The castle of Lunos rose on the hilltop like a stone claw stabbed into the grey sky. The towers were black, blacker than the rock they sat on, and the battlements, covered in snow, looked like broken teeth. The wind howled through the gaps in the walls. The banners of the march – a white moon with pale hands surrounding it – beat desperately against their masts.
"It's beautiful," said Luna beside me.
"It's austere," I replied. "Like your mother."
She did not answer. I tightened the reins and rode on.
---
Linda Lunos received us in the inner courtyard, where the snow was trodden by servants and soldiers.
She was shorter than I imagined, but her presence filled the space. Her silver‑white hair, like her daughter's, fell over her shoulders in perfect waves. Her clear, tired eyes scanned the group with a slowness that was not disinterest – it was assessment.
"Mother," said Luna, dismounting. "We have arrived."
"I see." Linda hugged her daughter tightly, but her eyes remained on me. "You are Zirinos?"
"I am."
"Trussum's killer."
"The apprentice. Still."
She almost smiled.
"Humility suits heroes. Follow me. Your mounts will be taken care of."
---
The reception room was large, with a lit fireplace and tapestries telling the family's history – hunts, battles, alliances. Linda sat in the highest chair, her hands on the wooden arms. Luna stood beside her. Helena and I sat on the opposite benches.
"Your purpose?" asked Linda, without preamble.
"Trussum is in this region. He used a village as a sacrifice. Bodies in a circle, Trásserius flowers in the centre."
"I know. My spies informed me." Linda scratched her chin – she had no beard, but the gesture was the same. "Do you think he is still here?"
"I believe so. The trail of corrupted mana leads north, to the mountains."
"The mountains are full of caves. And of minor demons, since the first portal was opened."
"Then I must explore them."
"Alone?"
"With Helena."
Linda looked at her daughter.
"And Luna?"
"Luna stays here." Luna's gaze wavered. "She needs to rest. And you need to speak with her."
"Always."
Silence settled. The fireplace crackled.
---
In the room they gave us – Helena and I shared the space for lack of other quarters – I sat on the bed and took off my boots. The melted snow had soaked my socks. My toes were white, numb.
"Linda distrusts you," said Helena, leaning against the wall.
"Everyone distrusts me."
"You are right."
"I know."
"She will try to find out who you are."
"She can try."
"Doesn't that bother you?"
"It does." I put my boots back on. "But I can't do anything. The truth is the truth."
"Even when you don't tell it?"
"Especially when you don't tell it."
Helena did not insist. She just closed her eyes and tried to sleep.
---
Luna and Linda spoke alone in the marchioness's room.
The door was closed. The candles lit. The fire, low, nearly out.
"Mother," Luna began, sitting on the bed where she had slept as a child. "Zirinos…"
"He is dangerous." Linda sat beside her. "I know."
"But he is not evil."
"Danger does not need to be evil. Fire is dangerous. The sea is dangerous. Zirinos is dangerous."
"He saved me."
"Saved you? Or used you?"
Luna hesitated.
"I don't know." She lowered her voice. "But I believe he likes me."
"Liking is not protecting."
"It is the first step."
Linda sighed.
"Your father…" she began.
"My father?" Luna raised her eyes.
"Merius. He wrote me a letter. He says the harvests in Derylini are bad. That he needs to stay longer."
"Longer?"
"He doesn't know when he will return."
Luna felt the weight in her chest. The truth – the betrayal, the glances, the silence – burned on her tongue.
'Tell her', she thought. 'Tell her everything.'
"Mother," she said finally. "Merius…"
"Merius what?"
"Merius… is a good administrator. The harvests will improve."
The lie came easily. Like all the ones she had learned in recent months.
Linda touched her hair.
"You are a good daughter, Luna."
"I try to be."
She could not look at her mother.
---
In the courtyard, already night, a messenger from Decatry dismounted.
He was covered in snow, his horse panting, his face marked by fatigue. He handed Linda a parchment sealed with red wax – the crest of Remadís.
Linda read in silence.
"King Dizius is ill," she said to no one. "Very ill. The doctors do not guarantee the winter."
"And the succession?" asked a captain.
"Lirius. Elisa. Neither has the majority."
"The war?"
"The war waits."
She put the parchment in her sleeve.
"Zirinos," said the messenger. "Duke Andy asks that you be told… that Mira is well. That Baron Ander is taking care of her."
"I will tell him."
The messenger left.
Linda remained in the courtyard, watching the snow.
---
— INTERLUDE —
In the mountains of Lunos, inside a dark cave, Trussum prepared his final trap.
His mutilated body glowed with the light of the Trásserius flowers he had stuffed into his chest. The blue eyes, scattered across his skin, were all open, all watching the cave entrance.
The goat's horn – the artefact he had brought from the second portal – rested on a rock. Trussum stuffed the last flowers inside, sealed the opening with wax, and blew.
The sound was low. Almost human.
But it echoed.
It echoed through the mountains, the valleys, the forests. It reached the second portal – the southern one – and woke those who slept there.
Two pairs of eyes gleamed in the darkness.
Two demon lords.
Trainur and Treiza.
They were far away. They would take a month, perhaps more, to reach Lunos.
Trussum smiled.
"Enough," he murmured to himself. "I will kill him alone."
The black flowers glowed.
The cave smelled of sulphur.