"You… what's your ultimate goal?"
Zephyrion had been about to speak when he paused. Demorian had asked for his goal, and without a doubt, finding his mother was the only thing occupying his mind.
Regardless, it was the prefix ultimate that made him hesitate.
Was that truly his ultimate goal? What came after he found his mother? Would that be the end of it all… a happily ever after?
Zephyrion had lived through seven years of brutality to know there was nothing like a happily ever after, not in their world.
The Order would still come for him. The tension between empires could snap at any moment. War could arrive without warning. The world was one of chaos, where nothing was ever certain.
His thoughts drifted, and before he realized it, Zephyrion found himself replaying every one of his mother's rules in his mind. All twelve of them… all centered on one thing. Control.
