"Your Majesty, please accept this tribute from the Wyler clan."

Hours had passed since the Tryda started, but Yoongi still saw no end to the line of people stretching from the dais to the doors of the throne room and beyond. It was an infinite cycle of tribute after tribute, ranging from sacks of grain to stacks of gold, from rich to poor.

It was boring as usual, but today, Yoongi's mind wandered elsewhere because of the incident with the servants and the encounter with Orion. When he traced his gaze down the line of people, he spotted Orion standing at the golden doors, holding a silk-wrapped gift in his hands. It looked like a sword based on its shape, but Yoongi could care less. It was probably another "exquisite masterpiece forged in the Mines of Haren itself." Dull and awful. As everything from Orion was.

"Your Majesty, a tribute from the Orina clan."

Yoongi must've been staring off again because the last person was halfway out of the throne room, and the next was already offering his tribute. This was how the entire day had been, which was troublesome because he needed to concentrate and choose the Prince's Jewel.

Every tribute belonged to the king except for one Yoongi selected. That was the Prince's Jewel. It was a great honor for the house chosen but a pain for him. All the nobles offered gold and fancy weaponry, while the commoners brought food. Yoongi didn't have a single interest in gold or weapons, and the commoners needed the food more than him. It was a burden he wished he didn't have to deal with.

Another person kneeled before the dais and said the same string of words Yoongi had heard for the past five hours. All he desired was for it to end. He didn't need a Prince's Jewel, and as far as he knew, he didn't need to be here.

All he ever did was sit next to the king on the dais and watch the knights carry the tributes away to the storage rooms. He never spoke, moved, or listened unless he chose the Jewel, but that was only once. For the most part, he just sat in silence, his back straight and his face emotionless. Being near the king was a risk itself, but sitting beside him under his scrutiny? May Faestuna have mercy.

Another commoner kneeled before the dais, and Yoongi searched for something to occupy his mind. The servant materialized before his eyes again, but he pushed that thought away. He pondered the experience the entire duration of the Tryda. The only explanation for his illusion that made sense was that he didn't take his pill. Though if it was truly his pill, his senses would be heightened, and his head would spin. But there was nothing abnormal.

And illusions were never a symptom. Yoongi sighed. Thinking about it anymore would make him implode, so he left his problems for later and trailed his eyes down the line of people again. Nothing had changed, of course, but when he was just about to reach Orion, a chill spread from his fingers to the rest of his body. It was the same sensation he felt when Orion had brushed past him after their conversation in the halls.

Freezing, he scanned the last couple of people. The first person was an old man, the second a young boy, and after—

Tremors spread through his body as he stared at a girl with sun-kissed skin, typical of residents of Faxterra. A ragged scarf hung around her neck, flowing over her tattered clothes and tribute covered with cloth. There was something familiar about her that itched at the back of Yoongi's mind the longer his eyes lingered. It was as if he was entranced. He couldn't turn away because she resembled. . . her. His nightmare. His bane. His curse.

However, it wasn't only that. The girl's face flickered and transformed into the servant's for a split second, making Yoongi twitch. The resemblance was uncanny, but it was an illusion.

It had to be.

All he could focus on was the girl. Before, he could feel the passage of time and notice his lack of assertiveness, but now, all he saw was the girl. Everything around him was smeared into black, and sounds became mute as his eyes were drawn to her, to her tribute resting in her hands.

Even though it was wrapped in cloth, Yoongi felt something unusual when he saw it. It was the shape of a sword, but unlike Orion's, there was something. . . more that demanded his attention. It was inexplicable, and a prickling numbness flowed through his blood, soothing him and tunneling his vision on the sword. Nothing existed except that tribute.

The numbness in his blood grew stronger as the sword came closer and closer. He imagined pulling the blade from its scabbard, unsheathing it, glimpsing the reflection of himself. A reflection tinged with red. Blood. Death. Stop.

"Your Majesty, I present to you an heirloom of the House of Taran."

The girl kneeled before the dais, unwrapping her tribute and lifting it above her head. It was a swordstick with a prominent handle decorated like a dragon. There was nothing about its features that made it appear special, but there was this feeling that was. . . familiar.

Before he could stop himself, Yoongi pushed to his feet and padded across the dais to the girl. The whole throne room fell silent and buzzed with anticipation as he picked the swordstick up and unsheathed it in one fluid motion. The blade was red—an unusual dark red. This wasn't forged in Bellum. It didn't have the same aura as the weapons Yoongi owned; instead, it radiated its own light.

