Newfear

Outside – The Royal Palace Courtyards

The guards were asked, the corridors were searched, and the servants were interrogated, but there was no clear answer. No one had seen them.

The former king had disappeared?! The Duke Lucas had disappeared?! How could this be?!

There was something suspicious... something dark happening behind the scenes.

The Royal Council – The King's Private Meeting Hall.

Without waiting, Darian forcefully pushed open the doors and barged in, finding Blatir Vanheim calmly seated at the head of the round table, surrounded by several ministers and nobles. Everyone was discussing something seriously, but with Darian's sudden entrance, silence fell immediately.

Blatir raised an eyebrow slightly, then waved his hand lightly, signaling for the attendees to leave. The nobles exchanged cautious glances before bowing quietly and leaving one by one, until only one person remained in the room with the new king.

Sir Variss Sathray, the king's personal guard.

Darian stood facing Blatir, his body tense like a drawn sword, his eyes narrowing with fury as he glared at the man who had taken the throne unjustly.

The sound of Darian's heavy breathing echoed in the room before it was cut off by a faint, but sharp voice.

Darian, cold and charged: "Blatir… what have you done…?"

Blatir did not answer immediately. He didn't even glance over, continuing to gaze out the window overlooking the town, where the lights of the celebrations gradually faded into the evening.

Darian, with growing tension: "Where is the king…?"

Blatir, without turning his gaze, replied in a low voice, but laced with sarcasm.

Blatir: "You're looking at him now."

In an instant, Darian's anger flared, unable to contain the boiling rage in his chest. He shouted, his voice carrying the weight of anger and betrayal.

Darian: "You know what I mean, you bastard!! Where is King Lucas Nightover!!?"

Only then did Blatir slowly turn, his face bearing a nonchalant, faint smile as he motioned with his hand to Variss to calm down when he noticed that Darian had grasped the hilt of his sword.

Blatir, with deadly calm: "I don't know... maybe he couldn't bear to see me crowned today, so he didn't come…"

Darian clenched his fist tightly, his voice trembling with rage as he took a step forward.

Darian: "He was supposed to be crowned today, but how dare you crown yourself in his absence!? And speaking of that... former King Ervin isn't here either. I asked if he had left Dreamcrown, but no one has seen him."

Then, in a low growl like a beast's roar, he asked.

Darian: "Just tell me... What have you done, Blatir?"

The new king didn't respond, but smiled faintly before turning his back again to look out the palace window, where the night sky was covered with dark clouds, as if mirroring a coming storm...

At that moment, Sir Darian Castro collected himself, taking a deep breath to try to control his raging fury. Then he turned his gaze away from Blatir and toward the man standing beside him, Sir Variss Sathray, the loyal royal guard.

Variss stood rigid in place, his expression betraying no emotions, but his eyes held a hint of concern and anticipation.

Darian, in a quiet yet steady voice: "Sir Variss… I know you are an honorable man. So listen carefully to what I'm about to say."

Variss's expression shifted slightly, as if he could already feel the weight of Darian's words before they were even spoken.

Darian, with a sharp but controlled tone: "The man who was supposed to be crowned today… was Duke Lucas Nightover."

Sir Variss hesitated for a moment, his unease apparent in the slight shift of his stance and the tense glance he threw at Blatir. Yet, he remained silent, his eyes filled with uncertainty.

Darian, continuing in a firmer voice: "And yet, there has been no word of former King Irvin… or Lucas until now."

He took a step forward, his gaze piercing into Faris's mind, trying to shake his certainty.

Darian: "And while we do not know where they are… the bastard you now protect has been crowned king… out of nowhere!!"

The silence in the room was suffocating, as if even the air itself had frozen. Blatir did not move, standing by the window, seemingly indifferent to the rising tension in the room... yet he was listening closely.

As for Variss, it was clear he was trying to process what had just been said. His gaze shifted slowly between Darian and Blatir, caught between doubt and duty, between what he knew… and what he was now beginning to question.

But before he could respond…

Blatir, with chilling calmness: "It seems you still put too much faith in people's honor, Darian."

He turned slowly, the faint smile never leaving his lips, but his eyes were darker than Dreamcrown's stormy skies outside.

Blatir: "Variss will not be swayed by your lies. Nor will he be moved by your cheap insinuations. Isn't that right, Sir?

Variss glanced at Blatir for a moment… then at Darian, the confusion still lingering in his eyes. Yet, he did not answer.

Darian's gaze narrowed further. He realized this confrontation was far from over. In fact… it might not have even begun.

He did not move. He did not shout. He did not draw his sword as any man would when his king was stolen before his eyes. Instead, he stood there, staring at Blatir with eyes that were not just filled with anger… but with something else, something deeper... something like the abyss that stares back at you if you look into it for too long.

Then, in a voice as quiet as a blade brushing against a throat, he spoke.

Darian: "Do you know the dumbest mistake a man can make when he takes a throne that was never his?

He did not wait for an answer. He did not need one. It was already being etched into the air around them, into the faces of those who were beginning to grasp the gravity of what was unfolding.

Darian: "Forgetting that silence is not surrender… it is the beginning of the hunt."

He took a step forward, continuing his words as if weaving a delicate thread of fear between himself and Blatir.

Darian: "There is a creature in the high mountains, where the snow never ceases and the wind howls like the laments of lost souls.

The snow leopard.

