Nefrin Antaro was late. Again. If it was any other day, this common occurrence would pass as another "Nefrin trait" as his fellow guards coined it, but today was different. Today, there was too much at stake for him to screw it all up, yet here he was in his silver armor, running late like always.

Losing track of time was a terrible habit because he got immersed in his mumbles of plans for the future. This time, he was in the library sketching a map of the steps he would take in his next assignment, which opened many opportunities for him to climb the ranks. And before he knew it, hours had sneaked past him.

He was embarrassed when he had fallen out of his chair in his rush, juggling his helmet for balance before securing it under his arm. And as he dashed through the halls, everyone stared at him, shaking their heads. They were probably thinking that the Antaro boy was at it again—dreaming big when he should've been at the Royal Council.

Yes, the Royal Council, the one that was the whisper of the town since Crown Prince Jimin returned from Stieffera with a decapitated head, was today. Nefrin was chosen to guard the King and Crown Prince of Umbra. More accurately, he was one of the men from his battalion commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Evan Nichel chosen to stand guard.

Even so, if Nefrin played his wits and cards right, a promotion was imminent. Once he acquired a higher title than that arrogant bastard Nichel, Nefrin was going to exact his revenge for every living moment of hell he endured. All he had to do was catch the attention of one of the royals.

He had failed with Princess Sylvia. In the gardens where Prince Jimin was found half-dead, outside Prince Jimin's room the night he embarked for Stieffera, the day Mother Erna marched to the throne room. In every situation, it was clear he meant nothing to the princess. Nefrin was just another guard among the thousands. But at the Royal Council, in front of all the sovereigns and heirs of Kartas, he had an opportunity.

Over the past month, he had observed the royals arrive one by one, all powerful and remarkable in their own way. If a skirmish occurred during the council, Nefrin could outstand everyone else. Playing the desired scenario in his head, he fist-pumped the air and skipped down the corridor. That promotion was definitely coming his way.

He was cutting his punctuality short, but the great hall, where the council would be convened, was only a few corridors away. Picking up his pace, he veered towards a shortcut, determined to arrive on time, when something smacked him across the head. On impact, he dropped his helmet and landed on his back.

The world was extraordinarily dark, and his body was dragging itself into a cupboard.

"Wait," he whispered, his lips jumbling around the words, but his body didn't halt. When he was shoved into the tight space, he discerned a blurry figure with vermilion hair standing before him and holding his helmet.

"Thank you," he muttered, reaching for the armor, but it was pulled away from his grasp. To say the least, Nefrin was bewildered, his mind too scattered to assess his situation. The only thought buzzing in his pounding head was that he wasn't getting that promotion before the world dimmed to black.

* * *

Sylvia was nervous. After the servants dressed her in a tight, azure gown that swept the floor every step she took, they left her in her room with her anxious thoughts. For the past few weeks, the castle bustled with activities to prepare for the council, opening the rooms for the guests, arranging the great hall. And watching the servants and guards rush around was nerve-racking because it emphasized how important this historic day was.

The last Royal Council was four years ago when King Aethyrias proposed to end the Great Southern Wars. But even then, only the kingdoms south of the Rendryn Mountains attended. At present, all the current and future sovereigns of Kartas were somewhere in the castle, readying themselves to strategize how to prevent the Demon Days. It was true the kingdoms had a thin coalition that could snap at any moment with the wrong choice of words or actions, but the Demon Days was a matter that transcended past disputes.

Sweat coated Sylvia's palm as she held her fists close to her chest. She was waiting for an escort to accompany her the entire day. It wasn't unusual, but the notion implied something more: anything could go awry.

Pacing, she fingered her wristlet, searching for anything to pass the time when her eyes landed on the Kartheus sitting on the windowsill. Its white petals were gleaming with a soft sheen as it was placed at the perfect angle where half of it was covered in shadow, the other illuminated in sunlight.

The Kartheus—the peace emblem of Kartas—was in bloom. Surely that meant the council would end smoothly. Exhaling a breath, Sylvia nodded. All she had to do was be patient, and the day would pass as any other would. There was nothing to worry about.

A knock startled her out of her musings. She forced a smile, ready to face what the Gods had in store for her. When she opened the door, she was met with a familiar face covered with sandy hair and adorned with a thin-lipped smile. Lord Sanon Ashkiba stood in front of Sylvia, holding his wooden cane. Flanking him was his white wolf Vierkan. The smile on Lord Ashkiba's face was eerily sinister, and Vierkan was crouching like he was about to pounce on his prey.

Transfixed, Sylvia studied the pair for a quick moment before a sharp spike of adrenaline inclined her to slam the door shut. Lord Ashkiba held it open with the end of his cane, his lips stretching into a grotesque smile Sylvia had never seen in the ten years she had known him.

"Princess, how rude of you to close the door on my face."

As Lord Ashkiba stepped into the room, Sylvia backed away, and soon, the door closed behind Vierkan, leaving Sylvia trapped. She gulped, staring at the devilish leer in Lord Ashkiba's emerald eyes as he said, "Vierkan, attack."

