were seated on stools pulled close to the edge of his bed, their heads lolling in the air , they had stood guard at his bedpost for hours as such they couldn't escape the inevitable slumber.
Zaliyah watched them for a moment, a soft warmth blooming in his chest. He reached out a thin, pale hand and gently caressed Iruna's brown hair. She didn't wake up, her was breathing deep .
Zaliyah slowly and silently began to slide the heavy fur blankets away, determined to let them rest. However, as his feet touched the cold stone floor, his balance-still treacherous and uncoordinated-betrayed him.
He stumbled, the world tilting to the left. But before he could hit the floor, a pair of strong arms caught him mid-air.
Harun's eyes were instantly alert, his protective instincts overriding his exhaustion. He steadied Zaliyah, his grip was firm and very gentle.
"Careful, Your Highness," Harun whispered.
"The floors here are polished to a treacherous sheen. Are you hurt?"
Zaliyah shook his head, offering a small, grateful smile as Harun helped him sit on the edge of the bed.
The movement woke Iruna, who scrambled to her feet. "What happened? Did he fall? Is the baby okay?"
"He almost slipped," Harun replied, not letting go of Zaliyah's arm. "The Northwest is made of ice and stone, Iruna. Even the indoors aren't safe."
Iruna rushed to Zaliyah's side, her hands fluttering over him. "Your Highness, are you truly okay? You must call for us before you try to move."
Zaliyah patted her hand reassuringly and reached for the parchment and ink on the nightstand. Yes, Iruna, it's okay, he wrote. But I feel like I'll suffocate to death in these furs. They are very heavy .
Harun immediately signaled to the maids outside the door. "Bring hot water. Prepare the bath. Now."
As Iruna helped Zaliyah peel away the suffocating layers of silks and fur, the scars on his neck were revealed-the darkclaw marks that seemed to come alive against his pale throat.
In the bathhouse, the steam rose in thick, fragrant clouds. Zaliyah sat in the warm water, his eyes fixed on his reflection in the mirrored surface of the bath. He kept touching the ridges of the scars, his fingers tracing the violence of the marks.
"Does it hurt?" Iruna asked softly as she scrubbed his back with a silk sponge.
Zaliyah shook his head, but his eyes remained troubled.
Later, seated by the roaring fireplace and dressed in light, breathable robes, Zaliyah sat watching the flames. The furs were nearby if he felt cold, but for now, he wanted to feel the air. Iruna stood behind him, brushing his silvery hair with soothing strokes, while Harun stood like a pillar by the door.
Zaliyah's fingers went back to his throat. During their training sessions, Thalassa had been blunt: "The boy's mind is a broken mirror. If you try to glue the pieces back together too quickly, he will bleed out."
The twins had spent hours crafting a lie-a necessary poison to keep him stable.
Zaliyah picked up his ink. What happened to my neck?
Harun stepped forward, he calmly replied. "You were bitten by insects, Your Highness. When we first arrived, a swarm of mountain vermin found their way into the carriage. They are... aggressive in this territory."
Zaliyah paused, his brow furrowing. He wrote: Why does it look like claws? And why can't I speak? What did the physician say?
Iruna's hand faltered for a second before she continued brushing. "The insects here are very strange, Your Highness. They carry a venom that causes temporary paralysis of the throat and... strange mental fog. Loss of voice and fragmented memory are the primary symptoms. It will pass."
Zaliyah stared at the paper, then at them. And I thought this place was a a semi-human paradise, he wrote, a hint of his old wit returning.
"It is certainly better than the Capital City," Iruna replied quickly, her voice a bit too high.
Zaliyah scribbled another question, his expression turning serious. I almost forgot-how long have we been here? The bugs really messed with my head. I can't remember anything after I left the banquet. I just remember that lousy, weird-looking commander who came with no gifts, announcing to the entire audience that I'm a pregnant Celestial. He rolled his eyes at the memory of Xulthas.
Iruna let out a genuine giggle. "Well... do you believe that you're pregnant now?"
Zaliyah looked down at the unmistakable swell of his middle. He touched it tentatively, feeling the solid, living weight.
He wrote: Honestly, I'd rather think I've just got a beer belly, even though I don't drink beer.
The twins laughed,a sound of pure relief.
For a moment, the lies didn't matter. For a moment, they were just three friends in a room, hiding from a cruel world.
While Zaliyah was gobbling down his third plate of honey-glazed venison, a world away in the Capital, the atmosphere was far more somber.
