Another fire sign shimred across Vivianne’s body, glowing faintly beneath her skin like molten gold, another sign of her bond with another spirit king. The air rippled with heat, and in a blink, Undine and Tempest appeared in their smaller forms.
Both turned toward the source of the disturbance, giving a collective scoff when Afrit materialized in a burst of fla beside them. The fire spirit king, once towering and fierce, now took on a mischievous shape: a small ember with a grinning face, hovering midair like a flickering will-o’-wisp.
Undine folded her tiny arms with a splash of droplets. "Another dramatic entrance," she said, her voice bubbling like a stream.
"He should’ve put drama in his na instead of Afrit," Tempest muttered dryly, arms crossed, the faint sound of whirling wind in his tone.
Afrit’s eyes narrowed, his flas flaring as if to grow larger in protest. "Careful, windbag, or I’ll dry your precious water next," he barked.
Undine rolled her eyes. "You always say that." The three of them began bickering instantly, their voices overlapping, a chorus of elental rivalry that filled the air with sparks, ripples, and gusts.
For those who could see it, the sight is almost adorable. The three spirit kings, water, wind, and fire, are in their small form, with their expressive bickering like children, yet sohow harmonious in their chaos.
Undine’s little face scrunched up whenever Afrit puffed a spark too close to her, and Tempest’s invisible sighs sent her droplets scattering every ti they argued. Even in their annoyance, there’s sothing warm and familiar between them, a bond forged through ages of coexistence, sharper than friendship, deeper than rivalry.
But for those who could not see them, the scene is bewildering. All they see are strange bursts of movent, the air stirring without reason, a faint splash of water appearing out of nowhere, and a flicker of fire hovering midair.
Roxanne, standing beside Vivianne, watched the argunt with a crooked smile. "Oh, this one is cute," she said, reaching out to nudge Afrit with her finger. The little fla sputtered indignantly, puffing a burst of sparks in her direction before darting away, circling her hand like a tiny cot.
"Watch it, mortal!" Afrit snapped, though his tone lacked any true malice. Roxanne only chuckled, clearly entertained.
Among all the elental kings, the fire spirits are the only ones known to ever share kinship with demons, and Afrit as their king is no exception. To see him here, beside the Grand Duchess of Borgia, felt both strange and fitting.
Marvessa stood several paces away, frozen in awe. Her massive fra seed smaller now as she hid herself behind Mara’s bigger body. The air is heavy, too heavy for her. Two royal bloodlines stood before her, their presence overwhelming: the Grand Duke and her mother, Princess Morwenna, who has turned out to be the sa spirit bearer as she is.
And now, the demon king himself had chosen to appear. It’s a sight Marvessa had never imagined she would witness, not even in nightmares or dreams. "Oh," ca a voice from the front, soft yet sharp enough to cut through the noise. Morwenna.
The forr princess, Roxanne’s mother, the oga princess who broke all the tradition and mated with a demon king. She’s currently watching her intently. Her eyes, pale and cold as glass, caught Marvessa’s like a snare.
"I see the emperor’s shadow knight," Morwenna murmured. "A spirit bearer, too. Co here."
Marvessa’s heart stopped. Her body moved before she could resist, her muscles tightening against her will. Panic seized her chest. She tried to plant her feet, but her legs betrayed her, carrying her forward step by step toward Morwenna. She cursed under her breath, every word shaking with fury and fear.
By the ti Marvessa reached the royal, she was already kneeling, her head bowed low. Morwenna’s gaze pressed down like a blade. "Yes, Your Majesty," she said, her voice low and controlled, though her pulse hamred violently in her ears. The weight of the oath in her blood is controlling her, clearly not as strong as when Roxanne commands her. But still, it makes her kneel.
Morwenna tilted her head, studying her. "I can always sense the oath that binds the blood of the Shadow Knights," she said softly. "Why are you here?"
Marvessa swallowed, her throat dry. There’s no point in lying, not that she can do it in front of the royal bloodline or when the spirit kings are watching her. "I left the knighthood," she said finally. "I killed nine of my comrades... because I found my master."
