Summer had taken a few steps ahead when she realised Spring wasn't beside her.
"Spring?"
At the sound of her name, Spring turned back, scanning her surroundings.
She looked everywhere.
But he was gone.
"Your Highness! Are you okay?" Summer rushed to her side. Her face paled—almost translucent.
"You… God, you look like you've seen a ghost."
Spring didn't look up.
"I… I hope I have."
"Spring…"
Summer grabbed her tiny friend by the shoulders, heart pounding. She glanced around, helpless, searching for something—anything—that might ground her.
"Come. We'll have some tea."
She led Spring to a small tavern nearby. Only three or four tables. Completely empty, oddly so, given how crowded the town had been.
Spring took the seat nearest the door and the only window. She sat in silence while Summer went to fetch the tea.
Was that…?
Is he…?
Maybe it wasn't him… Maybe…
But Spring would never not recognize him.
Fall.
She was the only one who could.
They said Fall wore many faces now, that no one even knew which one was his real one anymore. But Spring did. She knew his mannerisms like her own. They used to be like twin flames, two halves of the same whole.
One could change their skin. But the small details—those impossible little truths—no one could fake that.
She knew it was him.
Deep down, she knew.
But her mind clung to denial, shielding her from the past.
"There."
Summer placed the cup in front of her, making Spring flinch.
Summer sat beside her, soft and steady, placing a warm hand on her cheek.
"Your Highness… what is it? Is it…?"
Summer always knew. It wasn't hard to guess either.
Spring was light and joy—there was only one person who could turn her into this.
"Spring, it can't be him… The curse, remember?"
"No, Summer. I don't want to believe it either… but it was him."
She paused, a breath dragging through her.
"He's here."
The wound inside her tore open.
She couldn't even touch the tea.
So many emotions clawed at her chest, they collapsed into something numb.
A void.
The void burned into anger.
And anger became rage.
Spring stood abruptly. Her hands slammed down on the table.
The teacup cracked clean in two.
"He had the fucking audacity to greet me?! Just like that?!"
Summer stared, stunned.
In all their years together, she had never seen Spring like this.
"…Huh? Oh wow. Look at you!"
Summer smirked. "You're almost making me horny."
Spring was radiant and pure—angelic, even.
But beneath all that… she could be terrifying.
Summer rose, about to say something—
"Summer."
A voice interrupted her, calm but absolute.
Telepathy.
The king.
"Dante."
"Please return to the castle. Bring Spring. Winter is still here."
Summer froze. She looked at Spring.
"Is he there as well?"
"…"
The silence was answer enough.
Spring was right.
Summer began to sweat. How was she supposed to bring her there—
To both Winter and Fall?
She'd rather stage a royal assassination.
"Like hell I am, Dante! What—" she shouted in her mind.
No reply.
Spring stood still, eyes on the floor, fists trembling.
"Spring…"
She exhaled and asked softly,
"We have to go, don't we?"
Summer hesitated.
"It's alright," Spring said. "We have to help Dante."
The trip back to the castle was silent. Dead silent.
Summer kept running through every possible scenario in her head.
It wasn't like her to worry—she hated it, in fact—but this… this was different. It threw her completely out of her comfort zone.
Because this wasn't like anything else. And it hit hard.
The most powerful people she knew, gathered in one room again after more than fifty years.
They used to be her most beloved friends.
They laughed together.
Danced. Drank. Fought.
They grew up side by side.
And now…
Look at this mess.
After everything that happened, they were going to stand next to each other again?
How could they?
Sure, they all loved Dante—but at least three of them hated Fall.
Never mind the obvious disaster of a love triangle—Spring was now with Winter, and Fall had, not so long ago, betrayed her. Or at least, that's how it felt.
Summer despised him for what he did to her master. She was the one who cursed him, after all.
She didn't like Winter either, not really—but he wasn't the utter piece of garbage that Fall was.
And if he wasn't already trying to play it cool, Winter wouldn't hesitate for a second before killing Fall.
How the hell did Dante think this through?
Did he really expect them all to stand there calmly and help him?
Summer's heart dropped just thinking about the face Spring would make when she saw Fall again.
