Chapter 25
“Cages. Rows and rows of them. Can you believe it?”
Cyprian shook his head as they walked, boots echoing on the white floor. “Moargan told me. I guess I’m glad evening class with Professor Dai ran late. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep all night.”
He glanced sideways. “He also said you put your hand on the screen when you saw one of the prisoners. What was that about?”
Mirel shrugged. “Nothing.”
But the lie sat heavy. The man’s face wouldn’t leave him, the eyes hollow, the quiet shock of seeing him again in the cage, the way frost had risen under his palm before he even knew what he was doing. He didn’t understand why it mattered, only that it did.
Cyprian seemed to wait for more, then let it go. “Anyway, have I ever told you Bekn was the one who trained me when I worked on board that spaceship?”
“Spaceship?”
They stopped at hospital security and were let through with a formal bow.
“Yup. How do you think I paid for that journey from Tulniri? I worked to get here. And Bekn was the one training me.”
They followed the nurse through the white corridors. Around them, the place looked abandoned. White floors, pale paintings, white halls, and no patients outside their rooms.
“Turns out, it wasn’t a coincidence he was there that day.
” Cyprian wrapped an arm around Mirel. “Now, stop worrying for a few minutes. Kylix is in charge of the case, so I’m sure it will all work out just fine.
He knows how to handle Bekn. Truly. Or let’s at least not talk about it right now, and just focus on seeing Mama. Okay?”
“Yes.” Mirel smiled and pressed himself against Cyprian, but his heart was not in it. There had been something about those images, about the way those people had sat there, locked up like cattle. He couldn’t shake it off.
They arrived in front of Celia’s door.
Mirel stopped Cyprian. “Why Bekn?”
Cyprian’s gaze flicked to Mirel’s eyes. He frowned. “What’s up, brother, your eye’s turned to frost. Are you still bothered about those prisoners?”
“No…” But he was. Or he wasn’t. He wasn’t sure. Something there wouldn’t leave him alone.
Cyprian let out a heavy sigh. “Okay. I met Bekn online when I researched my origins. Bekn, though I didn’t know it at the time, had information about my yellow eyes and Helion. I bought the information, then decided to come here.”
“So it was Bekn you met through the deep web?”
Cyprian shook his head. Somewhere a woman cried out and Mirel flinched. A tear iced at the corner of his eye. “No, it wasn’t Bekn, it was Theo. Turns out he’s some magical IT wonder, and…”
They stared at each other.
“Theo?” Mirel finally asked. His hand was already on his multi-slate.
“Yeah.” Cyprian frowned. “Hang on. But then, I’m sure Yure would have checked, right?”
“I’m sure he would have.”
“Cyprian?” Celia’s voice came through the door. “Is that you, my boy?”
“Mama. Yes. Later.” Cyprian mouthed, then opened the door.
“And Mirel. My light. Come in, boys!” She clapped her hands, elated. “Do you want to play with my dolls?”
“Sure, Mama.” Cyprian winked at Mirel, who smiled. Together, they sat down with Celia, her black hair in a loose bun, her frail legs dangling from the bed and almost swallowed by the oversized white gown. She climbed down and plopped onto the floor, introducing her dolls.
For a moment they played in peace.
When Mirel stood, the light on the floor blinked faintly under his steps.
The air in the corridor smelled of antiseptic and something faintly metallic, as if the place had been washed too many times.
He stopped by the door and listened. Machines hummed under the walls, steady and low, like the sound of a sleeping lung.
He walked. A nurse passed at the end of the hall and vanished without a sound. Somewhere a monitor beeped once, then went quiet.
Mirel brushed his fingers along the wall. The tile was cool. Frost stirred under his skin but didn’t form.
He thought of the cages. The eyes behind glass. The way the prisoners had sat so still. His stomach turned.
The cold inside him felt alive, restless, waiting for something.
Cyprian’s laughter carried faintly from behind the door. It sounded far away.
The quiet deepened. The hospital felt hollow, as if the walls were pretending to breathe.
Mirel kept walking.
His hands cooled down, his vision blurred, frost coating his irises.
There was something eerie about the place. And yet that wasn’t the problem. It was the air. Strange. Quiet. Calm.
Ice shot through his veins, hitting the wall. Mirel jumped when the frost changed into an arrow, pointing him toward another corridor. He hesitated. Was he going crazy? His hand touched his palm lightly, as if reaching for Kylix. Then he squared his shoulders and followed the indicated direction.
He had barely taken three steps when…
“Halt!”
Mirel froze.
A national guard stepped out of his security room. Middle-aged and rounded at the waist, he didn’t look like a man who chased criminals daily.
