[Silthara Palace — Malika’s Chamber — Continuation]

The palace corridor became suffocatingly silent; no one moved, and no one dared breathe too loudly. Because standing beneath the lantern light, Levin had just reminded the empire the throne still belonged to Zeramet.

Meanwhile, the priests and red knights remained kneeling across the marble floor, terrified and shaking because none of them had expected the grieving consort to issue punishment so coldly and so imperially.

And before them Captain Varesh slowly stepped forward, one hand already resting upon his sword.

"As the Malika commands."

Immediately panic exploded among the priests.

"M-Malika please—!"

"We only obeyed orders—!"

"Mercy—!"

But Levin did not even look at them anymore; his blue eyes remained fixed entirely upon Slyvarakh, cold, sharp, and unmoving.

And for several seconds, neither serpent spoke. The palace corridor itself seemed afraid to breathe. Then slowly Slyvarakh’s silver eyes darkened, The false warmth disappeared from them completely.

Leaving behind only something ancient and something venomous.

"You must not forget yourself, Malika Levin." His voice no longer sounded gentle. It sounded imperial...dangerously imperial. "After the death of my dearest little brother...the only valid prince remaining to inherit the throne is me."

Then his silver gaze slowly lowered toward Levin’s abdomen, lingering there deliberately and cruelly as his voice softened mockingly.

"And you...are merely a consort carrying the child of a dead emperor."

Immediately, Captain Raevahn’s fist clenched tightly enough for veins to appear. Beside him, Lady Arinaya’s eyes sharpened murderously.

Because everyone present understood Slyvarakh was insulting not only Levin but Zeramet’s unborn heir as well. Meanwhile, Slyvarakh stepped closer again, his silver robes dragging softly across the marble floors.

"It would be wiser..." His eyes gleamed dangerously. "...not to provoke me further, my soon-to-be bride."

A faint tilt of his head followed, almost affectionate and almost monstrous.

"It would deeply wound the feelings of your future husband."

For the first time Levin visibly flinched, only slightly and barely noticeably, but beneath Zeramet’s oversized robes his fingers twitched sharply.

Not from weakness but from disgust. Then slowly...very slowly...Levin lifted his chin, and when he spoke again, his voice carried the exact same cold authority Zeramet once used upon disobedient nobles.

"As I already stated...you have yet to claim the throne." Silence spread heavily afterward. "And the ’mere consort’ you speak of..."

Levin’s blue eyes sharpened further.

"...currently holds a rank far above yours."

Even the red knights behind Slyvarakh stiffened afterward because Levin was absolutely correct. After the Malik, the highest authority within Zahryssar belonged to...the Malika.

And right now Levin still possessed that position. Then calmly and beautifully cruel Levin continued:

"You seem to have forgotten imperial law, Prince Slyvarakh." His robes shifted softly beneath the palace winds like shadows moving around him, and his gaze remained unwavering.

"At this moment...I possess every legal right to arrest you."

The corridor froze completely.

"For entering another serpent’s consort chamber...without permission and without prior announcement."

Every word struck sharply, precisely, and mercilessly. Then finally Levin gave the order as his blue eyes locked directly onto Slyvarakh’s silver ones.

"So it would be best...if you leave this residence immediately, Prince Slyvarakh."

Silence.

Long, heavy, and deadly, for one terrifying second Slyvarakh truly looked like he wished to kill everyone standing there.

The corrupted scales near his throat shifted violently beneath his skin, rotting further and cracking. His silver eyes gleamed with something deeply monstrous.

Then suddenly he smiled. But this time? There was no gentleness left inside it. Only fury is hidden beneath royal elegance.

"You will pay dearly for this insolence..." His voice lowered softly and dangerously. "...in two nights, my dear Malika."

The threat echoed across the corridor like poison. Then sharply, Slyvarakh turned away, silver robes whipping behind him violently, and as he walked down the palace hallway, his jaw clenched hard enough for the veins near his throat to darken visibly.

Because for the very first time since returning to Zahryssar, someone had openly humiliated him inside the imperial palace itself.

