"Finally arrived," he sighed.

The horse didn't stop until it reached the foot of the immense tower. The prince tied up his steed, which he had named Vïatas, which means "strong" in a forgotten language. He looked at the watch floating above his shoulder; he was an hour early. Astós gathered his courage and entered the grand building, the one emitting a negative aura.

When he pushed the doors of the tower, only one large staircase lay before him. He was tired, but he had no choice but to continue. So, he climbed one step, then another, and continued for what seemed like an eternity to him. A time that passed too slowly for his liking. But when he checked the time on his shoulder, the clock was there to bring him back to reason.

After half an hour, he heard sounds, and they were very close to his position. So, despite the muscles of his thighs and calves calling for help, and his racing heart, he decided not to stop.

Three minutes before the allotted time, he stumbled into a huge, empty hall that reminded him of the one where all those innocents had been killed.

An immense black panther stood in the middle of it. Astós recoiled when it opened its mouth not to roar, but to speak.

"I almost waited forever!" said the beast in a voice that Astós recognized very well.

The black feline (which incidentally was twice the normal size of this animal) stretched, then, in a whirlwind of smoke, transformed into a Dnophos.

"Hey Sklerótes," Astós greeted with disdain. "I made it. I arrived in less than seventy-two hours."

The creature of darkness pouted.

"Yes, that's true, but you disobeyed me. You used a horse to get here! I specifically told you 'YOU TAKE YOUR FEET,' and what did you do? You didn't take your feet," she added, emphasizing the "not."

"But, it was impossible anyway to go on foot, what was the point?" Astós asked.

"To amuse myself," she hastened to say.

"Oh, come on," grumbled Astós.

"Tutututu, shh," she cut him off. "I'm going to make you pay for your disobedience tomorrow, but for now, go sleep. You look like you've been dug up. Your room is one floor up."

And Astós dragged his feet without another word to his dormitory. When he entered for the first time, he said to himself:

"It's dark, it's empty, I feel like we're going to have fun..."

Indeed, the room was entirely empty, except for a bathroom isolated from the room, a small bed, and a bedside table.

When he collapsed on the mattress, it didn't move an inch, hard as a rock.

As he sank into sleep, someone knocked on the door of his room. 

It opened slightly, enough for a body to slip through.

In the darkness, a presence leaned over Astós's bedside and called him in a whisper.

"Astós, Astós!" the voice whispered.

He opened his eyes slightly and immediately recognized his interlocutor. He sat up, bewildered.

"Endiáthetos! But what are you doing here? I told you to flee, to... To rule in my place. How did you find my trail?" he asked, wide-eyed.

Endiáthetos pressed his index finger to his plump lips and continued with a smile:

"Shh, not too loud, don't ask questions, everything's fine. And look! I brought you company!"

He turned to the door and told "the company" to enter. A graceful lady peeked her head into the doorway, followed by a little boy and a man on their heels.

"Hey there, little one..."

"Big brother!" shouted a six-year-old boy.

The man smiled from the back of the room. Astós, tears in his eyes, spoke again in a hoarse voice.

"But, Dad, Hekura, Adelphos, you... You're dead! I saw you, drained of your blood, in the reception hall, you were... All on the ground, lifeless."

They looked at each other, then scrutinized their elder's eyes.

"What are you talking about?" asked his stepmother. "We're here, everything's fine! Where did you get all these nonsensical ideas?"

"You're talking nonsense! Ha ha!" laughed the little brother, hugging the prince's legs.

"I really thought it was over!" joked the prince, a tear streaming down his cheek.

Astós tenderly stroked his little brother's hair when his father, whom he had almost forgotten, spoke from a dark corner of the room.

"But it's your fault," he murmured.

Astós looked up at him.

"What? Sorry?"

"You failed your promise. You swore to protect us, but you ran away."

"What? No, I..." the young man tried to justify himself, confusion in his eyes.

