In the magnificent reception hall, prepared exclusively for this day, chandeliers adorned with intricate details and gold illuminated the joyous, festive smiles of the guests.

Hundreds of conversations filled the room, silly grins plastered on faces usually so serious, the aroma of appetizing dishes, and an abundance of mouth-watering delicacies—this was how the royal family had envisioned this gathering. The result exceeded their expectations. It was sublime. Well, "sublime" might even be an understatement!

The guests were delighted, glasses of champagne were filled and emptied in succession. The wine, too, seemed to please the crowd; its scent was detectable at every table, much to the dismay of the younger ones. Wherever one turned their head, servants could be seen, struggling but proud as they carried the heavy, delicious dishes crafted by the royal chefs to the long oak tables. The staggering number of empty plates being whisked back and forth through the room was also hard to miss.

The nobles mingled, regardless of their rank, in a rare opportunity to forge new connections and form unexpected alliances. Some circles, however, remained more private, like that of the royal family, dining at a separate table with their closest confidants. Most of the younger members of the group were gossiping and exchanging the latest court news. That night, they had chosen to hold back a little; their parents had answered the call.

You may have guessed by now, it was the last generation of the Basileus family, the royal family, hosting the evening's festivities. The young Basileus siblings were very skilled at this. They possessed several precious assets that made their receptions grandiose and unforgettable for anyone.

Their first advantage was their immense castle, where they lived together as brothers and sisters. The palace was so vast and monumental that three theaters could have fit inside it. It was already splendid without any decoration, with its many delicately sculpted statues in white stone, its majestic fountains bordering the courtyard that, somehow, made the water jets dance, offering a beautiful display to anyone who gazed upon it. With its magnificent architecture and golden-domed roofs, the edifice was already exceptional. Now imagine it adorned from top to bottom, decorated with fresh bouquets of flowers and divinely furnished. It was unbelievable.

Their second major advantage was owning the vast lands surrounding their colossal residence. These lands more than met the food needs of the castle and its residents. The surplus ingredients allowed the siblings to frequently host dining events. Thanks to them and the fertile soil, the population never went without, and they adored the young Basileus partly for this reason. And, let's be honest, food brings people together.

It was said that once, when the country was at war with a neighboring land, the Basileus family learned of a terrible famine on their enemy's side. It was awful—families, if they were lucky, had only a crust of bread for the day, shared between four. The death toll was horrendous, unthinkable. Despite being somewhat troubled by the ongoing conflict along their western border, the royal family decided, against all expectations, to send five tons of food and ingredients to the starving population. The fighting stopped the very next day, and the two kingdoms became close allies from that point on.

See! That's exactly what I was telling you: food brings people together.

Their third and final great asset was their sense of style.

Yes, the Basileus siblings knew how to throw parties and gatherings. They were talented; that's all there was to it. Not much more needed to be said.

With the festivities well underway, and night barely having fallen, a servant dressed in a tailcoat appeared. One of the Basileus family signaled him over. He whispered a few words into the servant's ear, who then respectfully walked away.

The servant climbed, with some effort, onto a small platform next to the grand royal table. He cleared his throat loudly, glanced at the monarchs, and began his speech in a loud and clear voice:

"Ladies and gentlemen, good evening!"

The audience fell silent, intrigued by the sudden announcement. The man continued.

"We hope your evening has started well and that you're enjoying the banquet! The hosts pray their efforts have been worthwhile."

He paused, and the audience erupted into long applause.

"Their Royal Highnesses, the Basileus, have asked me to inform you of the next part of the evening. Indeed, the next course of your feast will take place outdoors, in the gardens. A surprise awaits you there in just a few minutes!"

The crowd regarded the man with disdain. People exchanged glances between the speaker and the royalty. Whispers rose among the assembly, with some recurring comments circulating:

"But it's pitch black outside... Aren't they afraid of...?"

"Yes, it's true. We could be attacked, and we'd have no way to defend ourselves; it would be a massacre..."

A bold guest near the front raised his hand, stepped closer to the servant, and asked the question that was on everyone's mind:

"Have you made any provisions against the Dnophos? Aren't you afraid of an attack?" his voice creaked.

The servant, clearly unsure himself, turned toward the Basileus family. He caught the eye of the eldest prince, Astós, who immediately took control of the situation. He pushed his massive wooden chair back with a creak, stood up, and locked eyes with the worried guest. Astós responded with a broad smile, dissolving the concerns of his audience in the process.

"Listen to me, all of you! I know you're worried about the possibility of a Dnophos attack."

A deathly silence fell over the room. A man coughed in the back.

"However, you're also aware that these... things haven't reappeared in years, so why would they now?"

An awkward pause followed. Astós pressed on, needing to reassure them.

"All I ask is that you enjoy yourselves and set aside your fears for one evening. You can do that, I'm sure of it! So, my friends, relax, and I promise everything will be fine."