All that pain…
All that suffering…
And then—
It hit her.
It was him.
Had to be.
Dante lifted her curse.
Maybe that's what he had been searching for so desperately all this time…
What the hell?
At first, the two of them walked as slowly as they could, trying to buy time.
Neither wanted to face what was coming—for so many reasons.
But the closer they got to the castle, the faster Spring began to move.
And Summer, heart pounding, followed right after her.
Spring heard it first.
They were fighting.
Not in the Throne Room.
In the king's private library.
When Spring and Summer entered, they were met with a scene that was…
Well—unexpected.
Winter had Dante pinned down by the neck across a desk.
Fall was there too.
With a dagger at Winter's throat.
Samuel, the King's assistant, was holding Fall and Winter's arms with a thread of light arcane.
The moment the two girls stepped into the room, all eyes snapped to them.
Shock froze the space between them.
Fall looked… different this time.
Dressed entirely in black, in what could only be described as an assassin's attire. His entire body was cloaked in darkness—except for his head.
At his waist, one of his legendary daggers with crimson-tinted blades glinted faintly—one was already drawn.
A long black cape, high-collared and fastened with his royal brooch, flowed from his shoulders like a shadow that followed too closely.
He was nothing like Spring remembered.
But somehow, she could tell—this was the real him.
He looked older.
Muscular.
Elegant.
Deadly.
His face had changed too.
His hair was a mess of black, neither short nor long—untamed.
And his eyes—
The left one was pitch black. The right, a piercing gold.
Both locked on Winter with murder.
The black eye sat deeper in its socket, shadowed and rimmed by scars that slashed across the left side of his face.
It looked almost like it didn't belong to him. Like something had tried to tear him apart and missed just enough to leave a warning.
He looked wild.
The golden eye…
That was the only part Spring still recognised.
For just a heartbeat, he met her gaze.
And then he looked away.
Silently, he broke Samuel's hold, dropped the dagger and slid it back into his belt.
Then, without a word, he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall like none of it had mattered.
Winter didn't back down.
He didn't move a muscle.
His voice was calm when he said,
"Spring."
Summer reacted first.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
Winter didn't even flinch. "What do you mean? Isn't it obvious? He brought him here. He lifted your curse. He made us search for the tools to do it ourselves."
His jaw clenched. "You—"
His voice stayed steady, but his eyes could've burned the whole city down.
Summer's soon matched his.
"You think I wanted this?!" the king snapped, still pinned by Winter's grip.
"I wouldn't put all of us through this if I had a fucking choice!"
Winter was losing patience fast, and this time, even Spring noticed something shifting. He didn't even seem to care what Dante was hiding anymore.
And Spring—she understood his rage toward Fall, but this? This aggression toward the king?
It felt needless. Ugly. Disappointing.
"You always have a fucking choice!" Summer barked. "Do you even remember what he did to her?!"
Her fury was volcanic.
She hated Fall. Truly, deeply.
He hurt Spring in a way that could never be undone.
And yet—
Spring stayed calm.
She was quiet, watching, wondering what exactly happened before they arrived.
She didn't hate the king for Fall being here.
If anything, it only confirmed one thing:
Whatever was going on had to be dire.
She was holding herself together surprisingly well, given the sheer weight of the moment.
The most jovial one among them… was being the most mature.
"Stop it."
Her voice was soft.
But it cut.
She was supposed to be the one hurting the most.
And yet—she wasn't.
All eyes turned to her.
Except for Fall.
He didn't dare.
He hadn't looked at her since.
It was obvious he didn't want to be there.
But he didn't look destroyed either.
He stood like a shadow on the wall, arms folded, expression unreadable.
He was holding up—just in his own way.
There was even a faint smile on his lips.
Calm.
Too calm.
It made the others want to rip him apart.
He was defying them. And they felt it.
"Please, Dante," Spring said again, her voice like silk over blades.
"You have some explaining to do."
That pulled everyone back.
Winter let go of the king and moved to stand behind Spring, protective, eyes never leaving Fall.
Summer stood close on her right.
Fall stayed where he was—on the wall to their left, barely blinking.
Now, all eyes turned to the king.