"You did. You left, you took Endiá, and you left us under the protection of our clumsy guards. You slipped through the net. You were supposed to die, not us."

"But, no, you're mistaken, I..."

"AND WHAT ABOUT KYRIA THEN?" he intoned. "Do you perhaps think she would have agreed with the decision you made? Do you think she would have wanted to miss ten years of your life, of HER life, to escape the misfortune? It's unfair, son, unfair, do you hear?"

Astós lowered his head and took on a grave expression.

"Yes. I did what had to be done. I had a decision to make, I made it, period. I didn't choose for all of you to die, but it happened. Life is unfair, and compared to you, I will have to live without the people I love. That's unfair."

Then he realized something.

"You would never talk to me like that. You're not here."

A smirk formed on the father's face; they were alone in the room, the other Basileus had deserted.

"No, that's true, you're talking to yourself, Astós, you're fighting against your own doubts, and your confidence wavers. You're guilty."

He woke up with a start, covered in sweat, panting, his face bathed in tears.

He ran his hand over his face, internally cursing the harsh truth. He felt responsible for the deaths of all those poor people. He looked out the window, which cast a bluish light into the room. The time was uncertain; it was still too dark to get an idea.

The prince stepped out of his room on tiptoe, bare feet against the cold parquet floor. The stairs had disappeared, yesterday, Sklerótes had made them disappear. He had only been there to annoy the boy.

At the end of the corridor, a ray of light filtered under a door, and murmurs escaped from it. He could recognize Sklerótes's voice, but her interlocutor was completely unknown. The unfamiliar voice was deep, hoarse, raspy, and trembling. But it was also very firm, serious, and self-assured. Astós could describe it more and more precisely, with every step that brought him closer to the slightly open door.

When he was only a few centimeters away, he pressed himself against the door, ear against the oak wood. The man had taken the floor.

"...very extreme, madame, what you asked for," he was saying.

"Do you have a problem with my methods, you insignificant sorcerer? Have you already forgotten who dominates who here?"

"No, madame," his voice tone had lowered.

"Good," said Sklerótes firmly.

"Nevertheless, you have done a lot of harm, just to get the boy back."

"You know very well that I had no choice, Palaïós. He absolutely had to follow me, no matter the cost. He wouldn't have believed me if I had told him the truth from the beginning; there are far too many preconceptions about my kind. How do you think he would have reacted if I had shown up, a white flag in hand, asking 'Hey, you, the prince, I need you to survive, can you help me? And by the way, I'm a blood-sucking creature of darkness who just slaughtered all the guests at your little ball, including your family! What do you say? Best friends for life?'?"

Palaïós emitted a disapproving growl.

Astós's nose, still hidden behind the door, itched severely. After a long struggle with himself, he let out a colossal sneeze, one like never before, and of course, it had to happen while he was eavesdropping on the person who had total control over his life...

"ACHOO!"

Silence filled the room; Astós, both hands pressed against his mouth, could barely breathe. He was overcome with a shiver, and a shadow briefly veiled his eyes. A clawed hand, jet black, landed abruptly on his shoulder. The young man jumped so hard that his heart skipped several beats. A voice very close to his ear whispered:

"Hey little prince! We caught a cold?" joked the Dnophos.

Astós grumbled. Sklerótes menacingly grazed a claw on the boy's face. He held his breath.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

The boy brushed away the creature's paw with a dismissive gesture.

"You owe me explanations. And I won't leave until I hear them."

"Do you think you're in a position to decide?"

"Absolutely," affirmed Astós. "Furthermore, it seems to me that you need me for some reason or another, so you can't harm me. I'm listening, explain this survival story to me. And why would I need you?"

Sklerótes cursed in a language Astós didn't understand, a series of clicks, sounding like an angry dolphin. He smirked. The creature opened the door, visibly annoyed.

"Well, come in, Mr. I'm-A-Prince-And-Know-Everything-So-You-Can't-Do-Anything-To-Me."