Jimin was cold, unbearably cold. Misery tingled through his body as he dragged his feet back to the great hall, bumping against the now-dwindling flurry of guards and servants. Once, the shouts from the crowds reached his ears, but after visiting Sylvia's chambers, every sound eluded him—drowned by incessant static. At the thought of his sister, ice pierced Jimin's heart, and he clutched his chest, grunting. Why did he visit Sylvia? Why did he feel so much anguish when he imagined her name, her face, her eyes? Her beautiful, blue eyes.

A rogue tear drizzled down his face, its path staggered and tortuous. Lifting his hand to wipe it, he realized dried blood covered his hand. Actually, a thin layer of cracking crimson painted the entire left side of his body, peeling off of his skin like leaves that were whisked away by the wind. His hands—his mind—were numb, and chills ghosted Jimin's spine, tracing its frozen fingers down his nerves and reminding him he was so cold.

Frost started to spread over his limbs, and he doubled over as the world began twirling around him. The halls became blurry. Then the people and sky. Soon, Jimin lay in the eye of a hazy hurricane sprinkled with the jagged hues of autumn and the cool shades of Umbra. As he balled his fists, dried blood stretched his skin, and the sensation evoked memories of him cradling his sister's bloody head close to his chest. Panting, Jimin clenched his throbbing head.

Where was Sylvia? Murky flashes of a red Kartheus formed in Jimin's vision. Where was his sister, his mother, his father? Distorted pictures of splattered blood crashed against each other, panning towards three bodies resting in a pool of scarlet engulfed by darkness. Beyond the bodies, a rectangle outlined with a yellow light opened to a candlelit room. Inside, Tobias lay dead on his sickbed, his lifeless eyes staring blankly at Jimin.

All at once, Jimin's brain caught up to the present, and a wail tore from his throat. Sylvia was dead, killed right under his nose. And his father—King Leonis—was assassinated right before his eyes. For once, Jimin didn't care what everyone thought about him. He ignored all the eyes boring into him from beyond the hurricane and wept. Crying tears of grief, agony, and resentment, Jimin screamed as the ice in his veins grew violent and stabbed his insides, rooting itself in his heart.

It was all his fault. He had failed everyone he loved: his parents, Sylvia, Tobias. The people were right: he was a plague cursed with the sin of survival. Sinking his nails into his thighs, Jimin gasped in ragged breaths and tried to anchor himself to the bursts of pain spreading through his legs. Before he knew it, his nails broke his skin, and blood began staining his breeches in the form of five growing dots.

As the blood expanded, the air around him thickened and weighed him down with pressure like two hands pushing against his shoulders. Something watched him with a tangible intensity, but whether with sympathy or anger was beyond him. At the moment, he wanted to believe it was Tobias scorning him from the After for his stupidity and helplessness.

The notion only helped solidify that this was all Jimin's fault.

He allowed the failure to sink itself into his skin—brand him so he would never forget it. If Tobias were in Jimin's position, he wouldn't have failed. He would've protected Sylvia and his father and mother rather than go blind with panic after hearing a herald from a demon. He would've fought and protected and sacrificed himself to save those who were dear to him. But Jimin couldn't do any of that. Because of fate, he never could.

And now, he would never receive another opportunity to redeem himself ever again.

In a twisted sense, that thought brought clarity to his situation—to what he had to do next. As he struggled to his buckling knees, the ice reached his limbs, and along with it came a surge of emptiness that carved into his heart. Every step he forced himself to take alternated between snapping restraint and brimming resentment.

Right. Sylvia was dead.

Left. The bastard that killed her escaped unscathed.

Right. Jimin was worthless. The ice crackled. So worthless.

Ahead of him were the tall, open doors of the great hall, and Jimin honestly didn't know how long he had been walking. Despite that, he entered the dark room, the battle inside his head returning full speed.

Sylvia was dead.

All he could hear was the heaviness of his breath reverberating in his ears. Everything else, from the tamed chaos to the queries from the healers who tended to the wounded, fell on deaf ears like water gliding over ice.

His father—his mother—was dead. Jimin could barely breathe, every breath hitching in his throat. Behind him, that intense pressure wrapped around his form, squeezing the last puffs of air out of his lungs. Tears stung his eyes.

His entire family was dead.

Falling to his knees, Jimin wrapped his arms around his stomach and wheezed. From the other side of the room, a healer abruptly stopped tending to a guard and raced towards Jimin, lifting her rags so as not to trip. In the distance, the healer spoke, but her words did not reach his ears. A hand briefly rested on his shoulder before flinching away—something about his skin being abnormally cold.