It fears nothing, dreads no creature, no matter how formidable. A silent predator, seen only in fleeting glimpses, moving through the mountains as if it were part of the snow itself. It does not waste its strength on reckless chases like other starving beasts, nor does it strike blindly in a moment of fury like lesser creatures. Instead, it watches… waits… lets its prey believe it is safe, lets it grow complacent, almost convinced that danger has passed.

Then, in the moment when the prey has shed all doubt, when it no longer senses its presence… when it begins to relax, in that fleeting instant where warmth settles over the ice… when it closes its eyes for but a moment of respite.

Something rises from the depths of darkness, as if the cold itself has claimed its soul, and it never realized that death had been watching all along. Suddenly, it finds itself trapped in terror's grip, paralyzed, as the world around it begins to shrink, slowly… mercilessly… with every beat of its heart."

Darian stopped, his eyes locked onto Blatir as if his gaze alone could carve through the space between them. Then, he whispered, his voice like a thread of blood seeping into the white snow, weighing down the air around him.

Darian: "…It emerges from nothingness, with fangs that know no mercy, ending everything in a single strike...."

Silence returned, but it was no ordinary silence. It was the silence of a man who had spoken the truth… and another who had only just begun to realize it.

Darian turned away, his steps steady, his back never once bent. But before he left entirely, he halted at the doorway and spoke, his voice devoid of anger... carrying instead something far more dangerous: the certainty of the inevitable.

Darian: "Enjoy your life, Blatir... as long as the ice has yet to break."

And then, he was gone, leaving behind something that even Blatir, no matter how much he feigned confidence, could not ignore. He remained standing, his expression unchanged…

but for a single moment, just one fleeting moment, he felt something cold creep beneath his skin.

The hours passed, and the night continued. People returned to their homes, yet their hearts remained burdened with lingering doubt. New chapters were unfolding in the kingdom of Vanheim, but the ending was as uncertain as the beginning.

Meanwhile, within the royal palace, Raymond paced in place, countless questions racing through his mind. Then, the door before him opened, and from it emerged Talia, followed closely by Dion.

Raymond approached them, tension evident in his posture. But they both shook their heads.

Talia: "He wouldn't even speak to us."

Dion: "He kept rambling, swearing vengeance on anyone who opposed his rule."

Frustration and concern flickered in Raymond's expression. He nodded to them, preparing to leave, but Talia suddenly grabbed his arm.

Talia: "He… wants to speak with you."

Raymond blinked, taken aback, and a brief silence followed. His gaze shifted to the door before him. After a moment's hesitation, he stepped forward, opened it, and entered.

Inside, King Blatir Vanheim stood by the fireplace, adding more logs to the flames.

Blatir: "Come closer, son."

The words alone were enough to send a ripple of unease through Raymond. For a brief moment, the image of his unstable, frenzied father flashed through his mind... only to fade, replaced by the imposing figure before him. He stepped forward, his movements quiet, and came to a halt behind him. A deep sigh escaped Blatir before he spoke, his voice low.

Blatir: "I have decided… You will be my heir."

Raymond's eyes widened in utter shock. He had not expected to hear these words, not after all these years... not since he had left Varlom.

Blatir, his voice unwavering: "And you may marry that commoner, if you so wish.

So… what is your answer? Can you bear this burden?"

A heavy silence filled the room. There was no time for hesitation. Raymond answered swiftly, as if attempting to shatter the tension that was beginning to suffocate him.

Raymond: "…As you wish. I will bear it."

At that moment, Blatier exhaled... a sigh that almost sounded like release. Then, he nodded.

Blatir: "Good… Well done. We shall speak again later."

Raymond turned and walked out. But as he stepped through the hallway, taking only a few strides forward, he felt a sudden grip on his arm, pulling him ahead.

He turned his head... Aqua. The seething anger on his face was unmistakable. Without another word, Aqua dragged him into one of the chambers. Once inside, he spun around to face Raymond.

Aqua: "At the exact moment of your father's coronation, you asked me about my father... about what he told me the day before.

Why did you ask me that?!"

Raymond: "What's this all about? Did something happen?"

Aqua: "Answer the damn question!!"

Raymond froze for a brief second... this was the first time he had seen Aqua this serious. But he showed no visible reaction.

Raymond, exhaling slowly: "I saw Sir Variss kneel before your father during the burial rites Yesterday. So…

Aqua: "So what?! What?! For hell's sake, did you bring this up just because you saw some damned knight kneel before him?! Did you have some absurd idea, or...

Raymond, cutting in: "What happened?!"

Aqua took a deep breath before answering.

Aqua: "My father hasn't returned home since yesterday... Sir Darian asked me about him, and when I inquired about the reason, he stammered and walked away. I didn't let him go... I followed him and pressed him until he finally admitted… and told me that my father is missing… My father!! He has been missing since the moment your damned father was crowned!!!

Upon hearing this, Raymond's eyes narrowed as he sank into deep thought. Meanwhile, Aqua stepped closer, his anger rising.

Aqua, pointing a finger as a warning: "If… If my father doesn't return by tomorrow… and your father had a hand in this… I swear, I will shove my sword right up his neck...

Aqua abruptly turned, throwing the door open before slamming it shut behind him.

Raymond remained there for a moment, then left as well.

However, there was someone else... someone who had been listening. Sitting within the library, just beyond the hallway's end, was Marquess Leon Cypher, an old tome resting in his hands.

A slow, wide smile spread across his face.

Leon: "It seems… I've found a way to speed things up... How fortunate."