Wind whipped through Kai’s hair as he flew across the sky above the city. It was late—close to midnight—yet Hermil still glowed with life. Lanterns lined the main roads, lights flickered above noble estates, and the sounds of people carried even at the height where Kai hovered, far above the ground.

The people were still out in force, bristling through alleys and market lanes, too distracted by their own lives to look skyward. Just how he preferred it.

He hoped that meant King Sullivan was still awake. As for Regina… he doubted she ever truly slept. As far as he could tell, she was a paranoid woman. She didn’t strike him as the type to trust anyone with her back turned, but that was that.

It would’ve been easier to return with Amara by his side, but too many eyes would’ve followed. A royal and a disgraced noble going to the castle together? That would stir talk before he could even step inside. And this meeting? It wasn’t something he wanted spoken of.

The medallion shifted in his back pocket. If Regina knew he had brought it, she wouldn’t hesitate to send shadows after him. Assassins, spies, curses cloaked as gifts—it didn’t matter. He knew she wanted her hands on it.

So he chose silence instead. Being discreet is always better when sensitive topics were involved.

Gliding low, he weaved through the air above sprawling noble estates, each more gilded than the last. Banners after banners passed beneath him, and he tried to figure out which noble house belonged to who. Most were dark, their halls dim, but a few still had signs of life.

He didn’t slow until the castle came into view. Hovering mid-air, Kai narrowed his eyes, activating [Hawk Eyes].

The spell came to life almost immediately. The world sharpened. The fog of night lifted from his vision, and the castle’s outline came into perfect, brutal clarity.

The first thing he saw were the coordinated guards. They moved in patterns—pairs and trios pacing the outer walls. Their armors mirrored the torchlights. And there were more guards than he expected. Far more. Last time he was here, he could count patrols on one hand. Now? They crisscrossed like ants over a disturbed nest.

He guessed it was due to all the powerful higher nobles staying in the castle. But he didn’t waste long on the guards.

Mortal eyes could be avoided easily. His attention turned instead to the castle itself—the stone walls, the high towers, and what lay beyond them.

And through his spell-enhanced gaze… he peered past the walls.

They were all enchanted—layered with overlapping wards, glyphs etched into stone, invisible threads of mana humming just beneath the surface. Crude, in Kai’s opinion. But functional enough. And dangerous if tripped.

If he tried to fly over the castle walls, even a whisper of his mana brushing those wards would flare like a beacon. So much for being discreet.

He circled the castle slowly, cloak trailing behind him, his senses sharpened to every flicker of arcane resistance. Most of the wards were intact, glowing faintly to his [Hawk Eyes] with lines of rigid structure, meant more to detect than to destroy, but he couldn’t take chances.

Then he saw it.

A pair of enchantments woven over a balcony on one of the upper floors. They pulsed irregularly, the mana threads fraying near the edges—unstable or poorly maintained. Either way, they were weaker than the rest.

Kai hovered at a distance, canceling his spell and drifting just outside their reach. The world dulled without his [Hawk Eyes], but he didn’t need them now. Instead, he extended a single strand of mana—thin as a thread of spider silk—toward the flawed wards.

The strand brushed the edge of the glyphwork, and like a lock meeting its key, he began unraveling the layers, a twist and soon, it was gone.

The enchantments faded with barely a flicker, and more importantly no alarm.

He exhaled slowly.

They really don’t expect anyone to know how to do this, he thought, almost amused. Flying Mages were rare enough. Ones trained in ward-breaking? That bordered on mythical in this era. He made short work of the ward and made sure it was disabled.

With practiced ease, he glided forward and landed silently on the balcony, boots touching the stone without a sound.

One second passed. Then another. Still nothing. Only the quiet rustle of wind and the distant hum of city life below.

He let out a slow breath, tension bleeding from his shoulders. But he didn’t linger.

Staying in one place was how you got caught.

Amara’s words about the layout of the palace echoed in his memory, You’ll have to go to the fourth floor—there’s a curved corridor leading to a side wing. Go through the reading chamber, there’s a narrow arch at the end. That’s where Father’s quarters begin.

