Present Day, The Royal Council

Stunned silence imbued the great hall as streaks of red splattered over the round table and stained the map of Kartas. The explosion of blood splashed over Jimin, coloring half of his silver hair a dark scarlet. When his father's body hit the dais, the loud thud resounded in Jimin's blood-soaked ears.

Jimin didn't know what to do—what to think. Lifting his head, he saw the other sovereigns limp in their seats, blood gushing out of a similar hole in their heads. The other princes looked as shocked as everyone else in the room. There were seven dead bodies—no, eight. The Crown Prince of Vita—Novas, Jimin believed—sat slumped in his chair, a deep gash marring the side of his head.

Novas's golden eyes were wide open but lifeless, and his chest was not moving to a stable rhythm. Oh, Gods, Jimin thought, his fingers clenching around a chunk of his breeches. After assessing the damage at the table, he gritted his teeth and slowly turned his head towards his father. He had to hold in a gag.

King Leonis's neck was twisted at an unnatural angle, a bone protruding from his skin, and there was a wide hole in his head. Jimin's mind blanked, and the world, along with his vision, began to shake violently. Ice crystallized in his heart and froze his blood in its rampant wake. A numbing cold consumed him, and as he tried to fight against it, a gut-wrenching scream freed him from his inner struggle.

Across the table, Prince Min Yoongi of Bellum was clutching his left shoulder as blood seeped between his fingers, cries of pain escaping him. The Bellan guards were already by his side, checking his and the king's wounds. In fact, all the other kingdoms' guards were in action, scrambling and drawing their weapons in case of another attack.

Jimin stared at the tumult unfolding before him as if he was sitting on the sidelines and felt overwhelmed by everything. Raising his hands to cover his ears from the chaos, he shook his head. His father and the other sovereigns were dead, their skins sickly blanched, and memories of Tobias lying on his sickbed blurred Jimin's head.

Panting, he closed his eyes. Who was supposed to lead? Tobias was dead. His father was dead. Who was the king? It couldn't be Jimin because the people despised and blamed him for Tobias's death. They would burn him, curse him.

Jimin, I'm sorry.

Tobias. Oh, Tobias. Jimin had failed his brother—had broken his trust. It was all Jimin's fault. He was a curse. He had killed Tobias and his father. He—

A hand landed on Jimin's shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts. Beside him stood Lieutenant Colonel Evan Nichel, who held his helmet under his arm and regarded Jimin with a look of terror that told him Umbra needed a leader.

Umbra needed him.

For his entire life, he had trained and studied for this moment, so he could do it. He had to do it. Snapping out of his trance, he swallowed his thick anxiety and forced himself to reassess the situation.

There were eight dead and one injured. If Jimin remembered clearly, they all died at once. Judging the angles of each wound, he assumed whoever had planned this was aiming solely for the sovereigns. Novas and Yoongi were collateral damage.

Even then, there wasn't an answer as to how. Each kingdom was allowed four guards and one banner bearer, and before tragedy struck, all of the guards were standing still in their positions. A few stray movements may have evaded Jimin's eye, but others would have noticed if that was the case. And there were no places to hide unless. . .

Jimin tilted his head towards the arches in the high ceiling shrouded by darkness. Someone could hide there. A demon could hide there.

"Your Highness, what should we do?" Nichel asked.

Running his hand through his rough hair, Jimin stood and surveyed the four Umbran guards in full armor behind him. "Report this to the generals and search the castle for the perpetrator. Whomever it was couldn't have gone far." Jimin glanced at the bloodbath—at his dead father. "Call healers to carry the wounded to the healing wards. No one else who was present during the attack leaves."

Bowing, Nichel led his men out of the great hall, and taking a deep breath, Jimin shifted his attention to the calamity. The other princes were finally free of their stupor, ordering their guards and shouting incoherent commands. Noticing the Bellan guards' toil to calm Yoongi, Jimin started towards them when a cry from the doors of the great hall made him halt.

"Prince Jimin! Your Highness!" A bloodied servant entered the open doors, stumbling and landing on her knees. She bowed. "The castle was invaded. Princess Sylvia and Her Majesty are—"

The servant's broken sob interrupted her, but that didn't matter. Jimin stopped listening after he heard "Sylvia." Horror crashed within him.