Jimin's fingers tightened into fists as his eyes fixated on the drizzle of blood from his smarting thigh. Oddly, the sight mollified him—made time pause for a second before a torrent of resentment swept through him in a quick gasp. The ice buried deep within him wrestled the reins of his control out of his hands and scuffled before finally taking charge, shoving Jimin away.

He felt as if a chain clamped around his neck had yanked him out of his body, rendering him nothing but a spectator to his actions. He didn't know when his tears dried, when his uneven breaths smoothed, when his mind slipped into dissociation, when he started cackling like a madman. The cackles bounced off the walls and echoed through the room as a disturbing silence imbued the great hall. The bewilderment. The fear. The disgust. They were practically tangible on his tongue in every gulp of air he inhaled.

He laughed. Fine, let them all call him a plague, a curse, a monster, whatever the hell they wanted. Time and time again, unfortunate events proved he brought misfortune: Tobias's death, his family's descent into despair, his incapability to be a proper prince, and the Royal Council. He finally admitted it, but instead of destroying his kingdom or the ones he loved, he was going to find the bastard who murdered Sylvia. 

And he was going to do unto them what they did to her.

Raising his head, he searched the room, his gaze scraping over the remaining princes and guards circling the round table. The healer beside him backed away towards the open doors as some guards studied Jimin with furrowed brows. The monarchs, along with Novas, were cleared from the scene—dead for all Jimin cared. The guards from all the kingdoms except Umbra stood by their princes' sides, wary of another surprise. The only outlier was the Bellan prince, who was leaned against a wall, his pale face contorting in pain as a healer's glowing hands hovered over his left shoulder.

For some unbeknownst reason, watching the Umbran healer aid the Bellan prince—a suspect of the assassination, a suspect of the murder of Jimin's family—pissed Jimin off to no bounds.

It was a demon that killed them, that soft voice of reason muttered, but Jimin shoved it away. Screw the demon. For all he cared, everyone remaining in the great hall was a damn demon. His eyes strained as he glared at the healer. Before Jimin could even react, an outburst of power exploded in his arm, forming a spike of ice that curved across the ground towards the healer and the Bellan prince.

The attack was relieving. It was every ounce of bitterness demanding to be released. Every moment Jimin desired to smack his father and roar his dissent. Every second he wasted hiding behind a false veneer and feigning content. Every day as Tobias's shadow reminded him how much of a failure he was. Every memory of Sylvia, who smiled and cheered him on. Who loved and cherished him more than anyone else, showed no hatred, and only knew kindness. Who wanted more than anyone for Jimin to succeed. Who no longer breathed after bleeding in Jimin's arms. Who was now gone. Who was now dead because of him.

The healer's cries were the first sounds that reached Jimin's ears before he screamed in a broken sob, "Why!?" If anyone moved to retaliate, Jimin was unaware as he lurched to his feet. The room fell silent. "Why did you take her instead of me? Why did you take them away? Why did you leave me alive!?"

Covering his face with his hands, he peered in between his fingers and saw the ragged body of the healer impaled by ice. Across the room, behind the table, everyone braced for another attack.

"I'm going to murder every single one of you," Jimin whispered, pointing a wavering finger at the group. Within a heartbeat, a wave of razor-sharp ice materialized behind two Tenebran guards, killing them on the spot. The remaining guards and princes dispersed, but no one attempted to attack Jimin.

"Cowards," Jimin mumbled. "Cowards! Come and face me! You dare slay my family, yet you have not the courage to meet your match!"

When no one responded, Jimin yelled and swung his arm. He counted every person, noted their every position, and noticed the Tenebran prince had vanished from his place beside the Pacien prince. A hand smacked Jimin's arm, aiming it away from the group of people and towards the adjacent wall, where a burst of ice blasted the stone away and opened a wide hole to the halls.

Light from the new opening chased the shadows away, illuminating the Prince of Tenebris. He stood before Jimin with his matted, brown hair and lilac eyes that burned with distress. A violet mist emanated from his skin, and darkness dimmed the firelight that lit the room. His baritone voice was nothing more than a growl.

"Control your anger, Umbran. All of us here have faced grief today, and you acting on your emotions helps none of us."

Dumbfounded, Jimin stared at him—Kim Taehyung, heir of the Tenebran throne—for what felt like hours before the ice swelled again, and a sadistic sense of amusement coiled in him. Exhaling a trembling breath, Jimin seized Taehyung's arm, and confusion crossed Taehyung's face.

