The chamber had already been drowned in grief.

  Ren's blood still spread across the marble, Seri's koi bond flickering weaker and weaker as its magic drained. Her tiny hands pressed desperately against his chest, her cheeks wet, her voice hoarse from calling his name.

  Then—

  Crack.

  Elly's cry rang out, sharp, broken, as the little wooden blade struck her head.

  Seri's eyes shot up.

  For a heartbeat, her world froze.

  The boy stood there, no taller than she was, clutching his wooden sword with both hands, his little chest heaving, his face red with the force of his own scream:

  "MONSTERS!! You all are bad people! Leave this kingdom!!"

  Seri blinked. Once. Twice.

  Her brain—still scrambled from Ren's blood, from Elly's sobbing beside her—couldn't piece it together.

  Why... why did he hit Elly?

  Why is he saying that?

  Monsters?

  Her tiny hands trembled as they hovered over Ren's lifeless body. Her chest tightened until she couldn't breathe.

  Ren is dead. He's gone. And instead of helping—

  Instead of caring—

  They call us monsters.

  Her throat burned. Her stomach twisted. The air felt too heavy, her grief boiling, spilling over, mixing with the only thing that could survive in her small body after so much loss: rage.

  Her tiny voice, normally sweet, cracked into something raw, something jagged:

  Seri:

  "Elly's crying, Ren's not breathing, and all you do is—hit her? And call us monsters?! No! You're the monster! You're the one! YOU!!"

  The next moment was pure instinct.

  Seri lunged.

  She tackled the boy, both of them toppling onto the cold marble floor with a harsh smack. His wooden sword clattered away, rolling uselessly across the stone.

  Seri's fists—so small, so fragile—slammed down with a strength born of heartbreak. Once. Twice. Again.

  Her tears flew with every strike, her voice breaking, spitting curses no child her age should even know.

  Seri:

  "Why?! Why did you do that?!"

  "Why are you saying that?!"

  "Ren's dead! Don't you get it?! He's dead!!"

  She pounded on his chest, his arms, his face—anywhere she could reach—her little body trembling with fury and despair.

  The boy flailed beneath her, kicking, thrashing, trying to shove her off, but Seri clung to him like a wild animal, refusing to let go.

  Seri:

  "You don't care! None of you care! All you do is call him names, spit on him, call him a monster—HE WASN'T A MONSTER!"

  Her fists rained down harder, her voice shrill and ragged, her sobs twisting every word into something more broken.

  Seri:

  "He saved us! He saved me! He wasn't scary—he was kind! He smiled, he... he made us laugh, he gave us hope, he..."

  Her words fell apart into sobs as she slammed her fists again and again, her tears dripping onto the boy's cheeks as much as her punches landed.

  The boy beneath her wailed, high-pitched and panicked, his little hands trying desperately to shield his face. He cried for his mother, for help, for someone to make the nightmare stop.

  But Seri didn't stop.

  She couldn't.

  The dam had burst, and all the grief, all the rage, all the confusion she had bottled up since Ren collapsed was pouring out now—out through her fists, her voice, her tears.

  Seri:

  "You don't understand. You'll never understand. Ren was everything for me—and you call him nothing. You call him worse than nothing. You call him a monster. How dare you. HOW DARE YOU!"

  Her fists slowed, her body trembling, her sobs louder than her curses now. She pinned him down, her small hands gripping his shirt as her forehead pressed against his chest, her cries wracking her tiny frame.

  Seri:

  "Give him back... give him back... just give him back to us! You can't... you can't take him away..."

  The boy beneath her cried out, his voice breaking, terrified, his small hands pushing weakly at her shoulders. He didn't understand either. He thought he was being a hero. He thought he was doing what his mother told him was right.

  But to Seri—he was just another voice, another knife, another cruel hand trying to tear Ren away from them even in death.

  Her nails dug into his shirt as she sobbed, her voice shaking the chamber more than any noble's words.

  Seri:

  "He wasn't a monster. He wasn't. He was my family! This family is the only one I have left!"

