Morning Mist

The morning mist slowly rose through the tall columns of the Rion estate, casting a heavy shadow over the eastern lawns. The sound of clashing swords in the training yard had awakened earlier than the roosters, but Kael Rion—the eighteen-year-old heir of House Rion—had no interest in formal training with stiff, old masters.

He had taken refuge in the melancholic silence of the back garden, where only one person was practicing. A young man with dark hair and jade-green eyes wielded a long sword, his movements strangely flawless. Sarit Elan, the newly arrived servant, had been brought last week by one of the border guards—with no background, no family name, and wounds that no one dared ask about.

Kael leaned against the wall with a curious smile and watched him.

Without turning his gaze, Sarit said,

“If you're just going to stand there, at least don’t block the sun so your shadow won’t fall on my sword.”

Kael was taken aback. No one ever spoke to him like that.

“Are you always this rude, or does your tongue sharpen when you're sweaty?”

Sarit smiled—cold and indifferent. “Only when a bored little noble boy gets in the way of my training.”

That day was the first time Kael felt intrigued instead of insulted.

And that day, the first seed of a tragedy was sown.

Part Two: The Night of No Return

Two months later, Kael's birthday celebration was held in the estate’s grand hall. Music, laughter, and admiring gazes surrounded him, but his eyes sought only one person. Someone who wasn’t allowed on the upper floors that night. Sarit, dressed in servant’s clothes, stood in the kitchen, yet his eyes watched Kael from behind the mask of silence.

That night, after hours of power games and aristocratic formalities, Kael—drunk on wine and raw youth—made his way to the old eastern storage. The place where Sarit always hid after parties.

And amidst the scent of damp wood and dying embers, something happened that would change the fate of several noble houses forever.