He guessed that he was on the fifth floor and found the stairs easily enough, descending without sound. No guards yet. The corridor ahead curved left, just as she’d said. Velvet drapes lined the walls, and the scent of old parchment drifted from a room ahead—likely the reading chamber. He was on the right path.

According to Amara, King Sullivan didn’t keep many guards in that section of the castle. Just few guards at the entrance of it and only one Knight with him that even slept close by.

Which meant if Kai was careful, there wouldn’t be a fight. The real struggle was just getting there unseen.

And so far… he was winning. He started down the corridor, keeping his steps measured as his eyes wandered across the castle’s lavish interior.

Portraits and paintings lined every wall—kings and queens, knights and scholars, ancestors immortalized in oil and pride. Between them were glass displays of weapons—ornamental swords, spears with etched blades, and ancient relics sealed behind mana-reinforced cases. Every piece screamed of history and status, but none of it slowed Kai.

He wasn’t here to admire. What did catch his attention, however, were the guards. They were everywhere.

Still, Kai didn’t panic. He didn’t duck, didn’t hide in the shadows. Instead, he used the oldest trick in the book of stealth, Look like you belong. He held his head high, raised his chin slightly and frowned subtly, as if he was mildly annoyed that anyone would dare cross his path. He managed to take steps confidently, and the robes he wore did the rest. He looked like a high noble with somewhere very important to be and absolutely no time to explain himself.

And it worked.

Each time a guard passed by, they didn’t question him. Didn’t stop him. They bowed.

Kai gave the barest nod in return, never breaking stride. He doubted anything would happen even if they asked his identity. But why risk it?

Discretion first. Always.

As he moved deeper, the chatter of other wings faded behind him. He was getting close. Too close, perhaps. Because he encountered more guards.

The relaxed patrols of the outer halls were long gone—these were hardened men, standing sharp at attention. Their eyes swept the halls with focus. Their postures screamed discipline. He could feel the tension building with every step.

And then, as he rounded a final corner, he saw them.

There were five guards who were clustered directly outside a massive carved doorway. One look at it was enough for him to know it was the entrance to King Sullivan’s chambers.

They all stood way too sharp for him to get past without being noticed.

Time for a little magic.

Kai reached into his Mana heart, weaving the spell. He sent the mana down the left corridor beside the guards, shaping it into a whistling draft of cold air.

The effect was immediate.

The wind slithered through the passage like a phantom, and the guards flinched. One rubbed his arm. Another took a half-step away from the wall.

“Did you feel that?”

“Yeah… The wind is chilly tonight.”

“Maybe one of the maids left the windows—”

They whispered, distracted, but he wasted no time listening to them.

Kai bent his knees and launched upward.

The ceilings here—tall, vast, arched like the bones of a cathedral—were perfect for gliding. He soared just beneath the high beams, low enough to avoid brushing against the ceiling, high enough to remain unseen.

A shadow in a castle of gold.

As the guards squinted down the corridor, still murmuring about the sudden gust of cold, Kai glided silently above them.

The spell of [Flight] made no sound, not unless he wanted it to. A small but crucial modification. In his experience, even trained guards almost never looked up. They scanned ahead, maybe behind, sometimes to the side… but the ceiling? Almost never.

By the time one of them tilted their head, Kai was already past. He landed softly in the corridor just beyond them.

The heart of the king’s wing. The place that should have been the most secure in the kingdom. And it was empty. No Knights or Mages.

So the rumors were true. King Sullivan didn’t like to be surrounded. Even here, in the depths of his personal quarters, there were no men stationed, no eyes watching and Kai really appreciated that right now. He moved.

Room after room passed him—doors closed, curtains drawn. He didn’t stop to inspect them. That wasn’t what he was here for. Each turn of the corridor brought him deeper into the king’s sanctum, and yet still… nothing.

Until, finally, he came upon a pair of wide double doors.

Kai slipped through and conjured a small orb of light between his fingers. It drifted up toward the ceiling, casting soft illumination across the chamber. But the room was empty.

He was hoping for the King to be here. But only the royal bed greeted him, too neat to have been used. To the side, there were gilded shelves stacked with books and a polished desk with papers stacked just a little too perfectly.

He frowned. Where is he?

Only one option left.