  The guards finally moved, startled shouts rising as they rushed forward, but by then the scene had already burned itself into everyone's memory—Seri's tiny form, drenched in blood and tears, clinging to a boy no older than she was, her cries of grief louder than his screams of fear.

  It was not a battle of strength. It was a collision of innocence.

  Two children—too young for this world of blood and monsters—torn apart by the hatred of adults.

  And all around them, Stray Dawn could only watch—too broken, too grieving, too hollowed out to stop her in time.

  Rica pulled Seri back, cradling her small frame against her chest. The boy's mother rushed forward, nearly tripping on her gown, throwing herself over her son as he whimpered and clutched her sleeve.

  "My child!" she cried, her voice breaking with both relief and fury. She checked his face, his arms, trembling hands searching for wounds that were never there. Finding none, her expression twisted, and she rounded on Rica with venom.

  "You dare—" her words cracked like a whip, "—you dare lay hands on a noble's son? This is proof! Proof that you and your rabble are nothing but dangerous beasts wearing human faces! She struck him—look! A child!"

  The chamber erupted. Nobles rose to their feet, voices like blades slashing through the air.

  "Execution! She must be executed!"

  "Savage girl! Even now she attacks the innocent!"

  "They're feral—every last one of them! What more proof does this court need?"

  Kristie's voice rose above the storm, raw and shaking.

  Kristie:

  "He was mocking him! You all saw it—you let him! Seri defended her family, and now you twist it against her?"

  Her words only sharpened their scorn.

  "Listen to her bark—no shame, no remorse!"

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

  "Stray Dawn corrupts even their women into dogs!"

  Kristie's face burned with rage and tears as she fought to answer them, hurling back words that only fed their jeers. Her fists shook at her sides, her body trembling like it might tear itself apart under the weight of so much hatred.

  Then Rica's voice cut through—low, firm, but heavy with exhaustion. She reached for Kristie's hand.

  Rica:

  "Stop. Kristie... enough. It's not worth it anymore."

  Kristie's head snapped toward her, wild-eyed, shaking her head.

  Kristie:

  "How can you say that? They're spitting on Ren—on Seri—on all of us! If I stay quiet, it's like saying they're right—"

  But Rica only gripped tighter, her voice breaking.

  Rica:

  "Please. If you keep fighting, they'll take more from us. Don't give them reason. Don't let them."

  Kristie froze, her breath ragged, tears streaking her cheeks as the nobles' laughter rang louder.

  A knight shoved forward, face set, hand outstretched toward Seri.

  "No!" Rica tried to shield her, but two guards seized her arms, forcing her back. Seri's cries tore through the chamber as the knight advanced. Josh, Iver, Marian, Rej, Kristie—all surged forward, only to be slammed back by armored men, their shouts drowned in the uproar.

  Iver:

  "Seri!"

  Seri's small hands clutched at Rica's dress, her sobs like daggers. Rica wrenched free, desperation lending her strength, throwing herself back between the knight and the child.

  The knight's gauntleted hand hovered—an inch from her face, an inch from Seri—

  —and then stopped.

  ....

  Because another hand had caught it.

  Prince Luther's.

  The chamber froze. His grip was iron, holding the knight's arm in place. His gaze—cold as winter steel—swept across the hall.

  Luther:

  "Enough."

  The command struck the chamber like thunder. The knights froze, their hands still hovering over their weapons. Slowly, reluctantly, they stepped back. Even the mother who had screamed for blood dared not speak again, her lips trembling as her fury shrank beneath the prince's shadow.

  Luther's eyes swept the nobles. His words came out sharper, colder.

  Luther:

  "Leave. All of you. Now."

  Murmurs broke out immediately. Some nobles bristled, questioning under their breath, their pride too great to bend so easily. But when his gaze fixed upon them, hard as a blade drawn against their throats, silence returned.

  Luther:

  "Do not make me say it again."

  The threat was not shouted. It was quiet. Absolute. It carried the weight of steel and authority.