Without a second of hesitation, he raced out of the great hall and sprinted towards Sylvia's chambers. Each step brought an onslaught of doubts and worries that distracted him from his smeared surroundings. When the possibility of Sylvia's death surfaced, Jimin pushed himself to move faster.

He couldn't lose Sylvia. He had lost Tobias, his father, and maybe his mother, but he couldn't lose Sylvia. It was Jimin's duty as an older brother to protect her, so he couldn't lose her. Not now. Not while he was alive. Never while he was alive.

Guards and servants flooded the corridors, hurrying to the great hall, but Jimin pressed on. When he arrived at the staircase, he took three steps at once until he reached the second landing. He dashed to Sylvia's room. A circle of servants and healers blocked the door, but Jimin shoved them aside and observed the scene through the threshold.

Sylvia's body lay in the middle of the room, her limbs splayed out beside her, her hair dyed the color of her blood pooling beneath her in a congealed circle. Shards of a cracked pot littered the floor, and the Kartheus rested in the blood, its white petals caked with crimson.

Speechless, Jimin sank to his knees. The healers and servants backed away. As he crawled towards Sylvia, he covered his mouth with the back of his hand and cradled her head in his lap. Her skin was cold to the touch, and under her chin, the skin on her throat was torn.

Resting a trembling finger below her nose, Jimin sobbed and screamed as agony ripped him from inside out. She wasn't breathing. He held his sister so close to his chest as tears leaked down his cheeks in rivulets that dripped on Sylvia's face.

"Who did this!?" Jimin wailed. "Who killed my sister!?"

When the servants and healers averted their gazes, excruciating pain constricted Jimin's heart, and the ice returned, stronger and more adamant than before. It trailed through his veins, freezing everything it touched, and when it demanded control, Jimin succumbed to it.

As frost prickled over his skin, he bawled and wept, his grief permeating the room. Over in the corner, the blood-covered Kartheus withered as shadows devoured it.

* * *

The Prince of Umbra sending Two and the other Umbran guards out of the great hall was a godsend she would not waste. The instant she stepped into the halls, she was met with a tornado of servants, healers, and guards all rushing through the corridors. From the whispers, she heard the queen and the princess were murdered.

Before the assassination, she would've skeptically shrugged those whispers aside. But the impossible had just unfolded before her eyes. That made anything possible, even the murder of royals in a castle guarded by thousands of soldiers. It only urged her to push harder against the tide of people.

She escaped from the other Umbran guards at the Royal Council a while ago because of the masses of people bumping into her. But even though the chaos was the perfect disguise to mask an escape, it was difficult to see where she was going through the slits of her visor.

Those were not the only problems, though. There was still that guard, Nefrin Antaro. If someone opened the cupboard Two had locked him in, they would realize the Nefrin at the Royal Council was not Nefrin at all. Then, every Umbran would immediately suspect her, and there was no chance of victory against an entire kingdom.

To get out of this predicament alive, Two first needed to find a way out of the castle. Then, she needed to travel to Medeia, locate Nero, and beg him to aid her. It wasn't a perfect plan, but it was sufficient for these dire circumstances.

In the corner of her eyes, she glimpsed the beginning of the gardens and perked up. Diverging from the swarm of people, she cut onto a path that swerved deeper into the gardens. The bushes and trees concealed her from the crowds, and when she was sure she was hidden, she started to tear Nefrin Antaro's armor off of her body.

After she tossed the last piece of armor away, she grabbed the green vines hanging over the castle walls and climbed over. On the other side, she scanned her surroundings and opted to blend into the markets of Hiemura down the hill.

Kartas was now a land of leaderless kingdoms. Thinking about the assassination, Two recalled the look in Lucius's eyes from the day he assigned her to this mission.

Was this another test like the one from seven years ago? If so, did she pass or fail? Lucius always had ulterior motives with each move he made, and Two knew he was a game master who controlled the field and everyone on it. Whether he was aware of what would occur at the Royal Council was a mystery, but it wouldn't be a surprise if he was.

Lucius had access to thousands of sources through the Dark Lotus, which spanned to every part of Lux and some parts of eastern Umbra. For all Two knew, one of those sources could have planned the whole ordeal, and Lucius probably had a hand in it, too. His distaste for the King of Lux was indomitable. Who was to argue his hatred didn't apply to the other sovereigns?