His voice was deep, yet smooth, and as he spoke, everyone remained silent. All were hanging on the young prince's every word.

He shone in his polished black armor, bearing his family's crest, which he would soon inherit as their leader. His tousled jet-black hair gave him a rebellious air, his dimples were charming, and his smile was devastating. And his eyes... oh, his magnificent eyes! They were of such striking beauty! Their bright blue pierced through anyone who met them. He was handsome, radiant, the perfect heir. Everyone adored him.

His younger sister, Princess Kyria, sitting to his right, stood up as well and threw her arms around his neck. She shouted to the crowd:

"Everyone outside! Let the feast continue! Woohoo!"

The rest of the family burst into laughter with her, and all the guests made their way to the palace gardens, a little less concerned now.

When everyone had exited, the lights dimmed, and faint murmurs could be heard. A few seconds passed, but nothing happened. The whispers grew a little louder.

In the near-total darkness, as the guests grew impatient, the orchestra, which had discreetly positioned itself at the rear of the gardens, began to play its grand piece.

Everyone fell silent to listen and appreciate the magnificent symphony that filled the night. It was a soft yet captivating melody. One was carried away by its power, its presence, its grace.

After a few measures, a high-pitched whistle sounded in the sky. Few noticed it at first, but all turned when the clouds lit up, and a volley of magnificent fireworks brightened the night.

The sound of gasps of surprise and wonder filled the air as the Basileus family, standing near the doors, smiled. This pyromusical display had delighted their guests. The goal was achieved. It was magnificent.

As the last burst of flames faded away, everyone held their breath and shuddered. A piercing scream echoed in the near-darkness. No one said a word.

The entire crowd turned toward the Basileus family.

Kyria had grabbed Astós by the sleeve, her eyes speaking volumes. Filled with tears and fixed on the forest, they reflected pure terror. The youngest of the siblings, a mere three-year-old, rushed into the arms of his nurse and burst into tears. His cries, like the fluttering wings of the most majestic butterfly, spread unease and fear among the guests.

Chaos crept into the crowd, spreading among the guests with surprising ease.

Astós, aware of the overwhelming panic that could spiral out of control, quickly regained his composure. He squared his shoulders, puffed out his chest, and took a deep breath.

He spoke with confidence:

"Listen to me, everyone! I want everyone to go back inside and stay there under any circumstances. Guards! I need half a dozen men with me."

His soldiers didn't hesitate and obeyed. Astós then turned to his brother.

"Endiáthetos, brother, you're coming too."

The young man hesitated for a moment and stumbled over a step that caught his foot. He collapsed heavily to the ground. He stammered:

"What? No! I... I can't come! I have... I have something to do inside... No, I can't come with you!"

Nevertheless, he didn't move. Astós resumed his commands.

"I need two men to stay with my family and my father. Everyone else, ensure the safety of the people! Lock the doors and reinforce the

windows. Understood? Move!"

The soldiers and the crowd complied without hesitation. And in just a few moments, the garden was cleared, leaving only the prince and his guards. He looked to the forest.

Under the starry sky, the crowd rushed inside the palace, and the guards closed the massive doors behind them, leaving only Astós, his troop, and his brother, still sitting on the ground. The heir decisively approached his brother, grabbed him by the bicep, and helped him up. He deliberately jostled his younger sibling to get him to pull himself together.

"Come on, Endiá! Get up! You're 15 years old. I've spared you up until now, but it's high time you join me on an expedition. You'll experience the thrill and adrenaline that comes with it."

Endiáthetos let out a sigh of annoyance and followed his brother to the stables, dragging his feet and huffing repeatedly to show his older brother just how little he wanted to go.

Astós ran an exasperated hand over his face and began walking, his small group following behind him.

"We can't have a moment's peace around here!" he muttered under his breath.

The straw crunched with every step of a boot, filling the silence of the night. The men weren't talking; Astós was focused, carefully fastening his breastplate over his muscular chest. He did the same for Endiáthetos, who still refused to show the slightest bit of enthusiasm.

"Move your big butt, or you're on your own to finish putting on your armor," the heir said quite seriously.

His brother still making no effort, he loudly dropped the armor pieces at Endiá's feet. Endiá immediately expressed his displeasure.

"Astós! You can't be serious?"

Receiving no reaction, he muttered under his breath.

"You stubborn idiot..."

From the back of the stable, the elder shouted:

"Watch your language, Endiá!"

Another round of grumbling and insults followed, but that didn't stop the soldiers from getting ready amidst the outbursts of profanity.

Once the horses were out, the stable hand handed the reins to each of them. The leather straps slid into Astós' slightly calloused hands. The prince mounted his jet-black steed and waited for the rest of his unit to do the same. The stable hand, once his tasks were done, ran back inside the palace. Astós nudged his horse with his heels, and it neighed before advancing in a steady clatter of hooves, soon followed by the rest of the troop.