Malachi stood in a small, lavender-scented bedroom. On the bed lay Nyxian, his youngest sister. She was a frail thing, her eyes wide and innocent-the only person in the three realms Malachi treated with genuine, unforced tenderness.
He had just finished reading her a story about the stars.
As he leaned down to kiss her forehead, Nyxian grabbed his sleeve. "B-B-Brother," she stammered, her voice small. "Whe-when will sis-sister-in-law be back?"
The air in the room seemed to drop twenty degrees. Malachi's expression went cold, the muscles in his jaw tightening. For a heartbeat, the monster that had broken Zaliyah's jaw threatened to surface. But then he looked at Nyxian's expectant face.
"Go to sleep, little Xian", he said "If you sleep, he'll come to your dreams."
The little girl nodded, satisfied. "G-G-Goodnight, brother."
"Goodnight, little Xian."
Malachi exited the room, his silk billowing behind him like a cloud of smoke. He walked through the silent halls of his palace, his footsteps echoing like thunder. He had sent his "pet" away, but the ghost of Zaliyah lived in every corner of this palace.
Back in the Northwest, Xulthas sat in his study, a massive spellbook open on his lap. He was tracing the ancient runes of a blood-binding spell, his fingers glowing with a faint, emerald light.
Thalassa entered, followed by a maid carrying a tray of bitter tea. Xulthas didn't look up until the maid had bowed and exited.
He took a sip of the tea, the steam fogging his glasses.
"He is adapting quite well," Thalassa noted, leaning against the doorframe.
"Even I would adapt well if I had a fragmented memory," Xulthas spoke "Ignorance is the finest silk to wrap oneself in."
Thalassa nodded
"It still amazes me how he's okay with being weak," Xulthas added, flipping a page.
Thalassa smiled . "Cut the boy some slack, Xulthas. He was forced into a world he knows nothing about. He is still trying to navigate."
"You always have an excuse for weaklings," Xulthas scoffed.
"I try to understand people before passing judgment," Thalassa countered. "Moreover, the fact that he didn't die from Malachi's brutality proves he isn't weak. Most would have shattered."
"Anyone could survive that with a Celestial core," Xulthas added, though his tone was less certain.
He knew Malachi's history. He had grown up with Malachi and Thalassa. He remembered the day Malachi's mother had taken her own life, and the madness that had taken root in the young prince. Xulthas himself had barely survived Malachi's childhood rages, yet here he was, downplaying the boy who had survived the King's worst.
"The maids say he is quite fond of reading," Thalassa said, changing the subject. "He has been asking a multitude of questions about our history."
"Malachi did tell me he loves books," Xulthas added.
"Malachi?" Thalassa asked, her eyebrows rising.
Xulthas grinned, "Malachi killed his own kin for that boy. He sent him here to live a luxurious life in exile after finding him in the arms of that human dog. You think the King wouldn't know his little pet's hobbies?"
Thalassa's smile widened. "He has Malachi wrapped around his fingers, and yet he is completely unaware of the power he holds over the throne."
"Even Kizari," Xulthas mused, "whom Malachi has a soft spot for, wouldn't go unscathed if she brought a bastard into the royal palace. But for Zaliyah? Malachi protects the very child that proves his betrayal."
Thalassa stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You have Malachi's only weakness under your roof, Commander. This is a one-time opportunity."
Xulthas didn't respond, but his grin deepened. He looked back at his spellbook, but his mind was already weaving a much more complicated web.
The next morning, Zaliyah woke up feeling more refreshed than he had in months. On his nightstand, he found a note written in Iruna's messy, looped handwriting.
"Did you sleep well, Your Highness? We had training so early this morning and couldn't say good morning. Eat well! Harun added a book collection to your chambers so you don't have to stress yourself walking to the library today. - This is Iruna (just in case you forgot!)"
Zaliyah smiled. Who else but Iruna would sign her name like that?
He spent the day in a peaceful haze. He explored the newly delivered books-histories of the Snow Monsters and ancient demon poetry-and took short, sluggish tours of the castle when he felt the need to stretch his legs.
In the evening, the twins returned, smelling of frost and exertion. They sat by the fireside as Iruna took up her post brushing Zaliyah's hair. They spoke about their day-Harun's training with Thalassa, Iruna's struggles with the heavy Northwest clay during her drills, while Zaliyah listened, nodding and writing small quips on his paper.
For the first time since the portal closed they felt at peace.
Zaliyah leaned his head back against Iruna's knees, watching the embers pop and hiss. He was a prisoner in a land of ice, carrying a child of a man he might never see again, but as the brush moved through his hair, he felt, for a fleeting moment, like he could finally breathe.