Kai turned back into the corridor and began retracing his steps, this time watching the walls for the way to the gardens Amara had mentioned. With every hallway he passed, the sheer size of the king’s private wing became more apparent. It was massive. Towering archways. Winding passages. An entire wing of the castle, maybe a fourth of it, all for one man.

And yet… it felt hollow. Like a museum no one visited anymore. All this space, and no one to share it with.

Kai didn’t linger on the thought. He wasn’t here to psychoanalyze a monarch. He was here to find him. And after nearly ten minutes of searching, he finally found the garden.

The stone corridor opened to an arched passage, lined with translucent blue crystal that shimmered faintly in the dark. Beyond it… there were the gardens.

Kai stepped through, and his eyes widened.

It was colder in here, but every breath he took felt fresh, rich with the scent of night-blooming flowers. Before him sprawled a massive garden, alive with greenery that had no right thriving inside stone walls. Mana lamps glowed softly among the trees, illuminating winding paths, a koi pond rippling under the moonlight, and hedges trimmed with almost obsessive care.

Looks like the rumors were true.

King Sullivan loved to tend to his garden. The garden was beautiful—alive in a way the rest of the castle was not. And rare.

His gaze swept over the beds, lingering on a cluster of reddish leaves sprouting from pink-stemmed stalks. His brows rose. Redfire Bloom. It was a rare alchemical plant, difficult to cultivate outside of temperate shadowed zones. He had tried growing it in his greenhouse back in Veralt. But he failed, twice.

Kai stepped closer, inspecting the beautiful structure of the leaves, wondering what sort of soil mix they used here, when a voice rang out behind him.

“You’ve got good eyes. That one took three seasons to stabilize.”

Kai turned instantly, his shoulders tightening—mana coiling in his heart—only to relax a fraction when he saw who it was.

King Sullivan.

He stood a few paces away, hands clasped behind his back, dressed in deep blue robes with golden trim. Behind him, a Knight watched silently, one hand resting lightly on the hilt of his blade.

Kai’s gaze returned to the King. He had changed.

The last time they met, Sullivan had worn a full beard. Now, it was trimmed short. The lines on his face seemed deeper. Dark circles sat under his eyes like bruises earned from sleepless nights. His hair was thinning. Is he even sleeping at all?

Kai dipped into a bow, properly this time.

“Your Majesty.”

Sullivan smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach his tired eyes. “I expected you to come see me once I heard you’d arrived in Hermil. But I must admit…” He looked around the garden and then back at Kai. “I didn’t expect you to sneak into my garden like a ghost. Seems the security around the castle is… lacking.”

He turned, gesturing with his hand. “Knight Roderic here thought you were an assassin.”

The Knight behind him gave Kai a stiff nod. He didn’t relax his stance. Kai didn’t mind.

He arched an eyebrow. “Were you expecting assassins?”

Sullivan chuckled, a short, dry sound. “Maybe. You can never have too many enemies when you’re a ruler.” He stepped closer to one of the plants, brushing a gloved finger across a leaf as he continued, “And do you know what history tells us is the number one reason kings die?”

“I’m guessing it’s not old age.”

“Family,” Sullivan said, with a bitter smile. “Poisoned in their sleep. Stabbed by a trusted cousin. Cast down in coups because someone with your blood thinks they’d do a better job. Then the cycle begins again.”

He looked at Kai with a steady gaze.

“And if it’s not family, then it’s ‘loyal’ advisors. Or proud sons of noble houses who think the realm would thrive under a firmer hand.”

The King paused, a half-smile curling his lips.

“Yes. I expect assassins.”

Kai simply nodded, glancing once more around the garden. The serenity didn’t fool him. “I’m not here to cause trouble,” he said quietly. “You wanted to talk. So… I’m here.”

Sullivan’s eyes searched him for a moment before he asked, “Have you brought it?”

Kai didn’t answer.

He simply turned his gaze toward the Knight—still standing silent, watchful, one hand resting near his blade.

Sullivan followed his eyes and nodded in understanding. “Roderic, give us some time.”

The Knight didn’t argue. With a firm nod, he stepped back, giving Kai one last scrutinizing glance before vanishing through the stone archway that led back into the castle. Now, it was just the two of them.

