[Border of Zahryssar — Night]

The rain had not stopped for three days.

It crashed endlessly across the deserts of Zahryssar, like the heavens themselves had descended into mourning. Far across the northern border, a massive black carriage moved violently through the storm.

The silver crest of House Veyrhold gleamed faintly beneath lightning flashes. The horses barely slowed despite the mud and brutal rainfall because inside the carriage sat Duke Aren Veyrhold.

And the northern duke looked afraid, and ahead, the gigantic serpent gates of Zahryssar slowly emerged through the storm.

Ancient and towering.

Guarded heavily by green serpent soldiers. The moment the carriage stopped several massive green serpents slithered downward from the walls immediately.

Then—

SWISSHHH!!!

They shifted into human forms beside the gates, hands resting upon curved serpent blades cautiously. But the moment they saw the Veyrhold crest, the northern royal carriage, and Duke Aren seated within, their expressions immediately changed.

The leading guard bowed deeply despite the heavy rain. "We greet the father of Malika."

Duke Aren did not waste a single second as his voice came out cold, sharp, and impatient. "Open the gates."

But strangely the guards hesitated, and immediately something dangerous darkened inside Duke Aren’s eyes.

Meanwhile, the lead guard lowered his gaze nervously as rainwater dripped heavily from his green hair.

"We...apologize, Duke, but we have received orders not to allow your entry into Zahryssar."

Silence.

Then Duke Aren slowly leaned forward inside the carriage, as though he had not heard correctly.

"...what?"

The guard visibly stiffened. "We are under direct orders from the Crown Prince."

Duke Aren’s expression darkened instantly. "Crown Prince?"

Lightning exploded violently across the skies.

BOOOOOOOOMMMMMMM!!!

And then the guard answered carefully, "Prince Slyvarakh. He shall ascend the throne after tomorrow night..."

A dangerous pause followed.

"...and become the next husband of the Malika."

Everything froze. Duke Aren’s eyes widened completely; for one horrifying second, he genuinely looked unable to process the words.

Then suddenly the carriage doors burst open violently.

SLAMMMMM!!!

Duke Aren stepped out directly into the storm, and rain instantly drenched his black cloak and silver armor completely, but he did not care.

"What did you just say?" His voice echoed dangerously beneath the thunder as he stepped closer toward the guards, his eyes burning furiously. "My son has barely lost his husband...he carries a child inside him...and now you serpents dare tell me he is already being prepared for another husband?!"

The guards visibly lowered their heads further. Unable to answer, Duke Aren’s breathing became uneven with fury.

"What exactly do you people think my son is?" His voice cracked sharply through the storm. "...property? Something to inherit besides a throne? Or something passed from one serpent king to another?"

No one answered him because no one could.

Then suddenly Duke Aren pointed toward the massive gates, and his command came colder this time and more dangerous.

"Open them or this matter will not end peacefully."

Immediately the guards bowed deeper again, almost desperately.

"Please do not force us, Duke. We are bound by royal orders. We do not wish to raise weapons against the father of the Malika."

"Then move."

But the guards did not, and for the very first time, fear truly surfaced inside Duke Aren’s eyes, not fear for himself...never that.

Fear for Levin because suddenly he realized something horrifying: Levin was trapped. Trapped inside an empire already preparing to hand him to another ruler.

Meanwhile, the storm continued roaring mercilessly around them, and then quietly, almost awkwardly, the lead guard spoke again:

"We understand your distress, Duke...but...Prince Slyvarakh is known to be a kind serpent. He would never harm the Malika."

Duke Aren slowly looked toward the guard afterward. And somehow that statement terrified him even more. Because a truly good emperor would never have forbidden Levin’s own father from entering the kingdom.

Nor would he rush toward another man’s grieving consort before the funeral rites had even ended and Duke Aren understood that immediately. But unlike lesser nobles, he did not scream further.