They traveled a short distance at a brisk gallop, with the eldest prince leading the group. He brought his men to the edge of the forest and had them all dismount from their magnificent steeds. The prince assigned one of his soldiers to guard the horses and instructed him not to wander off. He grabbed the lantern one of his warriors handed him and once again took the lead.

He made sure his younger brother was following closely, flanked by his subordinates, and advanced between the trees, relying only on his instincts. Fine branches cracked under their heavy steps, and the scent of chaste tree leaves permeated the air.

In the dim light, they moved cautiously, their lantern providing little illumination, leaving them with no other choice.

Astós' instincts failed him that night.

After about an hour of searching as a group but finding nothing, Endiáthetos, who had recently resumed his complaints, finally voiced his opinion on his older brother's strategy.

"Astós, you can see we're not finding anything like this! We need to split up, that way we'll cover more ground and sweep the area more efficiently."

The prince, realizing the truth of this, slowed his pace and raised a question that needed to be addressed.

"And how do you plan to see anything in the dark?"

Endiá raised an eyebrow as if to say, "Are you kidding me?" He pointed to a rather thick branch on the ground and said:

"What's that?"

"Um... a branch?" Astós replied, skeptical.

The younger brother picked up the piece of wood, tore a strip from his cloak, and tied it to the end. Then, he jogged back a little to stand in front of the oldest soldier. He held out his hand.

"Please, lend me your flask," he said sternly.

"Me... but, what flask?" the old soldier stammered innocently.

"Come on, don't make a fuss, I don't have time for this," he scolded.

Reluctantly, the old soldier handed over his bottle. Endiáthetos thanked him eagerly and returned to his brother's side, holding the stick. Astós gave the old man a disapproving look but quickly turned his attention back to Endiá.

He poured a bit of alcohol onto the cloth and repeated the process for each man. No one said a word and all watched him.

When he was done, he looked Astós in the eyes.

"What do you see now?" he asked.

The heir smiled mischievously and chuckled. Endiá furrowed his brows.

"Can I know what's so funny in your eyes?"

The tall, dark-haired prince, a dimple at the corner of his mouth, affectionately ruffled his younger brother's blond hair.

"I didn't know there was a brain in there!" he teased.

Endiáthetos grumbled (again). Astós regained his seriousness.

"Alright, everyone grab a torch and spread out. If you encounter any problems, whistle. Or shout. Or both, we'll see!"

He set fire to the pieces of wood and skillfully handed them to each of his comrades. They followed orders and dispersed.

Astós continued straight ahead. The leather of his boots creaked with each step, making a slight noise that disturbed the surrounding silence. He carefully stepped over successive tangles of thick roots.

Five minutes. Ten minutes. Twenty minutes. Still nothing.

Doubtful about the effectiveness of the search, the eldest prince stopped. He roughly swept his surroundings with his makeshift torch and let his gaze linger on his palace, which he could see from his position.

His thoughts wandered, no longer paying attention to anything.

The reception they had hosted for the nobility had been truly beautiful. But perhaps they should have used lilies in the bouquets instead of Japanese azaleas. And they were missing some silverware. Maybe he should visit the ceramist one of these days. He could order some of those lovely plates he had seen in the shop window. And the gold cups he had engraved would have pleased Kyria. Kyria... was she alright?

Astós was abruptly brought back to reality by piercing screams, followed by attempts at whistling and cries for help echoing through the forest.

His heart skipped a beat when he recognized his brother's slightly hoarse voice. His torch fell and extinguished. He turned around faster than he ever had and dashed towards Endiá's high-pitched cries. He skillfully dodged all the obstacles on the ground and used his sword to clear the path of anything that got in his way.

Astós ran. He was shouting too.

"Endiá, I'm coming! Don't move!"

He could easily follow his brother's trail, who kept whistling. After a few seconds that felt like an eternity, Astós finally reached his brother, panting. The young man was on the ground, his backside covered in dust and decomposing leaves. Endiá looked up at Astós with panic in his eyes. The younger brother opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

In the near-darkness, Astós could only see his brother, sitting on the ground, perfectly fine. Fueled by a mix of anger and relief, he helped him up and then shook him roughly by the shoulders, shouting in his face.

"Are you out of your mind? Are you completely crazy or what? You're insane, I swear! Why scream like that?! That signal is reserved exclusively for emergencies! Falling into the dust is NOT an emergency! I thought something terrible had happened with all your screaming! Don't you ever pull something like this again! Now explain yourself! And I hope it's not just one of your childish tantrums!"

Frustrated, Endiáthetos shrugged off his older brother's destructive grip. He stepped forward decisively, making Astós take a step back. Astós raised an eyebrow.

