[Imperial Encampment — Council Tent — Later]

The council tent stood more quietly than the rest of the imperial encampment. No knights speaking loudly and no servants entering carelessly.

Only low blue flames burned around the bronze lanterns while ancient maps of Zahryssar rested across the central table.

And inside, Raviel and Zyvera sat unusually silent, with no arguing and no dramatic complaints. Which somehow made the atmosphere feel stranger. Then the tent curtains opened, and Levin entered quietly. Immediately, both siblings stood, bowing deeply.

"We greet the Mother of the Empire."

Levin nodded once before walking toward the central table, and then he sat calmly. Silver-blue robes spreading softly beneath dim lantern light. For several moments nobody spoke.

Then finally Levin looked toward them directly as his blue gaze narrowed slightly. "You claimed there was something important enough to request privacy... What is it?"

The siblings exchanged glances immediately afterward, not nervous but careful. Then slowly Raviel reached inside his robes and placed something upon the council table.

CLINK.

A necklace, a beautiful necklace. Made from pale gold and ancient serpent-crafted silver, at its center rested a massive pink diamond glowing softly beneath the lantern flames.

The moment it touched the table, the atmosphere inside the tent subtly changed because the jewel carried history.

Levin silently stared at it longer than expected because something about it felt familiar, ancient, and royal.

Then finally he lifted his gaze toward Raviel. "...is this why you traveled across Eastern Zahryssar? To gift me jewelry?"

Immediately Zyvera looked at him, saying. "This is not ordinary jewelry."

Raviel immediately pinched her arm under the table. "OW—!"

"Allow ME to speak properly for once," he whispered furiously.

"You speak as if I commit crimes every time I open my mouth."

"You absolutely do."

Levin quietly watched both siblings argue, and somehow after everything happening recently, their nonsense felt oddly peaceful.

Then finally Raviel cleared his throat dramatically, straightened himself, and looked directly toward Levin, and his expression turned serious again.

"...this necklace is not ordinary, Malika. This necklace once belonged to...Malika Ninsara."

Silence crashed across the council tent instantly.

Levin’s blue eyes slowly narrowed. After all, that is the name no one in Zahryssar will ever forget.

Malika Ninsara. One of the oldest mothers of the empire is recorded within imperial history. A woman was worshipped almost like a saint among the temple archives.

And immediately Levin understood something was deeply wrong. "...that necklace should not exist outside the imperial treasury."

Raviel slowly nodded. "Yes."

The pink diamond flickered softly beneath the lantern flames.

"Which means..." Levin’s voice lowered. "...someone stole it."

Neither sibling answered immediately, and somehow their silence itself became confirmation. Then slowly Raviel leaned slightly forward. His voice is dropping lower, dangerously lower.

"Malika...that is not the most troubling part."

Levin’s expression hardened subtly. "What do you mean?"

Immediately, Zyvera glanced carefully toward the tent entrance. Making certain no guards stood close enough to overhear. Then quietly, almost conspiratorially, she whispered, "This necklace was sold...at the western underground auctions."

Silence.

Levin’s blue eyes narrowed immediately because Western auctions were infamous across Zahryssar. Not markets, not legal trade halls. But black-market gatherings were forbidden where relics, cursed artifacts, stolen treasures, and sometimes even living creatures were sold beneath hidden noble houses.

Then suddenly Zyvera proudly puffed her chest, completely ruining the tension, and a smug smile spread across her face.

"But...it was ME who stole this valuable necklace and reclaimed Malika Ninsara’s treasure."

Levin blinked once. Meanwhile, Raviel immediately pinched the bridge of his nose, deeply exhausted. "You truly do not need to sound proud while confessing crimes before the Malika."

"I am not confessing crimes," Zyvera looked offended. "I am confessing talent."

"That statement is not helping."

Levin silently watched both siblings for several moments, and honestly, after witchcraft, resurrected emperors, corrupted monsters, and imperial conspiracies, their nonsense barely affected him anymore.