Silence settled over the garden like a soft fog. Neither of them spoke, and when Kai was about to—

“Why don’t you walk with me, Arzan?” Sullivan said in almost above a whisper. “Our last meeting wasn’t exactly… smooth. But there’s a lot I’d like to say.”

Kai gave a single nod. The King turned and began walking deeper into the garden, and Kai followed, boots crunching gently against the gravel path. They didn’t speak at first.

For five full minutes, only the rustle of leaves and distant hum of mana lamps filled the space.

Kai’s eyes drifted from one section of the garden to the next—each turn revealed something new. Sprawling ferns. Winding vines hugging ivory archways. A narrow stream curling like a silver ribbon between beds of moonflowers. If he squinted, he could almost mistake it for a forest, not a garden.

It was alive. And it was massive. And then, finally, the King spoke.

“It took years to get it to this level.”

“You did this yourself? Just you?”

Sullivan nodded slowly, hands folded behind his back. “One of the few things I could do in peace. Peace was never my companion in the early years of my reign. Nor is it now. But… this,” he gestured to the blooming expanse around them, “this helped. Something about watching things grow. Knowing that your effort isn’t wasted, even if it takes time.”

Kai’s eyes roamed the garden once more. “You’ve done a good job with them.”

And he meant it.

The symmetry of the rows, the precise spacing of the beds, the way each plant was allowed its own space and yet none of it felt wild or overgrown—it all told him the same story.

He’d poured hours into this, and this meant more than just a hobby to the King.

If what he knew was correct, the man was a Mage, but hadn’t known to use a single spell in years. He also knew that King Sullivan hadn’t progressed past the second circle.

Lancephil wasn’t a magocracy.

The King didn’t need to be a mage. It simply helped. Especially when dealing with nobles who valued strength and magic more than bloodlines.

None in the royal family had ever made waves in the arcane arts. And Kai had a feeling King Sullivan hadn’t used a single spell to tend to this garden. He did it the old way. With hands and time and care.

Still, the King’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Even if I’ve poured all my life into this place,” Sullivan said softly, “there are still plants that rot.”

He pointed ahead.

Kai followed his gaze and spotted it.

A wilted thing tucked beneath a large, flowering bush. Its leaves had paled, curling inward at the edges. Stems had sagged, brown creeping through green like a slow infection.

“I’ve cared for that one for twenty years,” Sullivan said. “It’s called a Moorshade Lily. Beautiful when it blooms. Do you know what’s interesting about it?”

“What?”

“There’s no guarantee how long it will live,” the King replied. “You can give it perfect soil, perfect light. Water it every morning. Protect it from frost. But one day, it just… rots.”

He crouched slightly beside it, brushing a finger near the decayed leaf.

“These can grow for a year. Or a hundred. All up to fate. No Mage or scholar has figured out the pattern. It just happens.”

He stood again and turned to Kai.

“The kingdom is very much like that right now,” he said quietly. “It rotted when I wasn’t looking. When I trusted others to tend it. And now?”

His voice dropped a note colder.

“I think there’s no saving it. Not as it is. Sometimes, you have to tear the plant out from the roots, throw it away… and start again.”

Kai looked at him for a long moment before asking, “So you’ve given up on it?”

Sullivan’s eyes lingered on the garden path ahead. Then he sighed.

“The current kingdom?” He paused, then gave a slight nod. “Yes. But… I haven’t given up on what it could become. I believe it can still grow. With the right person tending to it.”

His eyes met Kai’s.

“Have you brought the medallion?”

Kai reached into his robe, fingers brushing the cloth-wrapped object. Slowly, he pulled it out, unwrapping it as moonlight coming from the glass roof caught the copper edge.

He handed it over.

King Sullivan took it with both hands, turning it over with a look that was equal parts awe and weariness.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen it,” he murmured. “You must’ve gone through quite a bit due to this.”

“A few people tried to kill me. Came close too.”

The King laughed. “And yet here you are. Alive. Stronger than ever. You really do have your mother’s blood in you.”

He turned the medallion in his palm, and looked up.

“So… what do you want to do with it?”

The question hung between them like a blade.

“That medallion is proof. With it, you could ask anything of me. Even the throne.” He said the word without an ounce of hesitation. “Do you want that?”

***

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