The last thing Sylvia remembered was Vierkan knocking her to the ground and sinking his sharp teeth into her neck. Before she lost consciousness, a pot shattered beside her, and Lord Ashkiba shouted something as darkness swarmed Sylvia's vision. The world became unbearably silent.

* * *

A rigid sense of unease saturated the great hall as Two marched towards Umbra's section at the round table. The iron armor covering her entire body pressed against her, weighing her down, and for the fifth time that evening, she cursed the heaviness of the armor.

Everything was going according to plan. For weeks, Two had studied every possible flaw in the Umbran guard. Fortunately, before she had lost hope and patience, she found a guard named Nefrin Antaro, an absolute dunce who frequently got lost in thought. After learning the boy was chosen to stand guard behind the King of Umbra during the Royal Council, she had stalked his every move, memorized his daily schedule, and ambushed him.

Currently, she was wearing his silver armor, breathing in his musty scent staining the inside of his helmet and visor concealing her face. As she strode towards Umbra's banner bearer, she noticed some of the royals had arrived, including Umbra's, Pacem's, Sapientia's, and Vita's. All of their guards were already standing in their positions behind each kingdom's banner bearer.

Situated on the dais at the center was a ginormous, round table overlaid with a map of Kartas. Fourteen chairs surrounded it and were divided evenly into seven sections distanced from each other. When she finally settled in her position, the royals of Tenebris arrived with four guards in pursuit. Their banner bearer held the sigil of a black bear high in the air, and the moment the King and Prince of Tenebris sat in their seats, the banner bearer banged the end of the staff against the ground.

Two's heart thumped against her chest as the last ripples of sound rolled over her. It was only an act of intimidation, but it didn't fail to remind her that one wrong move could start a war.

The next to enter the great hall were the royals of Bellum, wearing their uniforms painted in dark crimson and laced with gold. A sigil of a burning phoenix swayed behind them as they marched to their section adjacent to Pacem's. The King of Bellum and the Queen of Pacem exchanged glares before the Bellans settled down, their guards standing at attention.

As each kingdom made its entrance, the trace of hostility in the room grew tenfold, and the silence became unbearable. A bead of sweat raced down the side of Two's face as she examined the scene through the slits of her visor. Just as she was about to sweep her eyes around the royals gathered around the table, Lux made its appearance.

King Aethyrias strolled into the great hall with a banner showcasing Lux's proud white tiger billowing overhead, a prince missing from his side. Two couldn't tell what was more daunting: the act of displaying power like Tenebris and Bellum or visibly flaunting it with little care for the consequences like Lux. When the tension in the room thickened, she decided on the latter.

It was unsettling to be in the presence of the seven mighty sovereigns of Kartas, who would kill her without hesitation if they were to discover who she was. Her trepidation only spread when King Aethyrias rested in his seat, his listless eyes scanning the room. A steady rhythm of striking drums crescendoed in the back of Two's ears, threatening to drown all her senses, but biting her bottom lip, she ignored it.

The heavy silence nestling itself in the great hall was dispelled with a boom that resonated from shutting the massive doors nearly reaching the high ceiling. In its place, an oppressive aura of apprehension settled. Only torchlight illuminated the room since the windows were fortified with iron bars and blocked white cloth. Shadows of fire flitted over the map of Kartas, and no one dared to speak until King Leonis of Umbra pushed himself to his feet.

"I have summoned everyone here to discuss grave news." As King Leonis's navy eyes surveyed the room, the drums returned to torment Two, their strong beat singing a song of forewarning. She felt like someone was watching from the shadows, breathing against her neck, chuckling in her ear. Goosebumps pricked her skin as King Leonis continued. "The Demon Days are approaching and—"

A sharp ringing muffled King Leonis's voice, and the pounding drums reached a forte. Shivers ran through Two's limbs, dispersing a coldness throughout her body as a fever doused her skin with heat. Her hands and feet were freezing as if they were touching frigid ice, and as she watched King Leonis's voiceless mouth move, the beat of the drums grew louder, more forceful.

Her heavy pants filled her ears between the intervals when the drums rested, and when King Leonis reached an end to his speech and lowered himself back into his seat, time seemed to slow to a crawl. Her breath hitched as the drums abruptly stopped, and before she could register anything, blood splattered everywhere.

No one made a single sound as King Leonis landed on the dais, his eyes wide and blood pouring out of a hole on the side of his head. It was so sudden that, in her daze, Two didn't notice that the other sovereigns of Kartas were limp in their seats, blood pooling from a similar wound on their heads.

Knees buckling, Two stepped back to regain her wavering balance. Her unstable pants echoed in her ringing ears as the drums began to thrum at a faster rhythm, diluting every sound around her. Staring at the blood, the dead, the calamity, she cringed and subdued a gasp that tried to claw its way out of her throat.

It was the fall of Kartas.