Did not throw empty threats and did not lose control. Slowly...very slowly, he stepped back toward the carriage again. Rainwater dripping endlessly from his hair.

Then he entered the carriage silently, the doors closing heavily behind him.

CLACK.

And inside the dark carriage, Duke Aren finally lowered his head into one hand, and for the first time since hearing Zeramet’s death, his calmness cracked slightly.

Because now he no longer feared only grief, he feared Zahryssar itself. Then quietly, almost like a vow whispered into the storm, he murmured.

"...I must find a way to save my son."

And outside, the gates of Zahryssar remained closed beneath the endless rain, like the empire itself had already begun swallowing Levin whole.

***

[The Next Day — Malika’s Private Residence — Morning]

The storm had worsened. Rain crashed mercilessly across Silthara Palace while violent winds shook the black mourning banners hanging from the towers of Zahryssar. But even the heavens themselves could not match the storm raging inside Levin.

Inside the dim imperial chamber, Levin stood silently before the bronze mirror once again, still and motionless like a soul abandoned halfway between life and grief.

One trembling hand rested protectively over his swollen abdomen. The other held the shattered silver serpent earrings.

Their marriage symbol, broken and cracked, is yet still precious enough for him to wear.

Meanwhile, behind him, Lady Arinaya stood silently holding the black mourning veil, watching Levin carefully and worriedly because the silence surrounding him today felt terrifying.

Then finally, Arinaya spoke softly, "...Malika."

No response.

"We might be late for the rites."

Still Levin did not move, did not blink, and did not answer. He only stared at his own reflection, dead-blue eyes staring back at him. Eyes belonging to someone who had cried too much to cry anymore.

Then slowly...very slowly, Levin raised the broken earrings toward his ears, and despite his trembling hands and broken symbol of their marriage, he wore them again. Because even shattered, they still belonged to Zeramet, and Levin could not let go of that.

Not yet.

Perhaps never, and then Lady Arinaya stepped closer afterward. Carefully placing the black mourning veil over Levin’s hair, covering half his face with dark silk. Then quietly she whispered.

"Forgive me for touching you carelessly, Malika, and...forgive me for—"

She could finish, and Levin did not answer because neither of them knew what exactly needed to be forgiven. Then suddenly, without another word, Levin turned and walked toward the chamber doors, still barefoot.

As though somewhere inside he had completely stopped caring about himself. The doors opened slowly.

CREAKKKK.

Immediately, the attendants outside straightened nervously. Varesh and Raevahn silently lowered their heads, but before Levin could continue walking, one young attendant suddenly rushed forward, holding silk slippers desperately.

"Malika—! You forgot your shoes—"

But Levin never stopped walking, not even once. As though he no longer heard the world around him and as though all sound had become distant ever since Zeramet disappeared.

The attendants froze afterward, watching him walk barefoot across the cold palace floors, wrapped entirely in mourning black.

And behind him, the captains followed silently, neither daring to speak nor knowing how to comfort someone already drowned in grief.

And near the chamber entrance Lady Arinaya remained standing alone for several moments, watching the storm outside and watching the black skies above Zahryssar.

Then softly, almost painfully, she whispered, "Why must Lord Urzan test the Malika this cruelly...?"

And far ahead Levin continued walking toward the imperial graveyard.

Step.

After step.

After step.

The rain drenched his robes completely. The black veil clung to his face, yet he continued forward silently like a spirit walking toward its own burial, and the moment he stepped into the graveyard, his bare feet sank directly into cold mud.

SPLASH.

The black mourning robes stained instantly, mud splashing against pale skin and against the robe, and nearby, standing beneath the ceremonial canopy, Slyvarakh watched the scene silently.

Then slowly he smiled because to him, Levin no longer looked like royalty; he looked devastated, broken, and lonely. And somehow that only made him more beautiful in Slyvarakh’s eyes.

"...how breathtaking..." he murmured softly beneath the rain. "The most beautiful alpha human I have ever seen."