“I-I…” Mirel stuttered. His hand twitched.
“This is the Imperial Wing. It’s prohibited for the general public.”
“The Imperial Wing?” Mirel’s mind raced. “Oh, I—”
“He’s been invited.”
Mirel’s mouth fell open when Aviel came walking, black and gold Luminary uniform sharp under the lights.
“Follow me.”
Mirel staggered behind the golden-eyed man. The tension rose. His hand trembled. Ice wanted out, louder than it had ever been.
“She’s been waiting.”
“Who?”
Aviel turned the corner. A large wing with the national colors of Helion stretched ahead. On the side, his neck chained to the wall, stood Theo, dressed in white, blond curls giving him an angelic glow.
“You,” said Mirel.
Theo looked up.
Mirel’s hand touched the multi-slate again, but seeing the other guy like this made him hesitate.
“Come,” Aviel said.
Mirel followed, realizing Aviel hadn’t spoken to him at all. His flaring eyes were fixed on Theo.
“Come on, pet. I’m an impatient man. And you know what happens when I lose it.” He didn’t look away. “She’s waiting for you.”
Mirel hesitated. What had Cyprian said? That Aviel had been too occupied with his pet? What had that meant?
Theo bristled. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“No?” Aviel laughed. “No? So if I do this…” He took two steps forward. “You don’t feel like running away?”
“Fuck you.”
“No, pet boy, that’s not how this works, and you know it.”
The glass doors opened automatically. Mirel hurried inside.
Where the hospital had been white, the Imperial Wing was full of color. Against the wall hung photos. Mirel slowly passed them, eyes tracing the smiling faces. So much happiness.
Family portraits of the Imperial family.
Mirel smiled at a young version of Moargan and Helianth, blond and bright with those amethyst eyes.
Together with their father in a swimming pool.
Dressed in formal suits at a dinner table.
And there, Kylix. Mirel’s breath caught.
He reached toward his bonded’s face. He traced the jawline, the mouth, the eyes. Amano.
He was still to find out what drove Kylix. Like here, in this picture. He smiled. What had made him smile? What made him happy? Mirel only knew Kylix to be loyal, fierce. But what truly touched his heart?
Light ran over the glass frames, catching his reflection between theirs.
One photograph showed a family at a long table. Another caught laughter mid-motion. The smiles looked perfect, but the surface felt cold.
When he moved closer, frost began to form along the bottom edge of a frame. He wiped it away, but the chill stayed.
Each picture felt too alive, as if the people inside still watched him.
He traced Kylix’s face again, the jaw and eyes almost matching his own reflection. The thought unsettled him.
A pulse built behind his eyes. The air thickened with perfume and dust. For a second he thought the glass moved, someone leaning forward, a shape about to step out, but when he blinked, nothing was there.
Only his breath fogged the surface.
“There he is.”
Mirel flinched at the familiar voice. The air changed, heavy and still. Ice left his hand in a violent shock, and he gasped, overwhelmed by his own power.
Imperial Milanov smiled. “No need to be scared, frostling. Come. She’s waiting for you.”
Mirel followed.
Inside the room stood a large bed.
Norma Zephyranth lay in it, wrapped in white sheets and pillows. Her hair was a tumble of gold, eyes fluttering under a white gown edged in silver.
Mirel moved closer. He couldn’t look away. This was the royal consort, Imperial Milanov’s wife, Moargan and Helianth’s mother, Kylix’s aunt. A legend, a myth. Once loved by Helions, later vanished.
Yet here she was.
In her full melancholy.
The air tightened. Mirel’s eyes clouded white, blurring his sight. Through the ice, his hand shaped uncontrolled patterns along the wall behind her.
He saw how she had managed to use her own Dariux enhancements, the ones rejected by her body but accepted by her mind, to reach Cyprian and beg for Helianth’s safe return.
“She was the love of my life.”
Mirel turned and saw Milanov sitting by the window. He winced, unsure if he was welcome.
“We were so happy. She was my queen.” Milanov stood and walked toward the bed, hands clasped behind his back. He looked regal in his white cape, fur-trimmed, blond hair swept aside. His bright violet eyes carried a sadness that filled the room.
“My parents gifted her the Dariux injections. We were excited, dreamt of it. What gifts would she gain?” He took his wife’s hand and kissed it.
“My Norma gave me two beautiful sons. But soon after she was injected, her brain failed. We rushed her here. I thought I’d lose her forever.
Then the doctors said she was still alive. ”
Mirel watched as Milanov sat beside his wife, stroking her hair.