The Next Morning
Aria received the letter.
She read it in silence.
A marriage proposal… from him.
By the time she set the parchment down, she wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry.
Her morning training session felt like a personal war zone.
Abigel had already fought with half the knights before she even arrived. The rest stayed far out of his way, like prey sensing a predator's presence. His black aura rippled across the field like storm clouds pressed too close to the ground.
Luckily, Aria was training with Sir Issac today—one of the few who had escaped Abigel's wrath.
"At this point," Issac muttered while glancing toward the chaos, "they're going to die from overtraining before the enemy ever arrives."
Aria sighed.
Without a word, she walked across the training field toward Abigel. His aura twitched the moment it sensed her nearing—then froze, like it was holding its breath.
"Let's go," she said.
Abigel didn't move. His hand clenched around the sword hilt until his knuckles turned white.
Aria narrowed her eyes. "Come on, your highness," she said with a teasing smirk.
That got his attention.
He turned to her slowly. His aura dimmed—calmer now—but his eyes were anything but.
They were dark.
He stepped forward, slowly, like a beast drawn to its tether.
"Is that what I am to you now?" Abigel asked, voice low. "A prince you mock on the training field?"
Aria raised a brow. "What else should I call someone who's turning knights into corpses over a letter?"
His jaw tightened. "That letter was not a joke."
"No," she agreed quietly. "But you're treating it like a personal threat."
Abigel said nothing. His silence stretched until it became too loud. Too heavy.
Then, in a voice only she could hear, he added, "Because it is."
Aria blinked, caught off guard.
"That letter means someone else wants to own you," he said. "Wrap you in gold chains and call it love. I won't watch that happen."
His gaze darkened. "I wasn't there when you nearly died before. I won't make that mistake."
There was a beat of silence between them. A wind passed through the training field, but she only felt the chill from his words.
"I'm not a thing to be fought over," Aria said softly, but her voice trembled.
"I know." His tone cracked.
Then he reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from her cheek. His fingers lingered. "But I'll still fight."
She didn't pull away. Her heartbeat too loudly. Her body leaned too easily into that warmth.
Just as his hand moved to cradle her face—just as their lips hovered a breath apart—
"Lady Aria!"
They both turned sharply.
Annie stood at the edge of the field, holding a folded letter with the royal seal.
"Another letter just arrived," she said, eyes flicking nervously between the two.
Aria swallowed, her voice suddenly dry. "From the palace?"
"No. From Ashkalon."
Aria opened the letter.
To Lady Aria Althaea Kaelen,
By the decree of His Majesty, King Rahim of Ashkalon,
You are hereby formally invited to the Capital of Ashkalon as an honored guest of the royal house.
With the kingdom's National Day approaching, we would be delighted if you would join the royal family in the celebration. We trust this invitation finds you well.
—King Rahim
After reading the letter, Aria glanced at Theo and Abigel.
"They're really trying hard to bring her to Ashkalon," Theo muttered.
"How long will it take Malric to send the reports?" Abigel asked, eyes fixed on Alwin.
"A week," Alwin replied. "Ashkalon is far from the North. It takes time."
"I think it's better if Aria goes," Theo said calmly, meeting their eyes. "That way, Malric can hand over the report in person."
"But Father, it's not safe," Abigel protested, his tone tight. "We already know they want something from her."
"I'll send someone with her," Theo said, his voice final—an order, not a suggestion.
The decision to send Aria to Ashkalon was dispatched to both the capital and the southern duchy. Refusing King Rahim's invitation was nearly impossible, especially after receiving the marriage proposal.
Even if Abigel hated the idea, he couldn't defy Theo's command. And since Theo lacked auras, it meant Abigel would have to stay behind—to protect the North.
Meanwhile, in the tower—
Icarus's experiment had finally succeeded.
In his office, he hummed softly while jotting down notes, the faint scent of burnt herbs still lingering. Without warning, a shadow slithered into the room, materialising behind him—a dark presence cloaked in a swirling black mist.
"You again," Icarus muttered without turning. "What does Umbros want now?"
"I was sent by my master," the black aura—Umbros—replied flatly, as if he couldn't be less interested. "Lady Aria is heading to Ashkalon under King Rahim's invitation. Also, Second Prince Khalid has submitted an official engagement proposal."
Icarus stopped writing.
"My master won't be able to accompany her, and as of now, the escort is still undecided."
A cold glint flashed in Icarus's eyes. "Khalid, hmm… Looks like the little prince needs a lesson." He tapped his quill against the desk. "Tell the young duke to keep an eye on him. I'll take care of Aria myself."
Umbros remained still, shadows coiling lazily around his form.
"Have they figured out the truth about the deceased knight?" Icarus asked casually.
"They have," Umbros replied. "But the diary hasn't been found yet."
Icarus chuckled. "So, your master is still as useless as ever."
The air shifted. Umbro's form tightened, shadows thickening like a storm. The pressure in the room spiked, and Icarus coughed as the air grew dense.
Then he laughed. "You know very well that won't work on me."
"I still don't appreciate mockery," Umbros growled, voice low and dangerous.
"Fine, fine. Protective as always," Icarus said, raising his hands in mock surrender. He shut his eyes briefly, then opened them with renewed clarity. "Tell him to find the diary—fast. And make sure the brooch stays hidden."
Umbros gave a curt nod and vanished, leaving only the whisper of shadows in his wake.
Icarus tapped his desk again, his expression unreadable.
"Vireth," he called softly.
In response, a shadow-crowned raven emerged from his right shoulder, its feathers laced with a rich purple glow. It was slightly larger than a common raven, its eyes glinting with intelligence and something more… ancient.
"Find him," Icarus commanded.
Without a sound, Vireth took to the sky, disappearing into the ether like a ripple of night.
As the air settled, another creature rose from Icarus's back—this one larger, more majestic. A purple phoenix-hawk, a rare and powerful hybrid, unfurled its wings in silence. Its presence crackled with ethereal energy.
"Master, shall I go to the lady?" the phoenix-hawk asked, its voice feminine and warm, threaded with flames.
"Not yet, Kirael," Icarus replied. His fingers stopped tapping. "First, locate the Dragon Heart."
Kirael dipped her head and soared through the high windows, leaving trails of shimmering purple fire in her wake.
Meanwhile, in the South Duchy—
Khalid moved through the narrow alleys; his figure cloaked in black. His hood masked his identity, but his eyes were alert, scanning every corner as if chasing shadows.
From one of the lesser-known exits of the duchy, another figure appeared—slim, quick, and wrapped in brown traveller's garb.
"I couldn't find it anywhere," the figure said, panting. "I'm sorry, Master."
Without waiting for a reply, the figure vanished again into the streets.
Khalid let out a frustrated breath and tapped the hilt of his sword. "I knew it wouldn't be easy," he whispered to himself, gaze sharp and calculating.
High above, cloaked in swirling clouds and silent wind, Vireth circled. The raven's eyes never left Khalid as he melted into the shadows once more.