  One by one, the nobles rose. Their silks and jewels rustled as they made for the exit, their heads bowed low though resentment burned in their eyes. The chamber emptied like a tide receding from the shore, until only the prince, Stray Dawn, Ren's lifeless body, and his grieving friends remained.

  For a moment, silence lingered. Only Seri's soft sobs broke the stillness. Rica knelt beside her, holding her close, brushing the tears from her face though her own cheeks were wet.

  The heavy doors creaked open again. King Aldric entered with Queen Seraphine at his side. Their presence brought a gravity unlike any noble before them. They did not speak at first. They simply looked at the broken group before them, the boy lying still, and the girl trembling in fear and grief.

  The Queen was the first to move. She crossed the chamber with slow, graceful steps, lowering herself so her eyes were level with Seri's. Her hand rested gently on the girl's shoulder.

  Seraphine:

  "My child... I am so sorry."

  Her voice cracked ever so slightly, betraying the weight of sorrow she carried as both queen and mother.

  King Aldric stood behind her, his expression somber, his voice deep with grief.

  Aldric:

  "You have suffered much... more than any should bear. And we failed to shield you from this."

  Their words did not mend, but they soothed—like hands pressing against wounds that would never fully heal.

  Then, another sound broke through—the hurried steps of someone smaller.

  Princess Arienne, her little frame almost stumbling as she rushed forward, threw herself into Seri's arms.

  Arienne:

  "Seri!"

  Her small hands clutched at Seri's sleeves, her face wet with tears.

  Arienne:

  "I'm sorry—I'm so sorry! I couldn't do anything... not for you, not for Ren, not for anyone..."

  Her sobs shook her tiny body, her apologies tumbling out in broken fragments. Seri could only wrap her arms around her, crying harder, as if the princess's sorrow gave her permission to finally break.

  Behind her, footsteps followed with more dignity, but no less grief. Duke Edric Sylvestry entered, his expression carved with exhaustion. At his side was his daughter, Clarisse Aloutte Sylvestry, her pale hands gripping her dress tightly.

  Clarisse did not speak. She simply walked up to where Arienne clung to Seri and joined them. She slipped her arms around them both, her tears falling quietly, without words.

  There, the three girls held each other—princess, noble's daughter, and commoner's child—bound together not by title or blood, but by grief.

  The chamber was still. No judgment. No politics. Just loss, shared in silence.

  King Aldric stepped forward, the weight of his crown seeming heavier than ever. His hand trembled slightly as he looked at the broken circle before him — Stray Dawn, gathered around Ren's body like fragments of a shattered family. His voice cracked when he spoke.

  King Aldric:

  "I... I cannot say how deeply I regret this. We sought peace, yet you were met with scorn. We hoped for understanding, yet your bonds were mocked and crushed beneath the arrogance of the court. Stray Dawn, I... I have failed you. Failed as a King. Failed as a father to this Kingdom. And for that, I beg your forgiveness."

  Queen Seraphine, standing beside him, laid a hand over her heart, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

  Queen Seraphine:

  "Aldric speaks true. This Kingdom owes you a debt far greater than you deserve to bear. You should have been protected, honored... not brought to this. As Queen, as a mother — I am sorry."

  The silence that followed was suffocating, filled only by the soft sobs of Seri, the quiet weeping of Arienne pressed against her friend's shoulder, and the trembling breaths of those who could not yet find words.

  It was Prince Luther who broke that silence, his voice steady but grave as he looked to Rica, kneeling at Ren's side.

  Prince Luther:

  "As tragic as this moment is... we cannot linger here forever. If Veyla's words hold truth, then time is slipping through our fingers. War will come, whether we wish it or not. And when it does... the Kingdom will need you. Stray Dawn's strength may yet be the shield that saves us all."

  Rica's head lifted slowly, her eyes red and wild, her breath ragged as if each word from him was a fresh wound cutting into her chest.

  Rica:

  "...You need us? You want us to fight? To fight for the very Kingdom that spat on us... that trampled everything we are?"

