Night had already fallen, and the lanterns along the side garden illuminated the fountains and sculptures, making the place feel like a living gallery. The two young men walked quietly side by side. Sven had never spent enough time in that part of the palace to see it at night, and it seemed even more beautiful this way—or perhaps it was his natural affinity for the dimness that made him feel closer to it.

“I had a new sculpture placed before your arrival,” Eidan remarked, guiding him along a path that led to the edge of the great lake bordering the palace.

Before them stood a marble figure of Zelene, the goddess of Delphen. She was depicted as a woman with delicate features and long, flowing hair, exaggerated in its length, seated upon a full moon. Her ethereal gown fell gracefully at her sides, and in her right hand she held a spear—the Aurora Lance, identical to his family’s relic.

“As you know, in Diodain we worship the god Elios,” the young king explained. “But now that we are united, I wanted to raise this altar so you might have a fragment of your home here.”

Sven felt a tightness in his chest. The altar, set at the water’s edge, must look magnificent under the full moon. There was no moon that night, but he could imagine the silver reflection washing over the lake and tracing the goddess’s features. It had been thoughtfully placed, echoing the altars he remembered from his homeland.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “I love it.”

He took Eidan’s hand in a spontaneous gesture. The king startled slightly at the sudden closeness, feeling warmth rise through his chest. He had to push aside the thoughts threatening to overwhelm him in order to speak clearly.

“Thousands of years ago,” he continued, “even before our kingdoms existed, the god Elios swore to the goddess Zelene that he would protect her forever, at the altar where they sealed their love.”

“It is the story of our world,” Sven murmured, recalling the legends his mother used to tell him and the accounts he had read alongside the maesters.

The love between the two gods had given rise to two kingdoms destined to remain bound by a shared origin: a promise of love, protection, and eternal loyalty.

Eidan turned toward him, a quiet determination in his gaze.

“I will also swear before the altar of Elios that I will make you happy.”

Sven smiled shyly. Perhaps, with Eidan’s strength and devotion, a home could be built there—just as the gods had once shaped the world.

Together, they returned to their respective chambers.

They did not notice how the statue of the goddess, in silence, seemed to answer that promise, emitting an ancient call that spread across the waters of the lake.

he strain of all the changes had finally begun to take its toll on Sven’s body. He felt an indescribable tension stretching from his shoulders down to his lower back, like a slab of stone pressing against him with increasing weight at every moment. It only eased when he was near Eidan or when he found himself once more before an altar devoted to his goddess, so reminiscent of those from his homeland.

That, in particular, had stirred something strange within him.

At times, he experienced a lightness that felt almost cosmic, as though gravity itself were distorting around him—as if something inside him longed to rise in answer to a divine call.

Noticing the exhaustion in his new master, the butler deemed it wise to prepare a relaxing bath. In the private chamber of his quarters, he lit a dozen candles around the room while two young maids hurried to fill a golden tub with hot, perfumed water, scattered with white rose petals. One of them stoked the fireplace so that, upon stepping out, Sven would not feel the abrupt change in temperature.

The other young maid began to help him loosen his garments and assisted him in putting on a silver silk robe that seemed to merge with his ivory skin.

“Please wait a moment before stepping in, my lord,” she cautioned. “The water is still too hot.”

The steam confirmed it—it had filled the room, saturating it with warmth and fragrance. Sven thought that, without a doubt, it would help clear his mind before sleep.

He approached the tub and extended his hand to test the temperature.

A surge of electrifying energy shot through his arm the moment his fingers touched the water. Then, a pale flash streaked across the room like lightning. He watched, utterly stunned, as luminous geometric patterns emerged from his fingertips, spreading across the surface and freezing every particle in their path. The suspended steam crystallized into icy motes that fell to the floor, and the candles were snuffed out at once, overcome by the sudden chill.

One of the maids let out a muffled cry and rushed toward him.

“My lord!”

The pitcher she carried shattered against the floor as she grabbed Sven’s hands, searching for any sign of injury. But she released them at once with a gasp—the contact had left her fingers burning and reddened, as though she had been burned by ice.

Sven looked at his own hands. Then he compared them to hers. There was not a single mark on him.

They stared at each other in silence, transfixed.

Unable to fully comprehend what had happened, Sven asked in a trembling voice that his three witnesses remain silent.

The ritual resumed as if nothing had occurred, allowing him to bathe—but nothing felt truly normal again.

No matter how hard he tried to make sense of it, he could not understand the nature of what had just happened, nor the kind of power that had awakened within him.