The grandfather clock in the palace struck nine in the morning, shattering the silence of the marble corridor with the echo of his swift, heavy footsteps. Strands of his very long, soft golden hair hung in straight, heavy locks down his lower back. On either side of the hallway, the servants bowed in silent reverence, though Kylos offered only a brief nod, his mind entirely consumed by an urgent matter. Reaching the heavy wooden door at the end of the corridor, he knocked with careless indifference before pushing it open with firm force.

The oppressive gloom in the bedchamber instantly sparked his anger. Without a word, he took wide strides toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, seized the heavy velvet drapes, and yanked them aside. Sunlight burst through to pierce the darkness as he swung the glass window wide open, its iron frame groaning under his hand.

A raspy voice grumbled from among the shadows, "Get out... and close that window. I have no desire to see the sun."

Kylos turned toward the bed, shaking his head in frustration. "Get out from under those covers, right now."

Silence was his only answer. The figure beneath the silk blankets remained motionless. Losing the last vestige of his patience, Kylos marched to the bedside and stripped the blankets away in a single sweep.

The man groaned helplessly, burying his face into the mattress. "Kylos, leave me alone... Can't I just have one more hour of rest?"

"Ivering, you are the ruler of Cassial!" Kylos snapped in a stern tone. "Look at yourself! What happened to the sovereign who brought this kingdom to its golden age? You are withering away in dark rooms while the world outside moves forward."

Ivering grabbed a pillow and pulled it over his head, his voice muffled. "I am fine, brother... leave me."

Kylos scoffed bitterly, pulling the pillow away and tossing it across the stone floor. "Fine? Look at your face—you are as pale as a corpse. You spend your days isolated in that damned office or buried in this bed. You barely speak to your wife, or your son... Do you even know where your crown prince is right now?"

Ivering opened his eyes with great effort. Strands of his golden hair hung freely around a face once revered for its timeless grace, though now marred by sheer exhaustion. He looked up at his brother with striking violet eyes—the unmistakable mark of the royal Cassial lineage.

"He... he told me yesterday," Ivering muttered softly. "He is leading the vanguard south to deal with the bandits on the border."

Kylos ran a hand over his face, letting out a heavy sigh. The sharp anger in his eyes softened, replaced by a deep, painful grief.

"Iver..." Kylos murmured, stepping closer and extending his hand to help him up. "I know the weight you carry. But this slow torment... it is destroying you."

Ivering sat up slowly, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. "I don't understand what you want from me, Kal."

"I want you to stop blaming yourself!" Kylos said, his tone filled with plea. "The disappearance of our brother Demic and our cousin Alan thirty-five years ago... our father’s sudden passing... and our cousin Kilian fleeing into the unknown for no apparent reason—it was all destined, Ive. None of it was your fault. Under your reign, Cassial has flourished like never before. Yet while the empire thrives, its Emperor bleeds to death over memories."

Kylos extended his hands, gently cradling Ivering’s face. "I haven't given up. I am still searching for them, and I swear to you I will bring them home. But today, you must get up. Take a walk in the gardens. Reclaim your life... and go ask for Yursina's forgiveness."

Ivering frowned slightly. "Yursina? Why would she be angry?"

Kylos stepped back, shaking his head with a sarcastic laugh. "Is that a joke? She is your Empress, but when was the last time you spoke to her as a husband? You sleep on the couch in your office more than you sleep in your own room. Were it not for the absolute loyalty of the palace guards, rumors of your neglect would have torn this court apart months ago."

A sharp, angry flash glinted in Ivering’s violet eyes. "Watch yourself, brother... Since when do you interfere in my relationship with my wife? Are you asking me to strangle you?"

Kylos smiled as he turned toward the exit. "If it gets you out of this bed, gladly. Now go take a bath, change your clothes, and act like an Emperor."

Before Ivering could respond, a gentle knock echoed at the open door.

"Your Highnesses, forgive the intrusion."

Standing at the threshold was a tall young man adjusting thin, round spectacles. Long platinum hair cascaded down his back, neatly tied at the ends with a dark silk ribbon. His greenish-yellow eyes radiated a soft warmth. It was Kritos, the Emperor’s personal aide and head steward of the royal family.

"Ah, Kris. Perfect timing," Kylos said, preparing to leave. "Make sure he bathes and leaves this room. Have the servants clear out the stale air, keep the windows open, and lock it until evening. That is an order."

Kritos placed his right hand over his heart, bowing with royal discipline. "As you command, Your Grace Kylos."

"Kris, why are you obeying my brother's orders?" Ivering muttered from the bed. "I am the Emperor here, last I checked."

Kylos called back with a light chuckle as his footsteps faded down the hallway, "Then start acting like one, Ive."

Silence settled over the room. Kritos immediately began preparing the bath in the adjacent chamber. Ivering rose slowly, wrapping his robe around himself, and stepped onto the balcony.

The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of blooming tulips from the courtyard below. He raised his eyes to the blue sky, feeling a strange, distant pang in his chest. Has the sky always been this bright? he thought to himself, realizing how long it had been since he last looked up.

