The system had been quiet for days.
Aria no longer bothered looking at it. Every attempt ended the same way—with cold rejection.
"Request denied, GF."
She had stopped trying.
Now, the day had come. The day she would leave for Ashkalon.
Everything had been prepared. Aria stood tall in her formal uniform, the sigil of the North stitched proudly on her chest. She wasn't going as a guest—she was going on a mission.
To uncover the truth.
Before the grand hall, everyone had gathered. Final preparations were being made.
"Don't worry too much," Theo said quietly, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
Her eyes instinctively searched the crowd—and found Abigel standing silently behind Theo. They didn't speak. They didn't need to. The way his dark aura stilled when her gaze touched him was enough.
As she stepped forward, the White Knights assembled before the mansion gates. They stood in glimmering rows, their armour pristine, their presence formidable.
"Oh? I didn't know the White Knights were coming with us," Aria said, slightly surprised.
"I requested support," Theo replied calmly.
The crowd suddenly shifted—dividing into two lines, creating a path down the center. Two figures stepped forward, distinct from the others. Their shoulders bore special rank insignias—a red mark indicating a special command.
Aria's breath caught when she saw the green eyes beneath the helm.
"...Uncle Liam?" she whispered.
The figure removed his helmet with a familiar smile. "You found me out."
"I wanted to surprise you," he added, grinning.
"You're coming with me?" Aria asked, stunned.
"Of course I am. Do you think I'd let you go alone?"
Before she could respond, another voice echoed behind them.
"Who said it's only the Crown Prince?"
Another helmet came off.
It was Crown Princess Sylphira. A smirk tugged at her lips.
"I'm coming too," she said.
"But…" Aria stared, speechless.
"As the daughter of Duke Kaleem, I know Ashkalon better than anyone," Sylphira added smoothly. "I'll be a much better guide than any knight."
Aria sighed, unsure whether to laugh or cry. "Is there anyone else hiding in armour?"
"No one knows we're coming," Liam said, winking. "Let's give them the surprise this time. They're not the only ones who can play that game."
And just like that, the journey began.
Meanwhile, in the South Duchy—
Selene walked down the long, silent corridor toward the end of the hall. With every step, the maids bowed deeply and stepped aside, their gazes lowered, their movements reverent and swift.
"They left this morning," Kaelen informed her quietly, waiting at the end.
"Good," Selene replied, her voice cold and composed.
Without another word, she reached the final stone wall and pressed a concealed brick.
A faint click.
A hidden door creaked open, revealing a narrow stairway descending into the earth. The torches flickered to life as they stepped inside, revealing the grim shadows of the South Duchy's secret dungeon.
There, chained to the cold stone wall, was a man—beaten so brutally he seemed to exist only by fragments of a dying soul. Blood stained the ground beneath him. His breathing was shallow. Bones jutted unnaturally beneath torn flesh.
Kaelen exhaled. A trace of pity flashed in his eyes—but it faded quickly.
"Who do you work for?" Selene asked, her voice a razor's edge.
"I… I don't know," the man choked out, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth.
Crack.
Sir Tristain, commander of the Southern Knights, delivered a harsh blow to the man's shoulder. The crunch of bone echoed through the stone chamber, followed by a tortured scream.
"I never saw his face—he always wore a mask!" the prisoner cried. "He was looking… for a silver sword…"
"Silver sword?" Kaelen echoed, frowning. "Why would he want that?"
"I… I don't know… He ordered me to find it. Said it was hidden somewhere in the duchy. But I… I couldn't find it anywhere…"
Selene's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Keep him alive," she said sharply. "We need to know who he is and why he wants the Silver Sword."
"Yes, Your Highness," Tristain responded, bowing as he signaled the guards.
As they stepped out of the dungeon and back into the torch-lit hallway, Selene's hands curled into fists at her sides.
Why now? After all this time…
"Selene," Kaelen said quietly beside her, "I think we should inform Theodore."
"Yes," she replied. "I'll write to him tonight."
Her fingers moved instinctively toward her chest, brushing over the hidden locket beneath her dress.
A long-silent, painful memory stirred.
"Selene," Kaelen whispered—and pulled her gently into his arms, wrapping her in a quiet, grounding embrace.
For a moment, the Duchess did not resist.
She simply closed her eyes, breathing in the calm he offered.
A MEMORY : FEW YEARS AGO
The war at the border had raged for years, a bitter and bloody stalemate. Night after night, Selene led her forces through smoke and ash, the gleam of her Silver Sword cutting through madness. She was young but feared. Respected. Dangerous.
Beside her stood Ashen , her childhood friend and most trusted commander. Her right hand in battle. Kaelen's older brother.
Where Selene went, Ashen followed—until the night the world shifted.
The news came like a dagger:
Lioan—her fiancé, bound to her in a political alliance—had vanished. Without a word. He'd abandoned the front and returned to Ashkalon.
It was betrayal.
And it came at the worst time.
That night, under the cloak of darkness, the enemy attacked.
They had found the weakened lines. The missing soldiers. The gaps Lioan's retreat had created. They struck the camp like wolves.
Chaos reigned.
They were outnumbered, exhausted, and cornered.
Ashen grabbed Selene's arm as they tried to regroup.
"Selene, go back!" he shouted over the clashing of steel.
"I can't!" she yelled, eyes wild, hair soaked in blood and sweat. "I'm not a coward like him!"
She gripped the Silver Sword tighter. Its cursed power drained her with every breath she took, her limbs heavy, her vision blurring.
She didn't see the enemy behind her.
But Ashen did.
In a heartbeat, he shoved her aside.
By the time she turned, the blade had already pierced him.
"Ashen!" Selene screamed.
With a surge of fury, she swung the silver blade, cutting down the attacker. Blood sprayed as she dragged Ashen toward a half-collapsed medical tent, collapsing beside him.
"Why?" she cried, pressing her hands against his wound.
Ashen gave a weak smile.
"Lets … finish this… so we can go back."
His hand was cold.
She wasn't ready. Selene was pulled back to the battlefield. Forced to leave him, just for a moment. Just to finish what he started.
By the time she returned…
He was gone.
Hours Later
The air was still. The blood no longer steaming.
Kaelen walked into the ruins of the camp.
He found his brother's lifeless body laid gently under a torn cloak.
He didn't cry.
"What about Lioan?" he asked.
Selene didn't answer at first.
"He left," she said at last. "Right before the ambush. Took the northern route back to Ashkalon. Said he was needed at court."
Kaelen's jaw clenched.
"But we both know the truth," Selene whispered. "He was afraid. Jealous. He couldn't bear that I commanded the army, that the soldiers followed me, not him. That Ashen… was always at my side."
Kaelen looked away.
"He was my fiancé," she said bitterly. "And he left me to die."
Silence settled between them. He just knelt, gathering Ashen into his arms.
Selene stood behind him, broken, hollow.
The Silver Sword lay discarded in the mud, still humming softly—like it had tasted something irreplaceable.