Behind him Sarash heard every word, and immediately something painful tightened inside his chest, but he remained silent because silence had long ago become the only thing survival allowed him.

Levin slowly approached the empty imperial coffin placed at the center of the graveyard. Rainwater dripping endlessly from his veil, his trembling hand resting over his stomach protectively, as the funeral priests finally began chanting the mourning rites, the storm above Zahryssar only grew darker.

Because somewhere beneath the earth, the emperor being mourned had not yet finished returning, and somewhere above, his grieving consort was already being watched like prey by the serpent waiting to inherit everything he left behind.

***

[Malika’s Private Courtyard — Later]

The storm had not softened. If anything, the skies above Silthara looked even darker now.

Rainwater poured endlessly across the black marble courtyards while cold winds bent the dead flowers scattered beneath the palace arches.

Levin sat silently upon the lower diwan beneath the open pavilion, still wrapped entirely in black mourning robes, still barefoot, and still wearing the broken silver serpent earrings.

The rain reflected inside his blue eyes, dead and empty like someone slowly disappearing from within.

Meanwhile, behind him, Raevahn, Varesh, and Lady Arinaya remained standing silently. Then suddenly Levin finally broke the silence.

"...where are Asha and Lyresaph?"

The question sounded quiet and soft. Yet somehow it immediately tightened the atmosphere. Raevahn and Lady Arinaya exchanged glances silently. And Captain Varesh slowly stepped forward before bowing deeply.

"They have been confined within the imperial beast cages, Malika."

Silence.

Levin did not react immediately, did not grow angry, and did not question the cruelty. He simply stared at the rainstorm ahead, at the dead flowers drowning beneath the water.

Then quietly, almost absentmindedly, he murmured, "...I see."

And somehow that quiet acceptance hurt everyone present more than rage ever could. Because it sounded like Levin no longer possessed the strength to fight anything anymore.

***

[Outside the Borders of Zahryssar — Same Time]

Far from the palace, the black carriage of Duke Aren Veyrhold continued moving through the storm-covered desert roads.

The northern duke remained silent inside, but his clenched fist revealed everything: worry, fear, and helplessness. Because somewhere inside Zahryssar his son was trapped, and Duke Aren still had no way to save him.

Then suddenly the carriage stopped violently. The duke immediately frowned. "...why have we stopped?" 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

Outside, one of the northern knights bowed beside the carriage window. Rainwater dripping from silver armor heavily.

"My lord... There are two figures standing before the road."

Duke Aren’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Bandits?"

"We cannot determine whether they are human...or serpents."

Immediately, Duke Aren pushed the carriage doors open, and the storm winds struck him violently the moment he stepped outside.

And there standing directly before the blocked road were two figures mounted upon dark horses.

One male and one female. Both smiled far too casually despite the storm, and the Northern Knights instantly unsheathed their swords.

SHIIIIING!!!

Then the male rider slowly stepped down from his horse, his long hair dampened by rain and a playful smirk resting upon his face.

It was Raviel.

And beside him, Zyvera quietly observed the northern soldiers carefully. Then Raviel tilted his head slightly before asking, "...Are you the father of Malika?"

Immediately the northern knights pointed their swords closer toward him, and Duke Aren’s gaze sharpened dangerously as his voice lowered, coldly.

"And who exactly are you...to possess the audacity to block my path and question me?"

For several moments the storm answered instead. Rain crashing heavily between them. Then suddenly Raviel smiled wider and beautifully and suspiciously.

"Someone...who might prove useful to you."

Silence.

Immediately Duke Aren’s expression darkened further because help offered in Zahryssar during political chaos almost always carried poison beneath it, and something dangerously unfamiliar surfaced within the storm.

Possibility.

Because somewhere beneath the endless rain of Zahryssar, alliances had quietly begun forming against the empire itself and to save the mother of the empire.