“There’s a rock in the Shadow World called Noctenite. It forms in deep rifts where nothing lives. The core of it is hollow, and if you place something inside, it goes into stasis. No decay, no aging, no movement. Like freezing it outside of time.”
He watches my reaction before continuing.
“I can transfer shards that are big enough to preserve food, rare plants, or relics, things that need to stay untouched for a long time. Some healers use it to hold rare medicines. Archivists seal ancientscrolls in it. You could even protect a dying ember in there, and it’d never go out. People pay good money for it in this realm.” He exhales through his nose, quietly.
I blink, stunned by the casualness of his words as a thought creeps in, unwelcome. If a shard can hold something as fragile as a flower or as volatile as fire… what else could it hold?
Large enough, and someone could use Noctenite to preserve more than just relics. They could trap something. Or someone. Forever.
I shake off these thoughts, and return my gaze toward my beautiful room. “Thank you,” I whisper.
His brow lifts slightly, but he doesn’t say anything.
“I shouldn’t have accused you,” I add. “Asking if you stole from someone… that wasn’t fair.”
“You had a right to wonder,” he says softly. “Most people wouldn’t ask. They’d just assume.”
A beat passes. Then he turns, his gaze skimming over the rows of dresses like nothing heavy had just passed between us.
“I trust your friend will help you choose?” he says, more composed now. “You’ll look stunning in any of them. The king will be impressed.”
The king. Of course. That is who I will be spending this evening with. It’s like the invisible thread between us pulls tight, catching around my ribs, making it hard to breathe.
Suddenly, I forget about the consul, about Mael and the possible conspiracy, about all the reasons I agreed to that.
“Were you…” I hesitate, the words snagging like thorns in my throat. “Were you planning to take me to the ball yourself?”
Kaelzar stills. His shoulders square, his chin lifts. “My plan,” he says, voice low and rough, “was to make this day special for you. If spending it with him makes it such, then what I wanted doesn’t matter.”
There’s a pause, and in it, something too bitter to be selfless flickers behind his eyes.
His words wrap around my heart. He thought of every detail. Each rose, each candle, even the paint for my nails, and still, it’s Ryker who will take me.
Before I can respond, Eva suddenly launches herself at me, throwing her arms around my shoulders with an exaggerated squeal.
“Great surprise, Godbeast,” she teases, waving dramatically at the room. But her eyes flick to me, softer now. “He really went all out, huh?” She nudges me gently, then adds, “You okay?”
I nod, but it’s not convincing.
“Alright, time for the brooding boys to make themselves scarce,” Eva says with a playful flick of her fingers toward the door, shooting Kaelzar a look that’s half teasing, half appreciative.
Kaelzar nods and strides out without resistance. The door clicks softly shut behind him.
“Sheesh,” Eva mutters, planting her hands on her hips. “How long hasthatbeen going on?”
“Going on?” I echo, doing a terrible job of feigning ignorance. My cheeks give me away immediately.
Eva rolls her eyes. “Sure, play innocent.” But there’s no bite in it, just curiosity and concern tangled together.
I turn toward the racks of dresses, desperate to escape her knowing stare.
My eyes catch on one— red and black. It’s not just beautiful, it’s daring. The bodice plunges low, the swirling black patterns shimmer like smoldering embers. Its sleeves, and the skirt flows like molten lava, split high on both sides. A choker with matching details completes the look.
Somehow, I know Kaelzar chose this dress for me and placed it among the others with quiet precision, trusting that I would see it and feel exactly what he hoped I would.
Its intricate designs spiral across the fabric in patterns that mirror the shape of my whip, the weapon that has become something of a personal emblem.
And the colors, bright fiery red and black, are no coincidence. They are what I am now—blood and decay. He never treated that pairing as something shameful or tragic, only as something to claim.