Jimin smiled. "Then satiate my grief, Tenebran."

As power raced to Jimin's hand, Taehyung tried to yank his arm away from Jimin's iron hold to no avail. The blizzard rampaging within Jimin graced his fingers as frost crystallized on Taehyung's arm. But before Taehyung was injured, a gust of wind blasted Jimin away.

He flew twenty paces from where he stood and only stopped when his back slammed against the wall next to the tall doors of the great hall. As he sank to the ground, pain blazed through his spine. Ahead of him, the damned Prince of Pacem—Jung Hoseok—stood beside Taehyung.

"This is no way for us allies to behave," Hoseok said. "We must band together as brothers and fight the common enemy, not each other. Prince Jimin, we understand how you feel, and we feel the same. But we can't fall subject to our emotions when the people of Kartas need us."

After hearing that speech full of platitudes, Jimin couldn't help but laugh. This entire ordeal was a joke. Blood covered everyone, two Tenebran guards and a healer were dead, and Jimin was battling two other princes. What in the name of Caeluros was he doing?

Resting his head against the wall, Jimin sighed. The ice was still unrelenting within him, and the fury and grief that briefly subsided returned. Using the wall as support, he hauled himself upright, flinching when he felt a twinge in his right elbow. Heaving his legs towards Taehyung and Hoseok, Jimin drew back his left arm and spat.

"Go to Infernum."

As a wall of ice formed between them, Taehyung and Hoseok retreated, scowling. It only made Jimin giddy, and he felt more disconnected from his body as if his soul was floating away. And at that moment, as his body moved by itself, Jimin's conscience receded into a deep slumber.

* * *

Taehyung's plan was simple enough: convince Jimin to calm down. If he refused, apprehend him. The true challenge, Taehyung had thought, was slipping into Anairum. But he was fortunate enough not to trip and injure himself while using his space element. After jumping past that obstacle, everything should have gone smoothly. Jimin should have realized his faults and cried or sobbed or whatever he needed, and everyone else should have returned to mourning and healing themselves.

Alas, life wasn't clear-cut. Instead, Jimin wrapped his fingers around Taehyung's arm. Meeting his eyes, Taehyung recognized a dull light in them—a look he had only ever seen while training with Elyagon, a look emanating pure contempt. Taehyung understood why Elygon bore that horrendous light. But Jimin. . . ?

Yes, Taehyung admitted he didn't know anyone in this room to any personal extent—even his own guards were strangers—but he did know some basic information about Jimin and the other princes. Jimin was born a water elemental, not an ice elemental. There were a few cases where water elementals possessed some abilities distinct to ice elementals. However, fortune reserved that innate potential for the powerful.

And Jimin was born weak, had barely survived infancy. So for him to possess this level of control over ice was impossible unless he was secretly an ice elemental, which was highly unlikely considering his circumstances.

Another fact Taehyung knew about Jimin was that he had the personality of an angel. Though the commoners of Umbra may have despised Jimin, anyone in their right state of mind agreed he wasn't anything like King Kaitta and Prince Yoongi of Bellum. Of course, Taehyung had never met Jimin, but all the Umbran ambassadors had the same impression of their prince. So why was Taehyung staring at, instead of this supposed angel, a white-eyed devil with a malicious grin?

It was hard to believe that what stood before him was Jimin, the same person who trembled with anticipation before the meeting and shook with unbridled horror after the catastrophe. Before, there wasn't a single hint of malign, but now, all Taehyung saw was a different person entirely.

As the ice began to scratch his skin, Taehyung questioned if this would be the last breath he took, the last sight he saw: unnatural, white eyes tinged with blue. The eyes of a vindictive beast. Life was cruel, and Taehyung had experienced its injustices firsthand. As he realized this was the end, regrets poured into his head.

Arana was right. He should have told Elyagon the truth no matter how wretched it was. If Taehyung had, perhaps he wouldn't be standing at death's edge and facing the devil itself. Maybe after he passed, Arana would tell Elyagon the truth. Maybe then Elyagon would forgive Taehyung—maybe then the Gods would pardon his sins.

Before closing his eyes, Taehyung turned to Yoongi. A barrage of memories of the first time they met crossed Taehyung's thoughts. He flinched.

Forgive me, he thought, turning away from death when a burst of wind lifted Jimin off his feet and sent him hurling across the great hall, where his back struck the wall with a thwack. Approaching Taehyung from behind was Prince Jung Hoseok of Pacem. Hoseok was quick to speak before Taehyung could express his gratitude.