For once… everyone wanted to hear what he had to say.
Dante exhaled, then said flatly,
"I'll go straight to the point."
A pause.
"Tharion was… revived."
Fall almost laughed. The others didn't move.
They turned to stone.
"You've all seen it," the king went on. "The three of you. You know what I'm talking about."
Spring's moved slightly.
Winter caught her by the waist, holding her steady.
Fall saw this.
And quickly looked away, jaw tightening. His smile completely vanished.
"I don't know who did it," Dante continued, "but I know someone did. A Royal. Someone who's been experimenting with darkness arcane and the water from the Fountain at end of the Trials."
He looked exhausted.
"I don't know the whole story yet. But in all of my research, that's the only combination capable of something like this. And… the sightings. They're everywhere. All across the country. I didn't believe them at first, but there's no way that many people are hallucinating the same thing."
At the word darkness, Spring's gaze drifted—against her will.
To the only person she had ever known who held such a power.
She hated that she looked.
Hated that it still… intrigued her.
Darkness wasn't an arcane. It was a curse.Those who survived its torture didn't come out human.
It hollowed them out.Infected dreams. Drowned thoughts. Shattered sanity.What was left wasn't a person—it was something else.
And yet… Fall was still standing.
Spring didn't want to think about it.
Dante paused.
The tension in the room was unbearable.
His face was grim.
"As for the experiments…" Dante began, his voice low. "The three of you saw them earlier. I didn't mean to withhold information, but you wouldn't have believed me otherwise."
He exhaled.
"We only discovered them recently. That underground room—we built it to start investigating. And the only thing we know for certain is this: the Veil's power is what keeps them alive. Without it, they just… freeze. They don't move, don't breathe. But they're not dead. They just stand there, like puppets."
He looked down, visibly shaken.
"I cannot say this clearly enough. This is the most disturbing thing I have ever seen. It feels like a curse. But it has to be something deeper. Older."
None of them spoke.
The silence was heavy.
Each of them cleared their throat, fidgeted, stared at nothing.
The image of what they'd witnessed earlier still clung to them like cold sweat.
It felt like they were still there.
Summer was the first to find her voice.
"How… how is that possible?" she asked, quiet but frantic. "You can't access the Veil—"
"There is a way," came a voice from the shadows.
Fall.
Everyone turned to look at him.
"Demons can pass through the Veil at will," he said simply, stepping away from the wall. "So either your Royal got himself a very obnoxious pet…"
He paused.
"Or he became one."
His voice was too casual.
Winter and Dante stared at him.
Fall gave a faint smirk. "Oh, that's what you think is impossible? The man literally brought the dead back."
His tone dripped sarcasm.
Winter let go of Spring and began walking toward him slowly, voice quiet but ice-cold.
"Fall. If you have anything to do with this…"
He didn't need to finish. They were all thinking it.
Darkness users were rare. Too rare.
And the timing was too perfect.
Fall burst out laughing, loud and unbothered.
"Oh, that's precious!"
He stopped abruptly, voice dropping.
"You'll what, Winter?"
A beat.
"What haven't you done already?"
That landed.
For the first time, Winter hesitated.
Caught off guard.
Spring sighed and stepped in again, firm but diplomatic.
"What if that's not it? What if… they just took whatever they needed from the Veil during The Trials when they could just enter it?"
Dante nodded, grabbing hold of the idea like a lifeline.
"She's right. We've been monitoring the Veil constantly. There's no way, in all these years, that someone's been slipping through unnoticed. Which means…"
"…they'll be present at the next Trial," Summer said, finishing his thought.
Dante's face was grave.
"And that is exactly why I asked you all here."
He looked at each of them in turn.
"I cannot risk wasting the children's opportunity to be elevated. They've trained for this their entire lives. But this—this is beyond them. If he shows up… not one of you can take him alone."
They all fell quiet, thinking.
And then—
"Well, that's settled then!" Fall chirped.
Too cheerful.
He flicked a glance at Winter, then at Spring. Then Summer.
"I guess we'll be seeing each other very soon."
Winter and Summer both stared at him like they could set him on fire with a look.
What is wrong with him?