"If you'd let me speak... Maybe you'd understand why I reacted this way," Endiá said hesitantly.

"I'm listening! Speak!" his brother stormed.

Endiáthetos, shoulders forward, holding his torch in his right hand, illuminated the area behind him, initially saying nothing. He moved aside to give his elder a chance to see. Astós's face gradually fell, and his expression darkened.

"Here," the younger brother finally said.

Astós's eyes flickered between his brother and the reason for his screams. He felt a bit ashamed for having treated him so roughly. Unfortunately, his rather large ego prevented him from apologizing.

"I told you I didn't want to come!" Endiá implored.

"Well, at least we found what we were looking for!" Astós said.

"I found it, you mean," Endiáthetos corrected him.

"Yes, fine, it's the same," the elder grumbled.

Endiá shot his brother a scathing look. The heavy knot in his stomach refused to budge. He thought he knew what it was, but hoped he was wrong. The young man swallowed his bile with difficulty and addressed his brother, who had crouched next to the body.

"Is he... dead?"

"Yes," Astós replied, focused.

"Do you know what did this to him?"

Endiá pointed at the corpse with his finger. He noted its poor condition. The deceased had a beard and was stocky. You could guess his average height and perhaps his previously rounded build. Why "previously"? Quite simply because he was no longer like that. The body was streaked with wrinkles, its skin had lost all color and was almost translucent. Beneath the skin, only the bones were visible, with the old clothes, once well-fitting, now hanging loosely on the skeletal frame. And despite this peculiar appearance, there wasn't a trace of blood around him. Nothing at all.

Astós hesitated for a moment before answering.

"I have a theory. But it won't please anyone," he said in a faint voice.

"Hmm."

The other soldiers, who had arrived during Astós's examination of the body, wore expressions as shocked as Endiá's had been moments earlier.

In the silence and darkness of the night, the soldiers, each holding a torch, held their breath, waiting for the heir's verdict. They all knew what was coming, but if no one spoke it out loud, maybe it wasn't real? Just a very long, very realistic nightmare?

Unfortunately for them, it was all too real, and Astós confirmed it.

"The Dnophos are back, my friends."

Silence.

The soldiers and Astós huddled closer together and began discussing in hushed tones, leaving Endiáthetos on the sidelines. No need to distress him with this; it was better to let the adults handle it.

For reasons he couldn't quite understand, the younger brother's gaze was drawn to the East Tower of the palace, which was barely visible from here. His stomach knotted again, more tightly, painfully. He had a bad feeling. His body had reacted faster than his mind, and once his brain caught up, Endiá interrupted the group's low murmurs. He grabbed his elder's sleeve like a little boy and stammered in a trembling voice.

"It's hungry. It wasn't enough. The castle—we gave it a feast, Astós!"

A wrinkle crossed Astós's forehead as his gaze shifted from his brother to the body to the castle. He took a trembling breath, grabbed his brother by the arm, a torch in the other hand, and charged toward the palace. He shouted final orders to his subordinates.

"Deal with the body! Then return to the castle! Stay outside until we come for you!"

It was certainly a bit slower on foot than on horseback, but adrenaline made things easier. Astós now held his brother's hand; Endiá, who was less enduring, was hyperventilating. But both knew they couldn't stop. It might already be too late, but nothing was certain, so they had to do everything they could and get there quickly.

The heavy armor they wore clanged and creaked with every movement, surrounding the two young men with deafening noise. The heavy knot in their stomachs tortured them with pain.

Their feet were bleeding, from the thorns that sometimes tore through the leather of their boots and the uncomfortable soles—each step was a torment. But again, no stopping.

The residence was there, in front of them. Astós released his younger brother's hand and completed the journey with a tremendous burst of speed, kicking up a fine cloud of dust. Endiá immediately stopped, rushing into a bush to vomit his guts.

Astós's blood ran cold when he reached the doors. No longer needing his torch, he drove it into the ground and extinguished the flames. He turned back to the entrance and stifled a cry. What he saw was far from reassuring. The doors were locked, but barely anything remained... They had been forced open, destroyed. The gaping opening no longer protected anything. The prince heard no sound from inside the castle. His heart skipped a beat.

He gathered his remaining strength and entered the palace. The hole in the door forced him to climb over the seventy centimeters that remained attached to the ground. Astós dropped inside the residence with agility, his armor making only a slight clinking noise.

The interior was almost intact, but the candles were out, and the hall was lit only by the candelabras from other rooms. Astós scanned the floor, not daring to look ahead, where the reception hall lay.

He listened again, hoping to hear any sound, any word. Nothing.

He steeled himself and lifted his head, forcing himself to think of nothing. He then rushed toward the grand reception hall, trotting in and sweeping the room with his gaze.

This reception hall, crowded with people,

crowded with the dead.