They said he was the finest strategist of his generation.
The youngest to ever earn the title of Master.
The sharpest mind in all of Celestis.
But Daniel did not feel that way.
Surrounded by banners, hollow vows, and promises that hung in the solemn air like blades waiting to fall, there was only one way he could define himself:
A mockery.
The greatest mockery in the kingdom.
One he had helped create.
He had voted.
He had advised.
He had supported the new king.
He had handed over the throne in a decision that now weighed deep in his bones.
Not out of ambition.
Not out of convenience.
Not out of naivety.
He had done it because, in that moment of chaos following the former king's death, he believed it would protect the only person who truly mattered.
Bela.
Bela of Celestis.
A living exception to logic, to war, to the curse that tainted their bloodline.
The thought pierced his mind like a burning spear.
He had been wrong.
And there was no undoing it now.
The previous king had never pleased him.
Not because of cruelty.
Because of pride.
He was a man incapable of seeing beyond treaties, traditions, and the endless pursuit of power—even to the point of suffocating his own blood.
He had gone so far as to interfere in something as personal as Daniel's own marriage.
A union he had never accepted—nor ever would.
His forced engagement to Adria.
Everyone in the kingdom knew the girl desired him.
Few understood that her desire was not born of love, but of rivalry.
She wanted to take everything from Bela.
But Daniel had never looked at her that way.
Nor would he ever.
His heart belonged to someone else.
And he would choose death before betraying that truth.
Heralds stepped forward one by one.
House leaders bowed their heads, recited empty oaths, and left their words hanging in the thick, suffocating air.
Daniel watched in silence.
Measuring every gesture.
Every hesitation.
Every fracture.
Nothing escaped him.
That was his gift.
And, at times, his curse.
His attention was not on the king.
Nor the vassals.
Nor the ceremony.
It was on her.
Bela stood a few steps ahead, her posture flawless in a way that both irritated and captivated the court.
Midnight-black hair, soft curls falling over her shoulders.
Eyes the color of cold skies—capable of freezing anyone who dared hold her gaze too long.
But it was not her beauty that consumed him.
It was her strength.
The storm she carried in silence.
Her resistance.
The way the world tried—again and again—to break her… and failed.
She was the home he had never had.
The certainty he never dared speak aloud.
The reason he would burn the entire continent to the ground.
And she didn't even fully know it.
Daniel had not been born into privilege.
His childhood had unfolded in a small stone house, with a leaking roof and borrowed books he devoured to forget hunger.
At ten, the Academy opened its doors.
He was chosen among hundreds.
Not for his name.
Not for wealth.
Not for connections.
For talent.
Pure, terrifying talent.
A mind so sharp it frightened them—enough that they took him in, if only to ensure he would never become their enemy.
By thirteen, he surpassed instructors.
By fifteen, the Academy sent him to Celestis.
They no longer knew what to do with him.
The court saw him arrive:
A thin boy.
Watchful eyes.
Quiet.
Dangerously intelligent.
He accepted his fate without understanding it.
…until he saw her.
The first time they crossed paths, she was ten.
He was almost fifteen.
A silent girl, with eyes far too deep for her age.
Eyes that stole the breath from his lungs.
He never forgot them.
Months later, when he saw her again—eleven now, and he fifteen—it struck him with force:
The sense that their destinies were bound together.
Another House was announced.
Another oath repeated.
The hall continued breathing its solemn lies.
Daniel heard none of it.
His mind drifted—against his will—to a memory that had haunted him for days.
The night they stopped being allies.
Stopped being friends.
Stopped being two souls merely orbiting one another.
The night of Bela's eighteenth birthday.
The celebration had ended.
Servants extinguished the candles.
The castle slept.
He found her on a balcony.
Alone.
Her dress, deep blue, wrapped around her like a piece of the night sky.
The wind tangled her curls.
Her breathing was barely steady.
—You should be celebrating, he said.
She didn't look at him.
—Everyone is celebrating, she whispered. Except me.
He stepped closer.
—Why?
She glanced at him over her shoulder.
In her eyes: exhaustion, duty, fear… and that familiar glint—the one that always appeared just before she broke.
—Because everything they celebrate, she said with a fractured smile… are just new chains.
His chest tightened.
He could have walked away.
Could have pretended not to see.
Could have done the right thing.
He didn't.
He raised a hand and touched her cheek.
She trembled.
—If you're going to break, he whispered… then break.
I'll hold you together.
She closed her eyes.
And he closed the distance.
The kiss wasn't gentle.
Nor hesitant.
Nor controlled.
It was inevitable.
That night, there were no titles.
No duties.
No crowns.
Only breath.
Shaking hands.
And the urgency of two souls who had waited far too long.
Their first time wasn't perfect.
It was real.
It was intense.
It was necessary.
She trembled in his arms.
He broke apart inside.
And when morning came, he knew:
The world would never be the same again.
The vows continued.
Voices echoed.
Daniel inhaled slowly.
It wasn't just that night.
There were other memories.
Like that dawn, weeks ago, when she entered the war room without warning.
No crown.
No dress.
Just a simple tunic.
—Always carrying the weight of the world, she said.
—Someone has to, he replied.
She crossed the distance and kissed him before he could think.
There was no hesitation this time.
There was hunger.
Rage.
Fear.
He lifted her onto the map table, scattering routes, armies, futures.
The room itself became a desperate refuge.
—I don't want to think, she whispered, her forehead pressed to his.
—Then let me think for both of us, he answered.
And for a while…
neither of them thought about the kingdom at all.
Another House swore loyalty.
Another lie wrapped in ceremony.
Daniel returned to the present.
His instinct—the one that had never failed him—whispered something dark.
Something terrible was coming.
And when it did…
he would have to choose.
Between the kingdom—
…and Bela.
But that choice had been made years ago.
If she fell,
he would burn the world to follow her.
Not because he loved her.
But because without her…
he would cease to exist.
And a man who ceases to exist
does not fear becoming a monster.