The shack groaned with every gust of wind, wooden boards creaking. Faint candlelight fought against the shadows, and rats skittered across the warped floor, dodging puddles of rainwater. The stench of mildew and rust hung in the air.
Prince Charles paced in silence.
Each step grew louder. The heels of his boots clicked hard against rotting wood, echoing. His coat frayed, torn at the edges; its embroidery stained, still held the sharp angles of nobility. But it was a ghost of what it once was.
"You know," Charles finally said. "As your partner, I'd appreciate being told the entire plan before it falls apart."
Aucteros didn't lift his gaze from the book in his lap. The flickering candlelight reflected off the gold-trimmed pages.
Partner? That was what he called himself. Curious.
That's right. Willow has a party. A fellowship. A circle of bonds. Then I will create my own.
Aucteros turned a page. Charles was muttering.
Once I save this world, I will seek others.
Together, we will do my God's work. Save as many worlds as we can.
"I asked you a question," Charles said, sharpening. "How did he resist me?"
"Who?"
"Willow," Charles hissed. "The weird elf. Fire incarnate. The one you despise. He should've bent to my command like the others. He was within range."
Aucteros' gut twisted. He'd reviewed Sinephilim's powers in his book. At first, she had only shown high magical resistance. But now the entry has changed. As if fate bent to her will.
"The woman who was with him bears a blessing once thought to be myth," Aucteros murmured.
Charles stopped pacing. "You mean her, the demon queen? What blessing does she have?"
Aucteros nodded slowly. "Purification."
He watched the word hit Charles like a slap.
Charles turned slowly, his face unreadable. But his voice dropped, almost reverent.
"That's impossible."
"Apparently not."
Charles stepped closer. "Purification is divine. No mortal could have it; it's forbidden. Even in the deepest vaults of the royal archive, it's mentioned only in riddles and poetry. Blessing of purification… the one the Goddess used to cleanse the world of the great dark. Is she a Goddess?"
"An odd assumption," Aucteros said. "Regardless, she used it, disrupted Viir's work and cleansed Veronica and Willow. Burned the corruption from the very air."
Charles's hand clenched. "That's not the only miscalculation. That thing. The red one."
"Viir the one who takes the form of a fairy," Aucteros said. "Rhenvar's loyal companion."
"Gods above what is that thing? I still had some of those guards under my command when they died. And that scream…" He shuddered. "How are we supposed to fight that?"
Aucteros didn't answer.
We can't, she is far stronger than anything I've ever encountered. It seems with the seal broken, she is free. Rhenvar was undoubtedly intelligent keeping her under control.
Charles sneered. "With all that knowledge, are you even worthy of it?"
Silence fell between them.
"Viir was never a variable I considered," Aucteros admitted. "An unfortunate consequence of the ballroom scheme. Rhenvar will likely keep her contained. But there's something else…"
He turned to another page.
"It seems your father has released him. Another setback."
Just how are they achieving this? Is the demon queen's presence disrupting the book itself?
"My father…" Charles's voice grew cold.
Aucteros glanced up. "Still brooding?"
Charles's eyes filled with anger. "He is no father of mine."
Ah. There it was.
Charles stepped into the candlelight, and for a moment, the shadows carved his face into something cruel.
His speech continued.
"The bastard son of King Gerald. A shame on the royal family. Hidden from court. Paraded only when convenient. Newly legitimized. Never given any credit. Only tolerated because the Queen did not hate him."
"Was wealth not enough?" Aucteros asked.
Charles' voice cracked. "Theodore was always heir. The golden boy. The chosen. Even after all my work, my loyalty, my sacrifices. So no, it was never enough. And I'm older."
"You believe killing them will fill that void?" Aucteros asked.
"No," Charles whispered. "I'm just sick of their two faced lies."
If only he knew how much the queen truly loved him. A pity.
Aucteros gave the faintest smile. "What an odd grievance, are you sure this is what you want?"
You dug your grave, so I guess it's a worthless question.
Charles turned away, jaw tight. "We move forward. My father and brother. Both die at the New Year's Festival. With them gone and Felicia under my control, we'll have access to the Worldheart."
And that will solidify your fate.
Aucteros' fingers hovered over the book. "Have you seen the royal festival plans?"
"Yes," Charles said. "High security. But not like the wedding. That's sealed tight. Even with my blessing, there's no way in."
"Correct," Aucteros nodded. "The wedding is too well protected. Royal priests. Holy wards. Null zones. We'd be powerless."
And yet… The book insists the Worldheart only reveals itself during a royal wedding. How utterly inconvenient.
"Which leaves the festival," Charles said. "The only opportunity when the city lets down its guard."
Aucteros turned to another page.
"If we fail," he said softly, "we abandon this world."
Charles raised an eyebrow. "Just like that?"
"Survival is everything. Victory is nothing if you don't live to claim it."
The prince chuckled bitterly. "You sound like a man used to running."
"I've never run," Aucteros said coldly. "I migrate."
Charles gave a slow nod. "And after this world?"
"We will build a new party," Aucteros said. "Others like us. I'll find them with this book… the same way I found you."
Charles studied him. Long. Silent.
Then-
"Tell me the truth. Did you really plan all of this?"
Aucteros smiled. "Of course."
"And me? Did you know I'd join?"
"I knew you were born with purpose in your heart," he said. "All I had to do was feed it. If there is one thing I knew you wanted it was power, here or elsewhere."
Charles smirked. "Fair enough."
The wind howled through the cracks in the walls.
"I look forward to seeing this world end," Charles whispered. "I hate this place."
Aucteros' eyes gleamed with something sinister.
"Then let us prepare. The banners will rise. The people will cheer. And your family will be dead."