A silence stirred across the room. Even the spirits stopped bickering, their glowing forms turning toward her. Morwenna’s lips curved, not kindly, but with a knowing amusent. "Your master," she repeated slowly, her voice low like a serpent’s hiss. "The spirit king bearer?"
Marvessa lifted her eyes just slightly, enough to et that gaze without breaking decorum. "Yes, Your Majesty," she said.
Morwenna’s smile deepened, sharp and radiant all at once. The faint light of her eyes glimred with a strange delight. "How loyal," she murmured. "And how convenient. The emperor’s shadow now kneels to the Grand Duchess’s light."
Roxanne raised an eyebrow at that but said nothing, her lips twitching into a small, knowing grin. Vivianne, anwhile, just watched, her calm composure masking the faint ripple of power that ran through her hand as the spirits hovered closer. Undine rested on her shoulder like a drop of light, Tempest swirled and then sat at Roxanne’s shoulder like an old friend, and Afrit hovered near Roxanne, occasionally spitting sparks of irritation at the other two.
And Marvessa, kneeling in the midst of it all, felt as if she stood at the heart of two worlds colliding. Spirits shimred in the air like living light; the aura of royalty pressed down on her shoulders, sharp and cold, while the hum of ancient power vibrated through her bones. She could barely breathe.
Morwenna’s voice, smooth yet piercing, broke through the quiet. "Your mate? Mara?"
The way she said the na carried familiarity, almost fondness. Of course, Morwenna knew Mara from when she was a baby, Mara, daughter of the beastman soldier and the demon female who still served in Morwenna and Ashkareth’s sanctuary.
Mara straightened her posture, tail flicking once in amusent. "Not yet, Your Majesty," she replied with a small smile that made Marvessa’s blood run cold.
Marvessa turned to her sharply, eyes wide. "Not yet?" Her thoughts scread in disbelief.
But Mara only t her stare with a playful glance and a shrug that said, "What’s the harm?"
"Not yet?" Morwenna repeated, her tone laced with intrigue, though her smile remained unreadable. "Then perhaps soon. It’s rare to see a shadow knight kneel for anyone outside the crown’s command." She then stares back at Vivianne.
In front of the grand foyer of the mansion, Ian finally found his voice again after standing frozen for what felt like ages. "L-let’s get inside," he said quickly, glancing at the others. His tone tried to sound composed, but the tremor in his voice betrayed his nerves.
Rose had already sprinted off monts ago, calling for the butler to prepare the reception room. Servants hurried to prepare for the reception room, the refreshnt, and then for dinner, doing everything as fast as they could and as perfect as they could.
Ian led them through the spacious corridor toward the reception room. The old portraits of Wyndham ancestors lined the walls, each face stern and cold, as if silently judging the sudden convergence of royalty, demon, and spirit within their domain.
"Forgive the disarray," Ian said, voice steadier now. "We weren’t expecting..."
"The end of the world?" Ashkareth offered dryly, one brow lifting.
Ian froze for a beat, then forced a faint smile. "Sothing like that."
Morwenna’s lips curved, faint amusent softening her otherwise calculating expression. "Relax, Young Lord. We co not as conquerors, but as guests. For now."
Following them is Marvessa, because Vivianne motions her to follow inside the mansion. Mara then gave Marvessa’s shoulder a small pat, her tone almost lazy. "Co on, Knight. You don’t want to make them wait, do you?"
Marvessa’s jaw clenched, but she obeyed, rising with a frown while still staring at Mara in disbelief. She still felt the weight of eyes on her; as they began to move toward the inner halls, the tension did not ease. The air itself seed heavier, thick with unspoken questions and buried histories.
Marvessa walked behind Mara, her gaze briefly darting toward the spirits that still hovered faintly: Undine’s soft glow, Tempest’s invisible ripple, and Afrit’s flickering spark. To her, they were both beautiful and terrifying. These aren’t stories told by the old knights in taverns; these are the ancient forces themselves, walking alongside mortals.
Mara must have felt her unease, because she reached back and briefly brushed Marvessa’s hand, a silent reassurance, bold and careless as always. "You’re doing good."
Morwenna glanced at Marvessa once more, her expression unreadable. "You’ve chosen your path," she said softly, almost to herself. "Let’s see if you can walk it without breaking."
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