The night sky hung heavy above the Rhionhart mansion. A faint flash of lightning danced behind the grey clouds, as if echoing the storm still brewing inside Kael. The scent of rain lingered in the air, seeping in through the tall glass windows of the rear hall. That was where Kael stood—leaning against a cold marble pillar, his back turned to the man who had caused most of his inner wounds.
Duke Alvaren.
"Your aura is becoming more unstable," the Duke's voice was like a hammer striking steel—flat, hard, and devoid of mercy. "That girl… how far have you gone with her?"
Kael didn't answer immediately. His fists clenched at his sides, breath still heavy. His Nyx Aura had finally settled, but the residual heat still clung to his skin. He hated standing here—under his father's gaze, who couldn't even bring himself to say Vel's name.
"Have you ever heard of the Perfect Lunaris?"
Who hadn't? The old legend was whispered from generation to generation—about the perfect bond between Alpha and Omega. A resonance not only of souls, but of power. But still, it was just that: a legend. There was no proof—just tales of the first Emperor of the Riviere Empire, who was said to have turned tides of war simply by standing at the front, with his Empress beside him.
"Many dismiss it as myth," Alvaren continued, slowly pacing across the deep maroon carpet. "But I know it's real. The first Emperor wasn't powerful just because of noble blood—but because he was bonded to his Empress. Their resonance reached the highest peak. One body. Unmatched strength. Unstoppable."
Kael turned his neck slightly, a mocking breath of laughter slipping from him. "So now Father believes in fairy tales?"
"A fairy tale capable of changing the fate of a kingdom is worth believing in." Alvaren's gaze sharpened. "Your aura surged beyond anything I've seen. That's no coincidence."
Kael shook his head slowly, frowning. "My aura's always been hard to control. Don't tie it to some ridiculous legend. I've warned you—stay out of my business. Don't drag Vel into your power obsession."
"But your strength increased the moment your Lunaris responded to her," Alvaren countered. "Imagine what would happen if you marked her. Imagine the potential—"
"Stop." Kael's tone was ice.
Alvaren paused. Then, with that familiar, cutting calmness, he said, "mark her."
Kael went still. His eyes met his father's—cold against cold. But behind that frozen gaze, something began to crack. Not out of fear. Not even out of hesitation. But out of sheer disgust.
"You've always believed power can conquer everything," Kael said quietly. "But power without purpose only leaves you lonely at the top."
"Loneliness is bearable," Alvaren replied, "if it means no one can touch those you protect."
"Even if it means touching them like they're objects?"
Silence. But the lack of response said more than words ever could.
Kael turned and walked away. His shoulders were stiff, his breaths short. He passed through corridor after corridor without a sound—but his thoughts screamed.
He remembered his childhood—the first time his Aura erupted. He had cried in fear, worried he might hurt the old maid who had only reached out to pat his head. His father had forced him to stand alone, to suppress an aura that surged like molten lava. "Don't be weak," Alvaren had said. "You're a Rhionhart."
Kael's steps grew heavier, louder—his boots pounding the polished floor like war drums echoing through the halls. His chest felt tight. His breathing ragged. The Nyx Aura that had calmed earlier now stirred again beneath his skin—wild, restless.
Not just from anger. But from something far harder to control: instinct.
He hated it. Hated how his father's earlier words—"Mark her."—kept echoing in his head like a cursed spell. Hated how some part of him… was tempted.
But not like this. Not for power. Not because someone saw Vel as a tool.
Not out of force. And not to turn her into a weapon.
When he reached Vel's room, Kael didn't enter right away. He stood at the door for a few long seconds, collecting what fragments of control he still had. Then he opened the door—quietly.
Vel was sitting on her bed, knees tucked under the blanket. The soft glow of her bedside lamp cast shadows under her eyes. Her silver hair was a little tangled.
She had tried to fall back asleep, but shadows from her past haunted her closed eyes. Hands. Rough voices. Dark rooms. The stench of blood. The sound of chains.
When she saw Kael, her body stiffened.
Her eyes widened.
Kael immediately noticed. "It's me. It's okay."
Vel bit her lip, wiping cold sweat from her temple in relief. "I thought… I thought they came back. They…."
Kael wanted to ask who they were. But he knew now wasn't the time. He wouldn't make her relive that pain just for an answer.
He stepped forward quickly and knelt in front of her, taking her cold hands in his. But she was still trembling.
The fear was real. The wounds weren't healed.
"No one," Kael said softly, "no one is taking you anywhere. As long as you're with me, no one will touch you."
Vel hesitated, her voice barely a whisper. "But what if… what if they come again?"
Kael couldn't hold back any longer. He pulled her into a hug. No words. No excuses.
Just a long, silent embrace—as if trying to soothe the storm buried inside her small frame.
Vel tensed at first. But slowly, she melted into the hug.
Kael could feel her heartbeat—fast, nervous—matching his own.
He closed his eyes and held her tighter.
His instincts screamed, pulled, begged him to mark her. To claim her. Every breath of her sweet scent made him burn.
But he fought it. He bit his tongue to stop himself from saying her name, not with that wild, primal voice inside him.
"If I mark her now… then I'm no better than the ones who hurt her."
It would be a sin he'd never forgive himself for.
"I won't hurt you," he whispered finally. "You're free to choose—me, or anyone else. But if you need protection… I'll be the strongest wall you can lean on."
Vel didn't reply. She only gave a small nod against his chest.
Her gratitude was quiet—but immense.
Outside, the rain had begun to fall. Each drop tapping against the window like a prayer whispered too softly to ever reach the heavens.