Whatever Hoseok said was unimportant as Taehyung was too focused on rubbing the fleeting coldness off his arm. He could have died—no, he felt death breathing over his neck, snaring his thoughts. Gods, that was terrifying.

Stumbling, Jimin climbed the wall to stand on his swaying feet, his face twisting in pain. He looked so tired and numb, almost as if he wasn't even conscious of what he was doing. Taehyung's eyes glanced around the room and breathed in the calamity, the fallen, before landing on Prince Kim Namjoon of Sapientia, whose face was emotionless, thinking, studying. Bellan guards surrounded Yoongi, and Hoseok still stared at Jimin.

There was no time to fight each other. Taehyung recalled blood splattering over his face as his father died, his head split open, and nausea overtook him. He had suppressed the memory, deeming that the best route to take, but what was he doing? What were they all doing? His father would not want this; none of the monarchs would. They had to stop.

But there was a complication.

Jimin inhaled a deep breath before drawing his left arm back. "Go to Infernum."

And that complication had to be put down.

Ice snaked across the ground and reached for Taehyung, but he retreated along with Hoseok. A wall of ice separated Jimin from them. Through it, Jimin's refracted body stalked back and forth, a wolf hunting for prey.

"I'll show you," he muttered, the fingers on his right hand twitching. "I'll show every single one of you."

He was unhinged, and there was this blank look in his white eyes, detached yet demanding. Jimin was not in control of whatever monster that had plagued his emotions. After letting the thought sink in, Taehyung's heart dropped. Would Taehyung react that way if he had learned of his family's murder? Would he lose all sense of reason and kill his own people? A nagging suspicion prodded his mind, tapping his head in powerful beats.

What if Arana and Elyagon were dead?

It was a possibility since someone had infiltrated Umbra, but even considering it was unimaginable. Taehyung couldn't help but see his reflection as he looked at Jimin. From behind, Yoongi's presence lingered over his shoulder, reminding him exactly what kind of person he was. Exactly what measures he would take to protect his kin. Exactly how much blood was on his hands.

He was lost, deep in thought, until a voice pulled him back to reality.

"You should let the healers handle your arm," Namjoon said, unbuttoning the cuffs around his wrist as he approached the wall of ice. The sun's yellow light gleamed on his combed back, charcoal hair as the heels of his shoes clicked against the marble floor. "You may not feel it, but the damage is severe. If Prince Hoseok hadn't intervened when he did, you would've lost your arm."

Hoseok glanced at Namjoon skeptically before eyeing Taehyung, who nodded in appreciation. Brushing the gesture off with his hand, Hoseok said, "Prince Namjoon, know it would be in your best interest to avoid using your mind element on me."

Namjoon raised a brow. "I know when I am allowed to peruse a mind. I am not your problem. Don't let me distract you from the issue at hand." He approached the ice wall, clasping his hands behind his back. "Prince Jimin, you must calm yourself before you do any more harm to people who are grieving just as you are. We have all lost in our lives, and today we suffered a great tragedy. Nevertheless, that does not excuse your unsightly manners."

Jimin curled his right fist, his voice cracking as he breathed, "You killed them. They're dead."

"We killed no one, but you are killing people right now, killing people with families who will mourn their deaths as much as you mourn your own." Namjoon pointed at the dead healer and two Tenebran guards. "Look at what you're doing! Do you wish to inflict the same pain you suffer on others?"

When his eyes landed on the deceased, Jimin paused, stepping back. His face scrunched up in confusion. "I—I—"

"Do you wish to stoop as low as the monster that murdered your father?"

Threading his fingers through his hair, Jimin stumbled as if Namjoon had attacked him. "S-Stop."

"What do you believe King Leonis and Queen Laisa would think of you?"

The ice wall cracked. Jimin's trembling right hand covered his face. "Be quiet."

Ignoring Taehyung's attempt to stop him, Namjoon stepped closer to the ice wall that sported another crack. His thick voice was lethal. "What do you believe Princess Sylvia would think of you?"

That must've been Jimin's snapping point because the ice wall shattered, and ice shards rained down the great hall, falling like snow and hitting like steel. Taehyung shied away from the shower as Hoseok twisted his arms and maneuvered the ice shards away with the wind. Namjoon did not move from his position before the now-broken ice wall and stood over Jimin, who was rapidly gasping in shallow breaths materializing as wisps of vapor.

His tears dripped atop the ice shards littering the ground, and blue slowly permeated the white irises of his eyes. "What have I done?" he muttered, sinking to his knees as he studied his hands. "What have I done?"