"You say this is an heirloom of the House of Taran? Where was it forged?" Yoongi asked without shifting his gaze from the sword.

"Where? I do not know, Your Highness, but it was forged during the Demon Wars. My ancestors slayed the demons and acquired it. Since then, it has been passed down by each generation in the House of Taran."

Demons. Dark red steel. "The blade is red."

"It is said the demons gathered the blood of the fallen and used it to forge the blade with hellfire."

"The dark flame," Yoongi muttered under his breath. This was the perfect Jewel, and the longer he studied it, the more he felt a weird burning sensation searing his skin. He glanced at the line of people, at Orion, and saw him—smirking? There was something wrong. Something about the blade, the dragon handle, Orion.

Before he could question anything further, the line of people gasped and swayed to the side. A man was running—more like limping—towards the throne, bloodied and wounded. He fell to his knees a little way away from the girl, screaming, "Demons in the West! Demons in Maren! Demons heading towards the mines on the Silver Tracks! The Mines of Haren are doomed. Knights! Knights! We need knights in the West! Your Majesty, I beg you to save us peasants and sinners. Please!"

Yoongi's blood froze, and everything—the swordstick, Orion, the girl—flew out of his mind. It wasn't because of the man's warning of demons. No, it was because of where Yoongi stood, what he held, and what that man just did. That commoner would die for interrupting the Tryda, and the king would force Yoongi to do it himself.

This had happened before in the four years of Tryda history. A boy, who was probably the same age as Yoongi, barged past the line of people and begged the king to help his burning village in the Wastelands. Even then, Yoongi felt a change in the ambiance as the king slowly walked over to the boy, drew a sword from a knight's scabbard, and beheaded the child in one strike.

And Yoongi felt it now. The atmosphere once whirring with excitement morphed into a hollow dread as he waited for the command. He had no choice. If the king ordered him to, Yoongi would kill the commoner because he couldn't risk returning to what life once was. He didn't want to be locked in chains, to be treated like a beast.

While Yoongi's mind was occupied, someone yanked the swordstick from his grasp. Flinching, he saw the king beside him and froze in utter terror. He listened to the footfalls that reverberated through the room, exuding dominance with each step. When the king towered over the man, the whole world seemed to hold its breath.

"The demons are no more," the king simply said in a deep voice resonating with a void emptiness that sent shivers through Yoongi. Then there was a flash of motion, almost too fast for even Yoongi to catch with his naked eye.

Nothing happened at first, but a line of red slowly appeared on the man's neck before his head detached and rolled across the floor. It painted a trail of blood as it traveled away from its body, coming to a halt on its stump. The head faced Yoongi, and the eyes were dark—dead. Surprisingly, the girl remained in her position, while Yoongi was stunned to the very brim with fear. The utmost fear.

Blood dripped from the tip of the sword as the king dropped it before the girl. "This tribute is tainted. Consider that fool's life your payment." He strode past Yoongi and back to his throne as his voice rang through the room. "Clean that disgusting mess. Such creatures shouldn't blight this wondrous event."

Yoongi couldn't bring himself to move. He dropped the scabbard, but his legs wouldn't budge. The ground was swallowing him, holding him in place, and the king was observing, judging, scheming. Just like that day, he could do absolutely nothing. Worthless. Pathetic. Pitiful—

The girl organized her belongings and stood, but rather than leaving, she made eye contact with Yoongi. It was quick and slight, but he understood what she said. Go back to where you belong, Prince.

I don't belong next to that monster, Yoongi thought, but she had already taken off. And that triggered something in him, breaking whatever spell was cast on his legs. He wheeled around and returned to his seat, avoiding the king's eyes.

Despite the dead body, the Tryda continued. As the servants cleaned the blood, the knights carried tribute after tribute away. When Orion kneeled elegantly before the dais, he unwrapped the silk and revealed a sword.

"Your Majesty," he said, "the House of Rallas presents this exquisite masterpiece forged in the Mines of Haren itself."

But Yoongi couldn't concentrate for a whole different reason now. That girl was the only thought on his mind because he wanted to know why. Why was the swordstick so alluring? Why did the girl resemble the servant and. . . her? And why did she help him?

As Orion left, Yoongi imagined the girl treading out of the throne room, her ragged clothes transforming into silk and her matted hair elongating into lush brown strands. Her image faded into Orion as one question echoed in Yoongi's mind: Who are you?