That night, when Noel returned to his chambers, sleep refused to come.
The day had been too long. He twisted and turned under the sheets—his body restless, his mind even more so. Eventually, exhaustion dragged him into the cradle of dreams—but it brought no peace.
The nightmares returned.
Once again, he stood in a sea of fire. The heat scorched his skin, curling around him like a living thing, burning away his sanity. A sword—deep and unmoving—was lodged in his gut. Around him, muffled groans and the screams of comrades lost in chaos filled the air.
He relived it over and over—each time more vivid, more suffocating—until he could take no more.
At the break of dawn, his eyes flew open.
Today was no less cruel.
His father, Duke Edmund Vallis, was returning from a long diplomatic mission abroad. And with his return came the storm Noel could no longer avoid.
Soon, the Duke would confront him—about the sacred artifact.
Perhaps worse, the council might gather to discuss the future of the Vallis heir.
Noel could feel it in his gut.
That afternoon, after Duke Vallis returned and took a short rest, a summons came.
The Duke had requested Noel's presence.
In his private study.
The Duke asked Noel about his days during his absence.
It surprised Noel—his father was a man of few words. He never wasted time on small talk. This kind of question wasn't normal, and it made Noel uneasy.
He opened his mouth to answer, but then stopped.
Something was strange.
His father's eyes were wet.
Duke Edmund Vallis—the noble duke, cousin to the Emperor himself—was crying. Silent tears ran down his face, and his hands trembled as he held a stack of papers.
Noel froze, unsure what to do or say.
Then, without a word, his father pulled him into a tight embrace.
It was the first time in years Noel had felt his father's arms around him.
The hug was strong—desperate. Like he was afraid to let go. Like he might lose Noel forever.
Noel didn't understand what was happening. But in that moment, the man who had always been cold and distant… finally felt like a father.
Soon, Noel's own tears began to blur his vision. He couldn't hold them back any longer. Both father and son cried quietly, holding onto each other like nothing else in the world mattered.
Eventually, the weight of the day and the storm of emotions became too much for Noel. His small, tired body gave in. His eyelids grew heavy, and he slowly drifted to sleep in his father's arms.
Edmund carried him back to bed, careful not to wake him.
He stood for a long time at Noel's bedside, looking down at his sleeping son.
There was regret in his eyes—deep and painful. The kind that arrives too late.
Then, in a quiet voice, he turned to a nearby servant.
"Move the boy's chambers. I want him in the room next to mine," he said.
"As soon as possible."
And for the first time in years, the cold Duke Vallis sounded... human.
As the servants moved to follow his orders, Edmund remained by the door, silently watching over Noel.
His son's face was calm now, the pain of the day hidden behind soft breaths and closed eyes.
Inside his mind, the Duke made a vow.
I will not lose him.
Not my son.
Not to those hunters… not to anyone.
He clenched his fists.
They had already taken too much. Had misled him once. But no more.
Noel was all he had left—and this time, he would protect him.
No matter the cost.
Even if it meant turning against the very people he once trusted with his life.