He did send her and Adrian to kill Amic Inkiraj on request from the Queen of Vita. But Two couldn't determine whether Inkiraj was telling the truth. There were too many unanswered questions, but the most important one was why. Why was she sent to the Royal Council in the first place? Whatever the answer was, it wasn't anything pleasant.

The streets were compact with commoners cheerful with the spirit of Caidadh, oblivious to what had just transpired in the castle. Merchants were waving their ware from their stands flanking the streets, and as Two passed a one stocked with Umbran raiment rimmed with fake wolf fur, she swiped a cloak from the racks, draped it over her shoulders, and fastened the iron clasp.

Examining the donkeys and horses leading wagons loaded with cargo, she entertained the idea of hitching a ride to Medeia. As she slipped past two horses pulling a carriage, she peeked at the opposite side of the street and spotted a girl with shoulder-length, white hair glaring at her.

A ragged stole was wrapped loosely around her neck and cascaded down her brown tunic to her thighs. Her turquoise eyes were rimmed with dark circles, and in her hand was a blade she occasionally flipped with her fingers. Her semblance told Two to steer clear away, and she did until the girl started to follow her.

Two tried to ignore her presence and pretend she wasn't trailing her from across the street, but when the girl made her way towards Two, instinct kicked in and compelled her to run. Based on her appearance, the girl wasn't an Umbran guard, but there was a chance she was affiliated with the royals. Two couldn't risk that.

Veering into an alley, Two glanced back at the streets. When she couldn't see the girl, she released a breath of relief and prepared to venture further into the alleys. Suddenly, the girl was blocking her path.

The hair on the back of Two's neck stood tall, and before she could react, the girl disappeared and reappeared right in front of her. Two felt more than saw a knife digging into her abdomen. When she lifted her arm to push the girl away, the girl twisted the knife out and stabbed Two again and again in rapid succession.

On the tenth thrust, the girl halted, and Two tumbled onto her back, gasping and pressing against her wound. The pain was intolerable, and blood clotted in her throat. Staring down at Two, the girl rubbed her foot against the hand covering Two's wound. Two wheezed. There was a hint of joy glinting in the girl's eyes, but instead of finishing her work, she frowned and withdrew her foot. After a second, she disappeared in a puff of black smoke.

What the hell just happened? Two thought. Coughing up blood, she braced a hand against a wall and pushed herself to her feet. Pain tore through her. Her plant element barely healed her, and her other two elements were dormant. Cursing, she dragged herself out of the alley and searched for a wagon laden with Luxian designs.

She had to get to Clarica. Medeia was no longer an option since she couldn't look for Nero in this state. By wagon, she could reach Clarica in a matter of weeks and return to the Dark Lotus. And if her plant element could keep her alive and slow her bleeding, then weeks wouldn't be a problem. However, her elements didn't look like they would return any time soon.

Pain zapped through her body as she stepped into the street. The cloak she stole veiled her wound, so no one paid her any notice as she limped towards a wagon stationed at the end of the markets. It was covered with a white canvas rimmed with gold, and inside, there were crates of goods and barrels of wine and rolls of silk, all stamped with a roaring tiger. Everything about it screamed Luxian.

As dark vignettes clouded her vision, she climbed into the wagon and sat, leaning against a mound of clothing. Taking a healthy length of silk from a roll, she lifted her tunic and patched her wounds. Already, the blood was drenching the silk. Scowling, Two grabbed a handful of cloth and pressed it against her stomach. She would not die to a psychotic rugrat in Umbra of all places. If Lexitem took her now, she would kill him, send him to whatever lay beyond the After.

Two's breath hitched as male voices started talking outside. The wagon rustled. Horses neighed and kicked. When she thought the coast was clear, she heard footsteps approaching the back.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit—

She hid behind a barrel as someone pulled the flap of the canvas back. Voices argued. Shouts. Scoffs. Eventual silence. The men left, and the wagon jerked again. Without further delay, the wagon began to move. Two sighed in relief.

Just a few weeks. All she had to do was survive a few weeks. But between one turn and the next, the world began to spin. Between one turn and the next, Two's hand fell from her stomach as she blacked out.