In the grand halls of the Armstrong estate, tension brewed like a storm waiting to break.
The heavy tick of the grandfather clock echoed through the hallway, each second a silent reminder of approaching chaos.
Inside one of the lavish sitting rooms, Elia sat by the window, watching her younger brother Christan pace the floor like a caged beast. He was biting his thumb again—sothing he only did when deeply agitated.
"Would you stop that? You’re going to make it bleed."
Elia finally snapped, unable to stand the sight any longer.
Christan turned sharply toward her, his eyes narrowed and filled with worry.
"You don’t get it, Elia. Father called Kyle back."
She frowned slightly, though she remained composed.
"So? That doesn’t necessarily an—"
Christan cut her off.
"It only ans one thing. He’s going to na Kyle the heir."
At that, Elia grew silent. She had the sa suspicion gnawing at her mind, but she wasn’t as prone to outward panic as her brother.
She folded her hands neatly on her lap and gave him a asured look.
"Father might have called him back because of the war. He wants all his children near."
Christan scoffed.
"Do you even believe that?"
No. She didn’t. And the fact that Christan had spoken the thought aloud made it all the more real.
Elia sighed, brushing a strand of platinum hair behind her ear.
"It doesn’t change anything. We’ll prepare. If Father has plans, we’ll make our own."
Christan gave her a look of disbelief before nodding tightly.
"You better. Because if Kyle cos back with any formal announcent, everything we’ve worked for is over."
She was about to reply when the doors to the conference room creaked open. Both siblings turned sharply, expecting a servant or perhaps even their father.
But what entered was a teenage boy, barely past fifteen, soaked in blood.
He walked with a casual air, crimson stains covering his fine white shirt and dripping from his fingers.
A crooked smile stretched his face, as if he found amusent in their horror. And then, with unnatural calmness, he spoke:
"Brother. Sister. It’s been a while."
The air dropped ten degrees in an instant.
Elia and Christan stood, every muscle in their bodies going taut.
Christan was already reaching for the dagger hidden beneath the table. Elia, though not as fast, felt a cold fury rise in her chest.
Nigel stood before them, a boy painted in blood and wearing a half-smile that chilled the air more than the stains on his clothes. Elia narrowed her eyes, not yet sitting back down.
"Nigel? What are you doing back already? Your last letter said you wouldn’t return for another two days."
she said, arms folding across her chest.
The boy sighed and shrugged, as though the explanation were too mundane for his tastes.
"I got bored. And tired. And I don’t like this welco. I expected at least a hug. Or maybe a change of clothes."
He gestured vaguely at the tension in the room.
Christan’s lips curled into a sneer.
"You look like a corpse dragged out of a battlefield."
Nigel gave him a wide-eyed look of mock offense.
"Is that any way to greet your beloved younger brother?"
"You’re not beloved."
Christan growled under his breath.
Elia gave him a sharp look to shut him up before turning back to Nigel.
"You were supposed to be on the border. Did sothing happen?"
Nigel waved it off lazily.
"War is boring when you’re winning. I left the rest to the commanders."
Then his gaze sharpened, far too perceptive for soone his age.
"So... where’s elder brother Kyle?"
Both Elia and Christan stiffened.
Nigel tilted his head, clearly amused.
"What, no one wants to tell ?"
"You should go bathe. Maybe scrub that personality off while you’re at it."
Christan muttered.
Before the insult could escalate, Elia stepped between them and gave a dainty cough into her hand. Her voice was smooth and controlled when she spoke, but the warning in it was unmistakable.
"Kyle is... out right now. He’ll be back by tomorrow. You’ll et him then."
Nigel’s smile faded just a bit.
"Tomorrow?"
"Yes. Until then, you should rest. And try not to draw unnecessary attention. If Father finds out you ca back without orders, it’ll be your head he’s after."
"Father won’t kill . I’m too useful."
Nigel said with certainty.
But after a mont of thought, he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.
"Still, I guess if I make trouble, it might inconvenience brother Kyle."
That made Elia blink.
There was sothing undeniably off about Nigel. He was a prodigy in battle, ruthless even by royal standards, and cunning beyond his age.
But when it ca to Kyle—he acted strangely respectful. Even reverent.
Christan noticed too.
"You care about Kyle?"
He asked, incredulous.
Nigel shrugged again.
"He’s the only one who didn’t look at like I was broken. The only one who didn’t flinch when I... ca back the way I did. So I’ll try not to make things worse for him. For now."
He flashed a bloody grin.
Elia sighed, nodding slowly.
"Then wait here. Bathe, change, eat. We’ll inform you when Kyle arrives."
Nigel gave a two-fingered salute before walking off, trailing blood down the pristine hallway.
Christan cursed under his breath, fingers clenching into fists as he watched Nigel’s blood-streaked back vanish around the corridor.
"It’s not fair. Why does he act like a loyal pup in front of Kyle, but like a demon in front of ?"
He muttered, voice taut with frustration.
Elia, still seated calmly, gave him a sidelong glance.
"The world isn’t fair, Christan. You should know better than to expect fairness from it."
"That’s not the point. He’s our brother too."
Christan snapped.
Elia stood and walked toward the window, her voice soft.
"And yet, he chose Kyle."
Christan fell silent, the weight of those words sinking in.
Elia continued, her tone quiet but firm, "Nigel listens to Kyle because Kyle accepted him when no one else would.
When we all treated him like a ticking ti bomb... Kyle treated him like a person."
He didn’t respond.
The mory of their younger brother, covered in blood after a training accident, laughing when no one else could stand the sight of him—how could they have known what he would beco?
Elia turned back to Christan and t his eyes.
"Don’t go after him, Christan. You’re the one with too much to lose here."
"I’m not an idiot. I know my boundaries. I’m not going to throw myself into a ss over a mad dog."
Christan replied with a snort.
Elia arched an eyebrow.
"You say that, but you look like you’re one step away from storming down the hall."
He exhaled slowly, releasing the tension in his shoulders.
"I just don’t like how easily everything seems to fall into Kyle’s lap. Even the monsters kneel for him."
Elia’s expression softened, her gaze distant.
"Maybe it’s not ease. Maybe it’s the weight of what he’s willing to carry. Kyle’s path isn’t sothing I envy."
The silence stretched between them.
Outside, Queen drifted silently above the Armstrong estate, its awareness brushing over the threads of fate connecting the siblings.
It had no heart, no emotions, yet it could sense the brewing storm in the souls of n—and it watched with interest.
This family, fractured yet bound by blood, was now at the center of fate’s unfolding script. And Kyle... Kyle was the one dragging them all toward destiny.
Christan finally leaned back and sighed.
"Fine. I won’t do anything stupid."
Elia nodded.
"Good. We’ll need to be sharp. Once Kyle returns, things won’t be the sa anymore."
And outside, sowhere in the vast threads Queen spun across the skies, another knot tightened.
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