[Third Person].
Evening settled over the Oatrun Estate with a quiet heaviness.
Not long after dusk, Elder Randall returned and imdiately sent word for Draven, Dennis, Oscar Elrod, and Beta Jeffery Allen to et him in his private study.
The room was solemn when they gathered.
Randall stood near the desk, hands clasped behind his back, his expression grave. The mont the door closed, he spoke.
"King Alderic has not regained consciousness," he said without preamble. "The physician advises we give it three days."
A short silence followed.
"The relapse," Randall continued, "is due to the poison. Whatever was used back then never truly left his system."
Dennis’s jaw tightened. "Whoever did it was vicious," he said coldly. "That poison crippled him permanently. He has never fully recovered since."
Randall’s gaze shifted slowly and deliberately until it landed on Draven. "Given Alderic’s condition," he said, "you must prepare to take the throne within three months."
Draven didn’t respond imdiately; he continued to listen patiently.
"You will begin attending cabinet etings," Randall went on. "You must learn the inner workings of the palace, the ministries, the court procedures. You will need to understand what it ans to rule and not just command."
Draven inclined his head once. There was little else to say.
"At this point," Randall added, his tone pragmatic, "even if Alderic regains partial consciousness, he will be unfit to rule. A sick King cannot sit on the throne."
The words sat uneasily with Draven, but he understood the lack of sentint. This was governance. Not rcy.
"Discussions regarding your coronation will begin soon," Randall continued. "Most likely within the sa three-month window. However, until a formal announcent is made, there will be no visible movent regarding your ascension."
"I understand," Draven said.
Randall nodded. "You are all dismissed," he said, already making his way out.
The four of them rose to their feet. As Dennis and Jeffery took their leave, Oscar lingered, waiting until the door closed behind the others.
"This wasn’t random," Oscar said quietly. "One of the Elders poisoned Alderic. We both know that."
Draven t his gaze. "Yes."
"The problem," Oscar continued, "is that there is no evidence. And those n—every last one of them, has eyes and ears planted all over the palace."
Draven remained silent.
Oscar’s voice sharpened, slipping fully into his role as advisor. "When you ascend, you should dismiss everyone who directly served King Alderic. Keep none of them. If you don’t, those sa Elders will dispose of you the way they crippled him."
Draven’s expression grew solemn.
"You have ti," Oscar said firmly. "Use it. Make a list. Choose your own people, loyal ones from the packs. When the coronation cos, those positions must already be decided."
After a pause, Draven nodded. "We will discuss this in detail soon. For now, compile a list of trustworthy candidates from all packs. I will review them and decide."
Oscar bowed his head. "I will begin imdiately."
He excused himself and left the study.
Draven released a slow, heavy breath. Then he turned and began walking down the long corridor, the weight of a crown he had not yet worn already pressing down on his shoulders.
---
anwhile, at the other end, the room was dim when redith stirred.
For a mont, she lay still, disoriented, before realizing the light filtering through the curtains had deepened into blue-black dusk. The sky had already darkened.
She frowned slightly. ’I didn’t an to sleep this long...’
After lunch, exhaustion had crept over her more heavily than she had expected. She had only intended to rest her eyes, nothing more. Now, fully awake and oddly alert, she wondered if she had ruined her chance of getting a proper night’s sleep after dinner.
A yawn slipped free as she stretched and swung her legs off the bed.
Hunger hit her imdiately—sharp and insistent, paired with a strange, lingering fatigue that clung to her limbs despite the long nap.
Shaking her head lightly, redith rose and noticed the small sitting area by the window. A teapot sat waiting on the table with two ceramic cups beside it.
She paused, then walked over. The tea was still warm when she poured herself a cup, the steam curling faintly into the air.
redith settled onto the sofa and sipped slowly, letting the warmth spread through her chest. She had no complaints—if anything, it was comforting.
But as the cup lowered, a crease ford between her brows.
Now that the event was over—successful, largely because of Draven’s suggestion and support, she felt a tug of obligation. Gratitude, yes. But more than that.
’I should do sothing,’ she thought. ’Sothing that actually matters.’
Her thoughts drifted, then settled firmly on one person. Draven’s mother.
redith stiffened slightly at the realization. With everything that had happened over the past weeks, the idea of visiting her had slipped entirely from her mind. And Draven—he hadn’t ntioned it once.
’Maybe he is waiting for to ask,’ she reasoned.
If she truly wanted answers to confirm her doubts—she knew Draven wanted as well, then she couldn’t keep avoiding it. Tomorrow evening, if ti allowed, she would go. She would face it herself before Draven brought it up.
The resolve settled, followed imdiately by a small knot of dread. redith exhaled softly and lifted her cup again, forcing herself to drink.
The door opened not long after. Draven stepped inside, the quiet click pulling her attention up at once. He glanced at her on the sofa, tea in hand.
"You’re awake," he said casually. "Did you just wake up from your nap?"
"Yes," redith replied. "Just now. I didn’t realize I slept for so long."
Draven crossed the room and sat beside her, his posture relaxed. "You’ve been pushing yourself hard for the past two weeks. You were bound to be exhausted. Getting rest was a good thing."
She nodded, setting her cup down in agreent. Then, lifting the teapot, she poured tea into the remaining empty cup and handed it to him.
Draven accepted it, their fingers brushing briefly, and took a sip quietly and unhurriedly, while the evening settled around them.
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