˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚
The atmosphere in the Northern Palace had reached a state of agonizing fragility. The disappearance of Celine had already fractured the family's peace, but the internal collapse of the twins was proving to be a different kind of tragedy.
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In the library, the silence was no longer peaceful; it was heavy with the scent of unsaid words and mounting dread. Calix sat on the edge of his chair, his fingers trembling as they twisted the hem of his tunic. He looked at Kenzo, who was vibrating with a tension so thick it felt like the air might shatter.
"Kenzo..." Calix's voice was small, breaking the quiet like a glass shard. "Do you... do you hate me now? Is it because I'm a chimera? Is it because I shift? Do you think I'm weird?"
Kenzo didn't look up. He couldn't. If he looked at Calix, he would see the pulse fluttering in that delicate neck, and his fangs—already throbbing and extended—would ache even more. A low, involuntary growl vibrated in his throat, a sound of pure, frustrated instinct that he couldn't suppress.
As Calix's eyes filled with tears, Kenzo felt a sudden, sharp tightening in his pants—a biological surge he was too young to master but old enough to be shamed by. He stood up abruptly, the chair screeching against the floor. Without a single word of reassurance, he turned and bolted from the room, leaving Calix sitting in the shadows.
For Calix, it was the greatest heartbreak of his ten years. He slumped into the chair, the weight of his own skin feeling like a cage. I am weird, he thought, his silver hair falling over his face. I'm a freak, and even my twin can't stand to look at me.
In the bathroom, Kenzo was a disaster. He splashed freezing water on his face, staring at his reflection with wide, horrified eyes. His fangs wouldn't retract, and his body wouldn't calm down.
"Get back in," he hissed at his own reflection, pushing against his gums until they bled. He stayed there for hours, terrified of himself, while in the next room, Calix began to accept the cold reality that he was meant to be alone.
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At the Western border, the game of hide-and-seek finally came to an end. Kyon's patience had evaporated, and his mana finally pierced through Lowell's transparency spell like a hot needle through silk.
The cave was exposed. Celine saw her father and Arion standing on the ridge, their expressions a mix of murderous rage and soul-deep relief. For a second, the fear of men that had haunted her since the cellar vanished at the sight of her parents. She took a step toward them, but Lowell reached out, catching her hand.
Lowell didn't look like a fugitive Prince anymore. He looked like a boy who had found something he wasn't ready to lose. He leaned down and kissed the back of Celine's hand with a surprising, gentle reverence.
"I know who you are, Celine eilish," Lowell whispered, his illusion flickering to reveal his true thirteen-year-old face for a split second. "Neveah was a pretty lie, but you were born to be a Queen. Don't forget the Western mountains."
Celine blushed a deep, furious crimson, her heart fluttering in a way that had nothing to do with fear. She didn't answer; she simply turned and ran, throwing herself into Arion's arms. Kyon stepped forward, his eyes fixed on Lowell with a promise of death, but the boy had already vanished into the mist of the high peaks. Celine was safe, but the Ice Dragon was now a secret shared with a runaway Prince.
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In the South, the air was saturated with the heavy, cloying scent of Lorcan's full-blown Omega heat. He had intentionally refused his suppressants, driven by a desperate, alcohol-fueled need to force Aiden to claim him. He threw himself at Aiden, his pheromones a sweet, dizzying cloud of strawberries that would have brought any other Alpha to his knees.
Aiden felt the pull. His blood was heating up fast, and for a moment, his hand moved toward Lorcan's waist with a dark, possessive intent. He was inches away from crossing a line that would have changed their lives forever.
But then, a memory flickered in his mind: Arion.
He remembered the cold, disappointed look in his papa's eyes during their training sessions. He remembered the "discipline" Arion meted out—the psychological weight of failing the man he feared and respected most. Aiden realized that if he did this—if he took advantage of Lorcan in this state—he would have to answer to Arion. And Aiden, for all his bravado, feared Arion more than death itself.
"No," Aiden grunted, his voice a rasp. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a high-concentrate suppressant. With a swift, practiced motion, he injected it directly into Lorcan's neck.
Lorcan gasped, his body going limp as the cooling chemicals flooded his system. Aiden held him until the shivering stopped, his jaw set in a hard line. He was his father's son, but he wouldn't be a slave to his instincts.
" I'm not gonna repeat my father's mistake" He whispered out .
" let me take you to rest my dear." He grinned as he carry Lorcan over his arm in a princess carry .
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While Aiden dealt with Lorcan, Asher had been caught in the crossfire of the palace's chaotic energies. During the height of the night, Asher's own biology had betrayed him. He had been hit by a "Sigma Heat"—a rare, intense flare triggered by the proximity of so many dominant Alphas.
He hadn't been able to escape. The details of the night were a blur of sweat, silver needles, and the crushing weight of Aiden's grounding pheromones.
The following morning, Asher emerged from his room as if nothing had happened. He adjusted his collar to hide the faint needle marks and walked into the dining hall with his head held high. He acted as arrogant and mocking as ever, his sharp tongue lashing out at the servants. But his eyes were different—there was a haunted, quiet understanding in them. He had been broken in a way that no one else could see, and he would carry that secret like a shield, pretending to be the same boy while the Sigma inside him finally went back to sleep.
" couldn't he just give me the damn suppressants?! I hate Aiden so much!." He mumbled, frowning.