The thought irritated him more than he expected.

Perhaps I should find a way to void our pact…

But then again…

No.

No, he would give her a chance.

She may yet surprise him.

Especially if she was going to be his queen one day.

“There is a reason I asked for you both to come,” Tenebrae finally said, his voice shifting from thoughtful to commanding.

He gestured toward Opal, who had been clinging tightly to Eliza’s side.

“I would like her to see something with her own eyes—something more than ruin.”

The young Udine girl flinched at the movement of his skeletal hand, and Ten immediately withdrew it.

Damn it…

He clenched his fingers into a fist, silently scolding himself. He had frightened her again.

He took a slow breath before speaking.

“My best friend,” he began, “was born paralyzed.”

Eliza blinked, caught off guard by the sudden confession.

“He was unable to move physically,” Ten continued, his tone neutral but distant. “But that never bothered me. He eventually learned to crawl, but that was not ideal for his race, nor for the kingdom he was born into.”

He paused as if sifting through ancient memories.

“As we grew, he found a way to change his race. The one he chose was… beautiful if you ask me. But even then, he remained paralyzed.

“That was when we discovered he was cursed. An unbreakable demon’s curse, bound to him since birth.”

A faint glow flickered behind Ten’s eyes.

“Unbreakable—to date."

Eliza swallowed, unsure how to respond.

After a moment, she simply asked, “Do you intend to break it?”

Ten didn’t hesitate.

“If he ever asked me to find a way, I would,” he said. “I would do anything for him… and I know he would do the same for me.”

But then, he went silent.

And when he spoke again, his voice was quieter.

“But that was… a very long time ago. For him. But not for me.”

A heavy weight settled in the carriage.

“I am not sure how long your people held me,” Ten said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But the time that has passed here…”

His fingers twitched slightly.

“It has been punishing."

He looked out the window, watching the eerie glow of the tunnel flicker against the carriage’s protective wards.

“And it may have cost me the last thing—the last person—from my past that I could still hold onto.”

Eliza felt a deep, aching sadness in his words.

She sank back into her seat, feeling the heaviness of it all settle over her.

She had thought of Tenebrae as untouchable. Unbreakable.

But here, at this moment, she saw something else.

Something fragile.

After a long silence, she shifted, forcing a small smile.

“What is this summons thing you mentioned earlier?” she asked, hoping to change the subject.

Tenebrae glanced at her before answering.

“It is a form of invitation,” he explained. “One that allows a foreign kingdom to enter another’s domain without triggering alarm spells or defensive wards."

Eliza nodded, absorbing the information.

“Of all the things we went through together, it eventually dawned on me that the one thing that meant the most to him was being treated the same.”

His voice, when he finally spoke, was quiet.

“He often had to work twice as hard just to get a fraction of the praise I did. And I was not blind to this. It… pissed me off. And to this day, it still does.”

Eliza watched him carefully, sensing the anger, the frustration, but also the deep, unwavering respect.

“But I won’t pity my friend. He would hate me for it.”

He clenched his skeletal fingers, exhaling slowly.

“I promised him I would always treat him as he was—my best friend. And not…”

He faltered.

Something shifted in his eyes, something dark, as memories clawed their way back—memories of his weakness, his humiliation.

The experiments. The pain.

The way the humans mocked him, spat on him.

They had called him names. Treated him like less than nothing.

And though his friend had never experienced that kind of torment, Tenebrae knew.

He knew the look of pity.

He knew how much it could wound.

And he refused—he would never—do that to the one person who had ever stood at his side.

“I refuse to treat him as if he were… a cripple.”

The words were cold, but Eliza felt something in them that wasn’t cruelty.

It was pain.

She didn’t know why, but she ached for him.

For the first time, she wanted to comfort him. A hug, a touch—something.

But she didn’t know how.

The silence stretched, lingering long after the words had faded.

The ride continued for another hour before Ten finally shifted, raising a hand.

The summoning ritual activated.

The horses responded immediately, their glowing green eyes flaring as the magic carved symbols into the air, forming an intricate circle of void-dark glyphs.

Then, the carriage lurched.

Reality bent.

And they were no longer in the tunnel.

They emerged from the void, the shift in reality marked by a sudden, deafening silence.

Then, the whispers began.

Low. Hushed. Crawling through the air like unseen fingers brushing against the skin, weaving between the towering spires of obsidian and bone that stretched toward the heavens in a chaotic, jagged embrace.

Above them, the moon hung monstrous and red, swollen like an open wound, casting the entire kingdom in a glow that shimmered between beauty and menace.

The air was alive.

Not in the way a forest hums with life or the way a city breathes with motion. No, this was different—this was the hush of the dead lingering in unseen spaces, whispering their secrets into the endless wind.

The palace of Nevermore loomed ahead, an imposing structure woven from darkness itself. Veins of pale silver traced its foundations, an eerie glow pulsing through them like the slow, deliberate beat of a heart long stopped.

And in its skies—

Ravens.

Hundreds. Thousands.

They filled the air in a living tide, black wings cutting against the crimson light, their cries echoing through the hollow expanse. Some perched upon the spiraling towers, their eyes glowing like embers in the dark. Others circled, watching, waiting.

But the largest among them were not mere birds.

They were mounts.

Great, towering ravens—their wingspans wide enough to cast shadows over entire courtyards—stood alongside armored figures clad in midnight-plated steel. Their riders sat motionless, their faces obscured beneath the glint of blackened helms, silent sentinels in a kingdom of ghosts.

Then, as the carriage fully materialized—

The sigils of the summoning circle flared, a pulse of deep indigo and black, before fading into the stone.

Stillness.

And then, movement.

The gates of the palace groaned open, and the figures surrounding them tensed.

Some stared at Tenebrae in shock, their glowing eyes widening in disbelief. Others turned to one another, whispering in hushed, frantic tones.

A few broke away, disappearing into the palace—rushing to deliver the news.

Tenebrae sighed, stepping out of the carriage.

“Tch. Louder than intended.”

Zanac chuckled, adjusting his coat as he stepped down beside him.

“It appears you have made quite the entrance, little master.”

Ten shot him a glare before turning to the gathering soldiers.

They did not raise their weapons.

But they watched him.

Like wolves deciding whether or not to bare their fangs.