  Her voice broke, rising with every syllable as she clenched her fists.

  Rica:

  "To fight a war we were never meant to be part of!? After everything you just witnessed—you still dare to ask us that!?"

  Luther opened his mouth but found no words. Rica snarled through her tears, reaching forward and grabbing his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze.

  Rica:

  "Look at them, Luther! Look!"

  She wrenched his face toward the others, her voice trembling, sharp as shattered glass.

  Rica:

  "Look at Seri... at Iver... at Elly... at me! Look at us!"

  Her hand shook as she released him, her shoulders collapsing beneath grief and fury alike.

  Rica:

  "We can't fight. We don't want to fight anymore."

  Her words hung in the air like a final verdict, heavy and suffocating. Around them, Stray Dawn's grief seemed to deepen — the truth of her words cutting through all the silence, all the sorrow, with the sharpness of reality.

  Rica's breath trembled, her eyes burning with both anger and grief. Then, with finality, her voice cut through the hall like a blade.

  Stray Dawn, remained quiet. Their heads down, letting Rica crack and express what she is feeling riight now.

  Then....

  Rica:

  "We're leaving the Kingdom. We don't want to take part in this war."

  The silence that followed was suffocating. The air itself seemed to turn heavy, as though the walls of the throne room pressed closer in disbelief.

  Queen Seraphine stepped forward, her regal composure faltering.

  Queen Seraphine:

  "Please... think once more about your decision. The Kingdom needs every strength it has to prevent this disaster."

  King Aldric's hands tightened, his voice ragged, more fatherly than kingly.

  King Aldric:

  "I beg of you, Rica. I beg of Stray Dawn. Do not abandon us now. I know we've wronged you, trampled on your bonds when we should have cherished them, but—without you... this war may consume everything."

  But Rica could not be swayed. Her jaw set, her heart cold with resolve. She had already decided. The weight of Stray Dawn now rested on her shoulders. Their leader—the one who bore their burdens, who stood between them and the world—was no longer here. And so she had to carry them forward. Survival came before sympathy.

  Rica:

  "No. My words are final. Ren is no longer with us... and I will not gamble the lives of my family for a Kingdom that only showed us pain. I will not risk them again."

  Her voice cracked, but she stood unshaken.

  Princess Arienne stepped forward, desperation glittering in her eyes, her lips trembling as she reached a hand toward Rica.

  Princess Arienne:

  "Rica, please... just think. Please, don't turn your back on us. Don't turn your back on me."

  But before she could continue, Prince Luther raised a hand to stop her. His face was pale, solemn, his throat tight with unspoken words. He could see it clearly: nothing would change Stray Dawn's choice.

  And then—

  A faint glow spread across Ren's shoulder, where his sigil rested beneath the fabric of his clothes. At first, it flickered weakly, like the dying flame of a candle.

  Josh's eyes widened.

  Josh:

  "Wait... is that...?"

  The glow pulsed, brighter, hotter, yet cold, until it illuminated the room with a crystalline blue light. The air shifted. Frost whispered along the marble floor.

  Marian gasped, stepping back.

  Marian:

  "That's... no way..."

  The light swelled, bursting outward in a soft wave of frostfire. And from Ren's body, a form emerged—fur like snow burning with pale azure flame, tails curling with frost and embers alike.

  Vultherin.

  Ren's Frostflame Fox, his very soul's bond, stood tall and proud in the center of the hall. Its presence was overwhelming—serene, yet suffocating, as though the very essence of winter and fire had taken form.

  The entire chamber froze in shock.

  King Aldric's lips parted, whispering disbelief.

  King Aldric:

  "Impossible..."

  Even Prince Luther, who rarely faltered, found himself rooted to the spot.

  But among them all, it was Elly who stepped forward. Her eyes shimmered, tears threatening to spill as her lips parted in awe, her voice barely a whisper.

  Elly:

  "Vultherin..."

  The name hung in the air, fragile and trembling, as though she were calling a memory back to life.