Instead, his gaze slowly returned toward the necklace. "...it looks ordinary. Why would someone steal this specifically?"

The pink diamond flickered faintly beneath the lantern light, almost alive.

"And more importantly..." Levin’s gaze darkened slightly. "...why did it suddenly appear now?"

Neither sibling answered immediately because, clearly, they had been asking themselves the same question.

Then Levin finally sighed softly. "I shall discuss this matter with Malik Zeramet."

And naturally he reached toward the necklace, but immediately Raviel placed his hand over it first.

SMACK.

Then smiled brightly like the most shameless con artist in Eastern Zahryssar. "Hahaha... I apologize, Malika."

Levin slowly looked up, expression flat. "...what are you doing?"

Raviel coughed awkwardly, still keeping his hand over the necklace protectively. "You cannot take it."

Then Levin stared at him in complete disbelief. "What? This is imperial treasure. It belongs within Silthara Palace."

"I absolutely agree, Malika." Zyvera nodded seriously, then immediately ruined everything again as she crossed her arms proudly. "However...it was stolen centuries ago. And WE found it."

Raviel added quickly. "So technically...it belongs to us right now."

Levin slowly rubbed his forehead, clearly developing exhaustion. "You two are openly negotiating with the imperial family."

"Yes."

"Before the Malika."

"...yes."

"In the imperial council tent."

Raviel smiled weakly. "When you repeat it like that...it sounds dangerous."

"It IS dangerous."

Zyvera immediately whispered toward Raviel, "I told you we might die today."

Levin exhaled deeply afterward and then calmly said, "Very well."

Immediately, both siblings straightened, interested.

"You shall receive several gold pouches..." Levin spoke smoothly. "...alongside diamonds from the imperial treasury."

But before he could continue, Raviel slowly shook his head. "That is not what we desire, Malika."

Levin visibly paused as his blue eyes narrowed. "...then what exactly do you want?"

For once, both siblings fell completely serious, with no laughter and no dramatic complaints. Only careful silence. Then Raviel and Zyvera exchanged glances.

As though silently confirming something. Finally, Raviel spoke quietly and carefully. "We desire...a noble title and...a position beside the Malika."

Silence crashed across the council tent because, suddenly, this was no longer about a necklace, no longer about treasure, and no longer about gold.

This was ambition. Political ambition, and for the first time since meeting the siblings, Levin realized something important. These two were not merely thieves; they were survivors trying to climb inside the imperial family.

***

[Later — Afternoon — Imperial Encampment]

Afternoon sunlight spread across Eastern Zahryssar in dull gold. The imperial encampment had begun preparing for departure already.

Servants moved between tents. Imperial knights secured supplies. Mage circles extinguished one by one beneath the desert winds.

And near the center of the encampment inside the imperial command pavilion, Zeramet stood near the war table silently. Silver robes are dark beneath afternoon shadows, and golden eyes are unreadable.

Then the pavilion curtains opened, and immediately three figures entered together.

Captain Varesh, Raevahn, and Arkhazunn. All three bowed deeply at once. "We greet the malik."

Zeramet glanced toward them briefly, then calmly asked, "What of Sah’qir village?"

Varesh immediately answered. "The corruption has been fully cleansed, Malik."

Arkhazunn stepped forward afterward. "The healing barriers shall remain active for several weeks. The ration caravans have already been dispatched."

Raevahn added quietly: "The surviving villagers are being relocated toward safer settlements."

Zeramet nodded once slowly as his voice remained calm, cold, and controlled. "Good. Prepare the imperial departure."

All three immediately bowed again. "As Malik commands."

And just as Varesh turned, a familiar voice echoed from the entrance, soft, elegant, and beautifully dangerous. "...are we finally leaving Eastern Zahryssar?"