And worse? That someone was the grieving consort of the brother he hated most.

Behind the veil, Levin silently watched Slyvarakh disappear down the corridor, and only after the silver-haired serpent had vanished completely.

And only then did the strength inside Levin finally collapse. His fingers trembled violently beneath Zeramet’s oversized robes, breathing suddenly uneven and cold.

Too cold.

Captain Raevahn immediately noticed.

"Malika—?"

But before anyone could move, Levin suddenly staggered backward. His hand immediately flew toward his abdomen protectively.

Panic flooded his face for the very first time because the moment Slyvarakh disappeared, everything he had been suppressing finally crashed down at once.

Zeramet’s fall, the throne, the threats, the child, the fear, and the unbearable loneliness.

And suddenly his vision blurred completely.

"Malika!" Lady Arinaya rushed forward instantly, but she was too late.

THUD!!!

Levin collapsed directly onto the marble floor. The veil slipping partly from his face, blue eyes unfocused, breathing unevenly. Immediately panic exploded throughout the corridor.

"CALL THE PHYSICIANS NOW!"

"Bring water!"

"Protect the Malika!"

Captain Raevahn caught Levin before his head struck the floor completely. Fear flashing openly across his usually calm expression.

"Malik—!"

But Levin could barely hear them anymore, and everything sounded distant, muffled, and broken. Then suddenly—

CLINK.

A tiny silver sound echoed softly across the marble floor because slowly from Levin’s ear the silver serpent marriage earring slipped free.

The imperial marriage symbol of Zahryssar. The symbol marking him as Zeramet’s bonded consort. The earring rolled silently across the marble floor.

Once, twice and then—

CRACK.

It shattered.

The silver serpent ornament broke completely against the marble. And the moment it shattered, the entire corridor fell deathly silent.

Because in Zahryssar, a broken marriage symbol was considered a catastrophic omen. An omen of separation, widowhood, or a bond destroyed by fate itself. Lady Arinaya’s eyes widened in horror. Captain Raevahn visibly froze. Even the attendants stepped backward fearfully because no one inside the palace wished to believe what they had just witnessed. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

And there, collapsed upon the cold marble floor, Levin weakly reached toward the broken silver pieces with trembling fingers. As though desperately trying to stop something from ending completely.

Then softly, barely audible, his broken voice whispered:

"...Zer..."

And everything became dark for Levin.

"Call the physician...hurry...." Lady Arinaya’s voice echoed.

***

[Silthara Palace — Slyvarakh’s Chamber — Same Night]

The moment Slyvarakh entered his chamber, the doors slammed shut behind him violently.

BOOOOOOMMMMM!!!

Silence followed immediately afterward, heavy, oppressive, and rotten. The chamber itself seemed alive beneath his fury. Lantern flames flickered violently.

The curtains shifted despite the absence of wind. And the corrupted black-and-silver scales near his throat cracked faintly beneath the skin.

Yet Slyvarakh did not destroy anything, did not scream, and did not throw the wine vessels across the chamber. Which somehow made him far more terrifying.

Slowly he cracked his neck once.

CRACK.

Then again.

CRRRACK.

And finally, his silver eyes darkened completely. "Summon Prince Sarash."

The knight outside immediately bowed. "Yes, Your Highness."

Then the footsteps rushed away. Slyvarakh calmly walked toward the lower imperial diwan near the chamber window. The moonlight falling across his silver robes only made him appear more monstrous.

More unnatural. Slowly he poured dark wine into a golden cup. The liquid reflected his silver eyes like blood beneath moonlight. Then, after several long moments, the chamber doors opened again carefully, and Sarash entered.

His posture remained obedient, but his hands...his hands trembled faintly because no one understood Slyvarakh’s cruelty better than Sarash himself.

The moment he stepped inside, he bowed deeply. "You summoned me...brother,"

"Close the doors."

Sarash visibly froze only for a second. Then silently he obeyed. The chamber doors locked heavily behind him.

CLACK.

And suddenly the room felt smaller, like a cage. Meanwhile, Slyvarakh lazily leaned against the diwan, one leg folded beneath him and the other stretched outward carelessly like an emperor resting before entertainment.

