CHAPTER 14
The gathering glittered with grandeur, crystal chandeliers gleamed like fallen stars, casting a golden glow on polished floors. Laughter flowed like wine, nobles in resplendent robes danced around politics masked with pleasantries. The air buzzed with low murmurs, veiled intentions, and hungry eyes.
At a quiet corner of the hall, away from the thrones and the golden spotlight, there they are, Sorayael and Zarethian, sitting.
She had picked the spot on purpose, shadowed enough to keep her face unreadable, close enough to hear everything.
Zarethian leaned against the wall beside her, sipping from a glass, looking far too bored for someone declared heir just hours earlier.
'Dungeons my ass, he just entered only one'
Sorayael laughed quietly. "You're the future heir to the throne and yet you want to be back where monsters crawl?"
She rolled her eyes and turned her gaze back toward the hall. "And here I thought you were trained for this."
He tilted his head, eyeing her. "And what about you, my lady cousin? You've kept your mouth shut all evening."
Before she could answer, her gaze flickered drawn to a figure near the back of the hall. Hooded and standing too still. The person was too far from the flow of dancers or servants and watching.
Something curled in her chest.
Zarethian noticed the change in her expression. "What is it?"
But she was already gone. Her footsteps were soft, eyes locked on the corner where shadows thickened.
The hall continued its masquerade of elegance while Sorayael followed the person she saw from far away.
The hall behind her hummed with music, laughter, and clinking glasses, but out here the world had dulled into silence. Sorayael narrowed her eyes, scanning the corner once more.
Nothing.
Just the shifting of shadows and the faint breeze that slipped through the open stone archway.
'Did I imagine it?'
She took a cautious step forward.
Then a swift movement. Cold steel pressed against her neck.
A beat of silence. Then the man behind her spoke, the voice darker now.
Sorayael's fingers twitched subtly. 'Amateur move,' she thought.
Before he could say more, she twisted her weight, dipped low, and slipped from his hold in a blink; an elegant, practiced movement. Her mana flared just faintly in her fingertips, casting a glimmer of defensive magic around her. She stepped back, a few feet between them now, with her chin held high.
The man stared.
She raised a brow.
The man huffed, almost a laugh, almost not.
Sorayael narrowed her eyes, cautiously studying him.
'Is he crazy?'
He stood there with the knife still in his hand, as if he hadn't just threatened someone at a royal banquet.
Their standoff lingered, quiet and tense.
Then-
Before either could say more, faint footsteps echoed from the hall.
Zarethian's voice called from a distance, "Sora? Where did you go-"
The stranger's eyes flicked toward the sound. Then, without another word, he melted into the shadows behind a curtain-draped archway.
He left behind a crescent moon-shaped earring made of obsidian-black metal, with a small blue gem embedded at the tip like a teardrop of the ocean itself.
The crescent has fine silver etchings with wave-like patterns or swirling winds, faint enough to be missed at first glance.
It dangles lightly, catching even the faintest of light with an ethereal shimmer.
The blue gem seems to pulse gently, like it's reacting to the presence of mana.
It's clearly not from the nobility's fashion, and looks custom-forged, perhaps a relic, or something passed down personally.
With a composed breath, she turned and knelt to pick up something glinting faintly on the ground, the earring. She wrapped it in the handkerchief she always carried, tucking it safely away in the folds of her sleeve.
Zarethian found her near one of the quiet garden walls, the moonlight casting shadows that danced with the breeze.
Sorayael blinked, momentarily startled.
Zarethian didn't look convinced, but he let it slide. "Next time, at least take me with you. What if something happened?"
They walked back together in silence at first, then exchanged light teasing as they reentered the glowing halls of the Crimson Gathering.
The music had softened, and nobles were still deep in conversation.
But Sorayael and Zarethian quietly slipped back into the background, unnoticed, just how she liked it.
Eventually, the gathering wound down and servants led them to their assigned rooms in one of the Imperial wings. Girls on one side, boys on the other. Jezha was already waiting inside when Sorayael entered, giving her a small nod.
Later that night, when everything settled into quiet and the glowlamps dimmed, Sorayael sat by the edge of her bed. She slowly unwrapped the handkerchief and revealed the earring.
Her mind wandered to him. His oceanic eyes, streaks of black and white in his blue hair, and the way he vanished like a mist. Who are you?
She closed her fingers around the earring, as if keeping the question safe.
Curiosity bloomed quietly in her chest, like an ember waiting for the wind.