Silence, an absolute silence. Every serpent inside the pavilion froze instantly; then slowly they turned, and standing beneath fluttering imperial curtains was Slyvarakh.

Alive, smiling, and breathing.

Varesh’s eyes widened immediately. "...Malik...slyvarakh."

Raevahn visibly stepped backward, disbelief completely overtaking his expression. Even Arkhazunn—the High Mage of Zahryssar—froze in complete silence because years ago all three of them had witnessed his funeral pyre themselves.

Yet now the dead crown prince stood before them, smiling casually in afternoon sunlight. As though death itself had failed to keep him.

Meanwhile, Slyvarakh calmly looked between them. His silver eyes gleamed with amusement. Then softly he smiled wider as a quiet chuckle escaped him.

"Oh...long time no see."

The atmosphere inside the pavilion instantly became suffocating because his voice remained exactly the same. The same elegant tone, the same terrifying calmness, and somehow that familiarity made the resurrection even worse.

Varesh’s breathing visibly tightened. "...How come he is..."

The words escaped instinctively and automatically like an old memory. Immediately afterward, all three instinctively lowered themselves halfway, not fully, not properly, but enough to reveal hesitation.

Ancient habit and an ancient loyalty, and the moment they did, silence crashed violently across the pavilion because everyone realized what had just happened.

Their bodies remembered Slyvarakh before their minds could reject him. Meanwhile, Zeramet stood completely still, watching and silent.

Golden eyes unreadable. Then suddenly Varesh visibly stiffened because reality finally returned.

Slyvarakh was not emperor...never emperor.

Only acting emperor. And standing before them now was the true Malik of Zahryssar. Immediately Varesh lowered himself completely toward Zeramet instead.

"We apologize, Malik."

Raevahn and Arkhazunn immediately followed. This time fully, without hesitation, but even then, the atmosphere remained deeply tense.

Because everyone understood the truth now. The empire itself still remembered Slyvarakh. Meanwhile, Slyvarakh quietly watched the entire scene and smiled in amusement.

Then slowly he stepped further into the pavilion. The black-and-silver scales near his throat were shifting faintly beneath the lantern light.

Rotten, cracked, and unnatural.

Meanwhile, Zeramet remained completely expressionless, golden eyes cold and unmoving. Then finally the emperor spoke.

"Prepare for departure." Silence lingered briefly afterward. Then Zeramet added: "We shall not delay further."

Immediately Varesh, Raevahn, and Arkhazunn bowed deeply again.

"As Malik commands."

And one by one they began leaving the pavilion. Though each of them glanced toward Slyvarakh at least once while passing, not openly, not boldly, but instinctively because no matter how much they denied it, the empire still remembered him.

Meanwhile Slyvarakh quietly watched everything unfold, and slowly...very slowly a smile spread across his face because, unlike everyone else inside the pavilion, he was not tense. His silver eyes drifted toward the pavilion entrance.

Toward the imperial road stretching westward, toward Silthara and the heart of Zahryssar. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

And somewhere deep inside his thoughts something dark began stirring, something ancient and something wicked.

’The journey toward Silthara...is going to become truly entertaining.’

The corrupted scales near his throat cracked further, and for one horrifying moment the lantern flames around the pavilion dimmed. As though the darkness inside Slyvarakh itself had briefly awakened.

Meanwhile outside across the imperial encampment, the departure preparations continued normally.

Knights securing weapons. Servants loading carriages. Imperial banners rising beneath desert winds. Yet none of them realized the true danger traveling toward Silthara was not corrupted beasts, hidden enemies, or political conspiracies.

It was the silver-eyed serpent smiling quietly inside the pavilion. The prince who returned from death. The acting emperor once ruled Zahryssar like sunlight.

And the monster is now planning something far more terrifying than war because Slyvarakh did not merely want the throne anymore.

No.

He wanted the empire, the crown, the history, and perhaps worst of all, the person standing beside Zeramet.