Then softly without even glancing toward Sarash, he ordered:

"Sit."

Sarash obeyed immediately, walking toward the lower diwan carefully, but just before he could sit, Slyvarakh spoke again.

"Do you believe you remain worthy of sitting beside me?"

Sarash froze instantly, his eyes lowered further, and without argument, he slowly knelt beside the diwan instead, like a servant and like a slave returning to an old chain.

Slyvarakh finally looked at him with amusement. "You still remember what you used to do for me, correct?"

Sarash did not lift his gaze. "Yes."

Slyvarakh sipped his wine afterward slowly. "Then why are you hesitating? Do it."

Sarash’s hands clenched once hard and painfully, but eventually he bent down obediently and placed his hands against Slyvarakh’s leg.

Massaging silently and mechanically like muscle memory carved through years of fear. Slyvarakh drank his wine, leisurely watching him and enjoying the obedience.

"Why did you not die?"

Sarash paused immediately, his hands stiffening slightly.

"I...I never intended to survive." But the words died there because even now he still feared speaking honestly before Slyvarakh.

The silver-eyed serpent merely chuckled softly. "You truly have not changed."

Then slowly he leaned back further against the cushions, eyes half-lidded and dangerous as he swirled wine inside the cup.

"I have always despised the idea...of a mere human consort standing above imperial blood." His silver gaze darkened afterward as a dangerous smile slowly spread across his lips. "And now...that Alpha human stands above me within the palace."

The air itself grew colder.

"And I hate it." Then softly he glanced downward toward Sarash. "What should I do, my dear brother?"

Sarash immediately bowed lower, almost desperately, as his voice shook faintly.

"Malika Levin still carries the imperial heir; he may deliver the egg within forty-five nights." Then quieter, almost pleading, he whispered, "I beg you...please spare him."

Slyvarakh stared silently at the kneeling prince, long enough for Sarash’s breathing to grow uneven. Then finally he chuckled again.

"Hmm...you are correct; that little human still carries my brother’s child." A dangerous pause followed. "And somehow...I find myself hating that fact more each passing moment."

Sarash’s expression paled instantly, and Slyvarakh smiled softly, almost reassuringly. "Oh, do not look so frightened. I will not harm the egg while it remains inside him."

Then suddenly his expression changed; something wicked surfaced beneath the elegance.

"...after all..." His fingers tightened around the wine cup. "...hurting Levin would damage him, and as you know, I hate damaging my precious things."

The chamber went silent again as the smile slowly vanished from his face.

"But...that does not mean I intend to let him continue humiliating me."

Sarash’s entire body stiffened because he recognized that look, that tone, and that terrifying calmness before violence.

Slyvarakh sighed softly.

"I can no longer tolerate this anger." Then slowly his silver gaze lowered toward Sarash again. "...I need somewhere to release it."

Sarash immediately went still, and suddenly memories returned.

Painful memories. Old punishments, old obedience, and old fear.

"So..." A soft tilt of the head. "...what should my sweet little brother do for me now?"

Sarash’s fists clenched violently against the floor but only for a moment. Then silently he stood and walked toward the nearby side drawer, opened it carefully, and from inside he removed a ceremonial lash.

Black leather, silver handle. Sarash returned and then knelt again, offering the lash with both hands lowered respectfully.

"Please release your anger upon me, brother."

Silence, heavy and disturbingly intimate. Then suddenly Slyvarakh laughed, low, beautiful, and monstrous, and took the lash from Sarash’s hands.

"Oh...it truly has been a very long time."

Then gracefully he stood from the diwan, silver robes sliding across the floor behind him. "You must have missed your elder brother terribly."

Sarash lowered his head further. "...yes."

Slyvarakh smiled wider afterward, and then he raised the lash as his silver eyes gleamed wickedly beneath the lantern light.

"Good, then let us revisit our beautiful memories together."

SLASHHHHHHHH!!!!

The sound cracked violently across the chamber, and somewhere deep inside Silthara Palace another form of cruelty quietly continued beneath the empire’s mourning.