Taehyung could only watch as Jimin sobbed into his hands, the dwindling fires burning on the torches hung on the walls dying along with the tension in the air. Only the light from the halls gleamed into the room, catching on the melting ice and the leather map of Kartas that lay drenched atop the circular table. The light slanted across the ground, separating the great hall into two distinct areas. Everyone stood in darkness.

"Call a healer," Namjoon said, turning to his guards. A healer crouched in the corner stood, but Namjoon shook his head. "You've been through enough. Rest."

As one Sapientian guard raced towards the halls, the smack of a staff against marble captured everyone's attention. The focus shifted from Jimin to two new arrivals standing in the rubble where a wall once stood. One was an old lady with a shriveled complexion who leaned against a warped staff as her eyes scanned the area, halting when they landed on Jimin. The other was a man holding a wooden cane engraved with ancient carvings. Combing back his sweat-damp, sandy hair curling over his forehead, he studied the scene with quivering emerald eyes. Beside him, a white wolf patiently sat, cocking its head when Taehyung met its gray eyes.

"I apologize, Mother Erna," the man said.

Taehyung snapped his gaze to the old lady. That was Mother Erna? He had heard stories about her and her excellence with healing during the Crimson Death. He had never imagined meeting her in person unless he wounded himself beyond repair. Yet there she was.

The man continued. "I heard what happened at the Royal Council and did not know who else to call. I—"

Mother Erna raised a hand. "Let it be, Lord Ashkiba. It seems as though your judgment was correct."

Lord Ashkiba's shoulders sagged, but the distress did not leave his eyes. No one else uttered a word as Mother Erna fixed her sights on something behind Taehyung and made her way across the melting sea of ice. Passing Taehyung, Mother Erna crouched in front of Yoongi as the Bellan guards parted.

Yoongi was unconscious, and blood seeped beneath his hand that covered his wounded shoulder. Fingering around his hand, Mother Erna pushed it away and revealed a horrifying sight. His skin was blue-tinged gray.

"Ice," Mother Erna whispered, peeking at Jimin, who was still kneeling with his head downcast.

Self-conscious, Taehyung rested his hand over the arm that was nearly frozen. Was his skin like that, too? Almost as if he heard his thoughts, Namjoon placed a hand on Taehyung's shoulder and nodded. "You need a healer."

Remembering what Namjoon had told him earlier, Taehyung felt sick. He had almost lost his arm. Without Taehyung realizing, Mother Erna had risen to her feet, glaring at everyone her eyes could reach.

"This is no time to sever fragile alliances and create antipathies between kingdoms. Even with allies, our strength is not enough, yet what are you doing!?" She yelled out the last words, banging her staff for emphasis.

"Mother Erna, I'm sorry," Jimin said, his silver hair masking his face.

Mother Erna's stern expression wavered ever so slightly. "Jimin, we'll converse at a later time."

Jimin curled in on himself as Mother Erna continued, her voice carrying through the hall and making the hair stand on the back of Taehyung's neck. "You are the heirs of Kartas—the future of this world—yet you do this?" She pointed at Yoongi before thrusting her staff at Jimin.

Taehyung was perplexed at first because, as far as he could tell, Jimin was the perpetrator, not the victim. But once Taehyung looked at him a little closer, he noticed the frost covering his red hands, biting up towards his arms. Taehyung had to sink his teeth into his lips to stifle a gasp.

"The monarchs are dead," Mother Erna stated as a matter of fact. "I've checked their injuries and have confirmed my ominous premonitions." There was a brisk alteration in her tone, hidden under layers of facades but very present. Silence pervaded the uneasiness. "I fear that the time has come."

Namjoon and Hoseok stiffened beside Taehyung, who felt a sudden wave of pressure wrap around him. He knew this was what the Royal Council was supposed to address. Deep down, he knew the assassination was no accident. All he chose to do was refuse to confront the black ink staining the perfect picture. Just like before, he backed himself into a corner with his denial, only to face his problems in a much more difficult circumstance when there was no picture. Only ink.

A sizzle of power hissed within his blood, his dark element stretching the darkness towards him, shading the red room mahogany.

Life was cruel.

Mother Erna's eyes were penetrating, sticking spikes in all of the wrong places.

And Taehyung had experienced its injustices first hand.

The warped staff came down with an almighty smash. It sounded oddly similar to Elyagon falling to his knees when he had seen the blood coating Taehyung's hands. To the loud, silent boom echoing between them as two reflections stared at each other in a smothering serenity belying the apparent sin.

Everyone was still except Mother Erna, who released a shaky breath. "The Demon Days are here."