"Our world lacks discipline, not equality or freedom."
A middle-aged man sat alone on a red throne at the top of the stairway, which was draped in a grand red-and-gold carpet. Beside him stood a young woman, poised but visibly tense.
"How long has it been, son, since I last saw you?" the man asked, his voice carrying the weight of years and buried memories.
"Kneeling before him, Arvard replied, "7winters, Father."
"seven, huh..." the man echoed, his tone unreadable. "Arise."
Arvard stood, though his gaze remained lowered. The woman next to the throne shifted uncomfortably, her unease growing.
"You may go," the man said to her with a dismissive gesture. "No need for others to watch a family reunion."
At his words, the woman rushed down the stairs and embraced Arvard tightly.
"Hi... Mum," Arvard said stiffly.
She pulled back and gently held his chin. "I'm so glad you've returned, son."
"I missed you both too," Arvard replied, forcing a smile that quickly faded. He noticed her expression and asked, "What's wrong?"
"You should rest first, my son," she said, clearly trying to hide the worry etched on her face.
"Tell me," Arvard insisted.
The king cleared his throat—an unspoken command.
She obeyed and began, her voice trembling. "Arvard... your sister... she's cursed. We don't know who did it or how it happened. She's... thirsty."
Arvard reached out and touched his mother's hand. "I understand."
Tears welled in her eyes as she rested her head on his shoulder. "Please save her… Even if she's your half-sister… please, Arvard."
"Krista, enough," the king ordered. She pulled away reluctantly.
"Return to your room," Arvard said gently.
Still crying, she ran toward a large door at the edge of the hall. From that door entered a teenage boy with short silver hair and piercing, tiger-yellow eyes.
"Leofric, come here," Arvard said.
The boy's eyes widened in disbelief. "You remember me?"
"I met you when you were two. Now you're what—sixteen?" Arvard gave a small, amused smile.
"Yes, big brother," Leofric answered, excitement in his voice.
"Truce!" Arvard called out suddenly.
A man in his thirties, with deep scars across his right eye and lip, entered. It was Gelhard Truce, Arvard's long-time human companion.
"You're still alive, Gelhard?" the king chuckled.
Gelhard knelt before him. "Your Majesty."
"Stand, human," Luther said. "Come closer."
Gelhard hesitated, but Arvard nodded in encouragement. As he ascended the royal steps—an act forbidden to humans—Luther took his hand and kissed it.
"If only more of your kind understood as you do," the king said. "You've journeyed beside my son through unimaginable trials. These scars are proof."
Leofric looked confused and disgusted at the gesture of respect toward a human.
"Is there anything you desire?" Luther asked.
"I've seen the world, made friends with a mermaid, and experienced wonders—all thanks to your son," Gelhard said, eyes moist with emotion. "I want for nothing more."
"You are a rare man. I won't forget you," Luther replied, releasing his hand.
As Gelhard stepped back, Arvard smirked. "You can come out now."
With a swirl of emerald light, Cordilia emerged from his ring, kneeling before the king in a flowing green dress.
"What in hell's name is this, Arvard?" Luther barked, astonished.
"I'm a mermaid, F… Your Majesty," Cordilia said calmly. Arvard noticed she had nearly called him "Father," which irritated him.
Luther descended the stairs in disbelief. "How did you capture her?"
"I didn't," Arvard began, but Cordilia interjected.
"Love," she said.
"No. A curse," Arvard corrected, deadpan.
"May I touch her?" Luther asked.
"Of course, Father. You may touch her wherever you like," Arvard said with dry sarcasm.
Cordilia gave him a worried look, but remained still as Luther touched her silky orange hair, then her smooth cheek.
"You're more beautiful than the books described your kind," Luther murmured.
"Thank you," she replied. "Your touch is like Arvard's."
"Can I touch her too, big brother?" Leofric asked.
Arvard, forgetting he was still there, gave a tired nod. "Go ahead."
Afterward, Luther muttered, "To think my brother was killed by your kind."
"I'm deeply sorry," Cordilia said, voice soft.
Arvard suddenly turned to Leofric. "Take me to your sister."
"Okay, big brother," Leofric said, eager to obey.
As they left, Cordilia whispered, "Wait," and vanished into Arvard's ring like a gust of wind.
"Gelhard can answer your questions, Father," Arvard said before exiting.
"Why is the castle so empty?" Arvard asked as they ascended the stairs.
"It's Rustilia. Ever since she turned... into that thing, everyone left."
"What about the servants?"
"They were sent to Koneal."
"And Victoria?"
Before Leofric could answer, a soft voice interrupted.
"Did the young master miss me?"
They turned to see a woman with long black hair and pink eyes. Arvard smiled.
"You dare interrupt?" Leofric scolded her.
Without hesitation, Arvard struck Leofric's neck lightly. "Don't speak to her like that. Leave us. She'll take me the rest of the way."
"My apologies," Leofric muttered and left.
Victoria stepped forward, eyes glistening. "May I?"
"Of course, ma," Arvard said warmly.
She ran to him and embraced him tightly, crying. "May I?" she asked again.
"Yes," he whispered, hugging her back.
She kissed his cheeks, tears falling freely. "Everything's fallen on us now, with the servants gone. But enough of that. Why did it take you so long to return?"
"I came as soon as I could. Take me to her. Tell me what happened."
Victoria composed herself and led him upstairs, speaking as they walked.
"Six years ago, the queen gave birth to a girl—with silver eyes like the second King Ampher. On her fifth birthday, it began. Her thirst wouldn't fade, even after devouring a human a day. She attacked a servant, devoured her, and still wanted more. The king locked her away. Scholars say she's cursed."
They reached a sealed door.
"I'll handle it from here," Arvard said.
Victoria bowed and left. Alone, Arvard whispered to Cordilia, "Don't you dare come out. No matter what happens."
He unchained the door and opened it.
The scent of blood hit him instantly.
A small girl leapt at him. He caught her by the throat mid-air, and she clawed at his arms. He stepped forward and hurled her against the wall—cracking it. Then he slammed her again. She was bleeding, but already soaked in dried blood. Her long hair was stained red, with only streaks of silver left.
"Victoria!" he shouted, dragging the unconscious girl out.
She came running. "Dear gods, what happened?!"
"Bring a tub, brushes, clean clothes, apples, a knife, and one living human. To the rear garden. Now."
She nodded and ran.
As Arvard walked downstairs with the girl in his arms, he passed his father still speaking to Gelhard.
"Father," he said.
Luther turned, eyes narrowing. "What are you doing?"
"I'm taking her to the garden. Restrict access. No one follows—not even you."
Picking up his travel bag, Arvard walked toward the rear garden, determined to confront the darkness in his sister.