5 Iors -10 months- later.
"Bow your heads, for now enter the King and Queen of Kohl!"
The announcer's voice carried through the grand chamber, a crisp, commanding call that brought every conversation to a halt. Atop a gilded podium, he stood tall, dressed in a light blue vest adorned with golden buttons and exquisite embroidery. As the sound echoed through the room, all eyes turned to the great doors at the far end of the hall.
The grand hall of the Kohlian palace was a masterpiece of wealth and craftsmanship, a testament to the enduring power of the Forlay dynasty. Vaulted ceilings arched above a sea of nobility, lit by the glow of a thousand chandeliers. Crimson and gold banners fluttered along the walls, each bearing the emblem of Kohl—a lion's head wreathed in flame. Servants moved among the nobles with practiced grace, their trays balancing goblets of Eresidian wine and delicacies rare enough to bankrupt smaller houses.
Tonight's celebration was like no other.
It honored two things: the economic partnership with the merchant kingdom of Eresid, and the birthday of Princess Lillith Forlay who was turning 10 Miors old.
Traditionally, royal birthdays were quiet affairs—private, secretive, and veiled from the public eye. But not this one. Lillith herself had requested it, insisting on a celebration worthy of the world's gaze. And so, the kingdom answered.
As the great doors creaked open, nobles dropped to one knee. Their silken robes brushed against the polished marble as the King and Queen of Kohl entered.
King Ikiel Forlay led the procession. His imposing frame was draped in a robe of deep crimson and gold filigree. His brown hair swept back cleanly, revealing sharp green eyes that missed nothing. A golden crown rested on his brow, gleaming in the light like a brand of power.
At his side, Queen Voira moved with regal poise. Her midnight silk gown flowed like water, her charcoal-black hair cascading behind her. Hazel eyes watched the crowd coolly, her expression unreadable.
And behind them, the princess.
Lillith Forlay walked with a grace honed by years of expectation. Her icy blue gown shimmered like frost beneath the chandeliers, its silver embroidery catching the light. Snow-white hair was braided into an elegant crown atop her head, and her red eyes—piercing and bright—swept across the room. When she smiled, it was perfect. Practiced. Hollow.
She had grown tired of the game.
It wasn't that wealth made her unhappy. She understood the weight of her privilege. But all the gowns, the titles, the carefully arranged marriages—they weren't real. She longed for something greater: freedom. Adventure. The raw, unfiltered bonds born in war and survival. In the court, trust was a currency no one could afford to spend. Outside? It could mean everything.
A group of nobles approached.
"Princess Lillith, you look absolutely radiant this evening," said a young lord from a minor house.
"I am pleased you think so," she replied with a poised smile. "My father wanted tonight to be memorable."
An older noblewoman leaned in, her voice lowered in a conspiratorial tone. "Five Iors since the Kolashi fell, and look at us now. The Forlay dynasty stronger than ever. A well-executed campaign."
Lillith's smile faltered.
The Kolashi.
She remembered the whispers. An entire warrior tribe, eradicated in moments. Not a single soul left to resist. The nobles around her treated it like a business deal—efficient, bloodless. But she knew better.
Somewhere deeper in the palace, beyond the celebrations, a meeting was taking place.
King Ikiel of Kohl and King Huvon of Eresid sat alone, a parchment resting between them.
"Without Eresid's funding, the Apsies would've never pulled it off," Ikiel said quietly.
Huvon nodded. "Kohl's stability is in my best interest. The Kolashi were a threat. Eliminating them was necessary."
There was no pretense. Eresid's wealth had armed the Apsies, and Kohl had given them cause. A massacre bought with gold and justified with power.
Back in the ballroom, Lillith played her role. She smiled. She danced. But the words of the nobles echoed in her mind like poison.
Eventually, she slipped out onto the balcony, hoping to clear her thoughts. The half-moon of Kohl shone high in the sky, casting a pale glow over the kingdom. Its missing half had long been forgotten, much like the suffering of those who had no place in noble halls.
She stared upward. The stars shimmered. The wind tousled her white hair, tugging at her sleeves like an invitation. Take me with you, she thought. Take me far from this place.
It was selfish. She knew that. She was first in line to the throne, bound to a legacy she had never asked for. Her parents wanted her married—to strengthen alliances, to prepare her to rule. And they weren't wrong.
But that didn't make the weight any lighter.
"Princess! His Majesty the King requests your presence." a voice called from behind.
She turned. Her father's advisor stood in the doorway, breathless and flushed with sweat.
He wouldn't dare complain. No one did. To oppose the King—or worse, Viray—was to invite death. Public hanging if you were lucky. Generational execution if you weren't.
She hated it. This world built on fear and superiority. Where nobles were taught from birth to look down on others. To avoid the poor. To believe themselves gods among men.
She hated it all.
"Where is he?" she asked.
"The throne room," the man replied.
She followed.
The throne room doors opened.
She was back in the fire—nobles talking, laughing, drinking. The same men with the same words. And then she saw him.
A man in a black cloak stood beside her father.
That alone was strange. Few ever stood near the king. But what stunned her more—her father was laughing. Not a smirk. Not a chuckle. A full, thunderous laugh.
She stared.
That wasn't possible.
King Ikiel hadn't laughed in years. And now he was grinning as if reunited with a long-lost brother.
"Come forward," he said, motioning to her.
She approached, eyes on the stranger.
He had curly brown hair, wild and untamed. A scar ran beneath his eye. His dark silver eyes gleamed with something unreadable. His arms were wrapped in decaying bandages, loose enough to reveal old wounds beneath.
His presence was strange—haunting, almost. He looked like death cloaked in warmth.
"This is Aronis," her father said. "A friend."
Friend?
Few men had that title. Even fewer kept it.
She gave a slight bow—just enough. Royals bowed to no one but their own.
"Oh please, no need for that," Aronis said with a relaxed smile. His voice was deep, smooth. "In fact—"
He bowed.
"Happy birthday, Princess."
"You're very kind," she replied coolly. She didn't understand him. He spoke casually, dressed plainly. He didn't seem noble. But he stood beside her father. Why?
"Aronis helped us resolve the Kolashi issue," her father added with another laugh.
Issue?
Her blood boiled.
She turned to Aronis. "So you killed all those people?"
Before he could speak, King Huvon interrupted.
"They weren't people. Closer to Golaxians than us. He did Kohl a great service."
Aronis nodded.
But it was fake.
His smile didn't reach his eyes. Not even close.
And for just a moment, Lillith hesitated.
Maybe… maybe there was more to him.
Maybe he didn't want to smile either.