His gaze fell upon the palace gardens. Resting near the marble fountain was a solitary figure clad in a dress of rich sapphire blue. Her raven-black hair reached down to her waist, and even from this distance, he knew her eyes perfectly matched the brilliant shade of her gown.

Yursina... A heavy lump formed in Ivering's throat. How deeply I loved you... and how deeply I have wronged you.

"My Lord, the bath is ready," Kritos’ voice broke his train of thought.

Ivering withdrew from the balcony and headed to the bath. He stepped into the warm water, letting the heat seep into his exhausted joints. After finishing his bath, he put on a fresh off-white shirt embroidered with gold, then sat before the mirror while Kritos slowly ran a silver comb through his damp golden locks.

"Are you feeling alright, Your Highness?" Kritos asked softly.

Ivering let out a weary sigh. "Why is everyone asking me the same question today?"

"Because your well-being is the foundation of this kingdom, my Lord," Kritos replied tenderly, meeting his eyes in the mirror. "You raised me after my father passed away, and you gave me a place by your side. To me, and to many others, you are the sun of Cassial."

Ivering smiled gently, raising his hand to stay the steward's movement. "You have grown into a fine man, Kris. Stop speaking as if you are merely a servant. You are family here."

He stood up and adjusted his cuffs. "I am going to the mausoleum to visit my father. Do not follow me."

As the Emperor walked away, Kritos watched his departing figure, concern lingering behind his spectacles. You carry a burden you refuse to share, my Lord... How much longer can you hide it?

Deep within the secluded eastern wing of the palace grounds stood a massive mausoleum carved entirely from white marble. Ivering pushed open the heavy brass doors and stepped into the quiet, solemn hall.

In the center rested a luxurious glass coffin, surrounded by a bed of fresh white tulips. Ivering’s steps slowed as he approached, until his strength gave out and he sank to his knees beside the glass.

Inside lay the former Emperor Cassius, preserved in eternal peace. His features matched Ivering’s with striking precision—the same regal jawline, the same golden hair, except that Cassius bore a small, distinct beauty mark beneath his left eye that enhanced his handsome visage.

Ivering pressed his palm against the cold glass, as if trying to reach through the barrier.

"Father..." his voice cracked into a soft whisper. "I am so lost. Demic and Alan are still missing... Kilian fled... and Uncle Johann pretends to be strong, but his heart is broken because his son Kilian abandoned him for no apparent reason. I failed to keep our family together. I failed as a ruler... as a husband... and even as a father."

He rested his forehead against the crystal surface, letting out a trembling breath.

"And now... my time is running out. The curse Isolda cast upon my heart before her execution... it is consuming me from within. The magic I use to hide the gray in my hair grows weaker by the day. I distance myself from Yursina because I cannot bear to watch her mourn me when the end comes..."

His confession was cut short by a faint sound—the creak of the mausoleum's brass doors pushing open.

Ivering stood up quickly, wiping his face as a tall figure stepped into the hall. The newcomer possessed long, icy-blue hair that reached past the middle of his back, and striking silver eyes that gleamed beneath the dim light. A dark blue cloak rested over his broad shoulders.

"Elias..." Ivering said under his breath.

"I miss him too, brother," Elias said in a deep, warm voice as he approached the tomb. "Cassius was not my biological father, but he raised me with the same devotion he showed you and all our brothers. He never once made me feel like an outsider."

Ivering managed a tender smile. Taking a step toward Elias, he reached out and playfully ruffled his neatly styled blue hair, an old habit from their childhood.

Elias tilted his head with a slight frown, though his eyes brimmed with affection. "Ive, please. I am no longer a child, and I am older than you as well."

Ivering chuckled softly. "You will always be my beloved older brother, and besides, the difference between us is only two years."

Before Elias could respond, a loud, panicked shout echoed from the gardens outside, shattering the quiet of the sanctuary.

"Ivering! Elias!"

The doors burst open again. Kylos stood at the entrance, breathless, his face flushed and his chest heaving as if he had sprinted across the entire domain. The sky behind him had turned a deep, blood-red hue with the setting sun.

Elias stepped forward. "Kal? What is wrong?"

Kylos fought to catch his breath, his eyes wide with shock. "I found them... They are here!"

Ivering froze in place, the blood draining from his face. "What are you talking about?"

"Demic and Alan!" Kylos gasped. "They are in the main medical wing... Kilian brought them back!"

Ivering grabbed his brother's shoulders tightly, shaking him. "Kilian? Where is he?!"

"He left... He vanished again before I could reach him," Kylos said in a trembling voice. "But the others... they are alive, Ive."

The world began to spin beneath Ivering's feet. His knees buckled, but Elias quickly caught him by the arms to steady his frame.

"Brother! Hold on!"

Ivering rasped in a faint voice, his heart beating violently and painfully against his ribs, "Take me to them... Take me... now!"

The three of them rushed together through the darkening corridors toward the medical wing. Ivering's mind raced with unanswered questions: Where had they been for thirty-five long years?

They arrived at the grand double doors of the inner chamber. Ivering extended a trembling hand, his fingers tightening around the cold brass handle.

He took a deep breath, and pushed the door open—

(To be continued)