The moment Zeradros’s roar faded, something inside Eyan shattered.

  Time, which had been frozen like a cruel mercy, lurched back into motion. The world breathed again—too fast, too loud.

  Eyan screamed.

  It tore out of his chest like an animal’s cry.

  The curse seized him violently. His chest burned as if molten iron had been poured into his veins. His heart pounded out of rhythm, every beat screaming agony. His eyes darkened, the last trace of light swallowed whole—pitch black, empty of reason.

  He staggered, gasping.

  His fingers closed around the dagger lying on the ground.

  Without a word, without a thought, he turned toward the palace.

  And began to walk.

  Eva stared at him, dread clawing up her spine.

  “Eyan…?” Her voice trembled. “Where are you going?”

  He did not answer.

  He did not look back.

  --------------------------------------------------------

  The chamber doors burst open.

  King Thalor Therald sat at his chair. He turned his head at the noise And smiled.

  A tired, gentle smile. “Eyan…”

  Eyan stepped inside and stopped before him. His grip tightened around the dagger, his whole body trembling as the curse screamed inside his skull.

  Without warning—

  He plunged the blade into his father’s chest.

  Once.

  Then again.

  The sound was wet. Final.

  Blood spilled from Thalor’s lips, staining his clothes. His body jerked, but he did not cry out. He only looked up at his son.

  Slowly—so slowly—Thalor raised his shaking hand and cupped Eyan’s face, smearing warm blood across his cheek.

  King Thalor Therald smiled weakly, blood trembling on his lips.

  “Don’t blame yourself, my son…” His voice was barely a breath. “This was never your fault.”

  His fingers loosened.

  Slowly, helplessly, his hand slipped from Eyan’s face and fell to his side.

  His chest rose once— then did not rise again.

  The room went unbearably still.

  In that same heartbeat, the darkness drained from Eyan’s eyes. The curse loosened its grip, and his vision cleared as awareness came crashing back.

  He looked down. At his father— sitting motionless in the chair.

  At the dagger in his own hand— coated in blood that was still warm.

  For a long moment, Eyan did not breathe.

  Then the dagger slipped from his fingers and struck the floor with a hollow sound.

  Eyan staggered forward and wrapped his arms around his father’s body, holding him as if he could still protect him.

  His face pressed against Thalor’s chest.

  Nothing.

  No heartbeat.

  No warmth.

  A broken sound tore from his throat. “Father…” His body shook as tears spilled freely. “I’m sorry…” he sobbed. “I’m so sorry…”

  He clung to him desperately, rocking back and forth like a child, his cries echoing through the empty chamber.

  But the man he held did not move. And never would again.

  “Eyan…”

  Eva’s voice broke as she cried out.

  He turned.

  Eva stood in the doorway, tears streaming down her face, her eyes fixed on the blood staining his clothes.

  “Eva…” His voice faltered when he said her name.

  She stepped toward him, shaking. “Why… why did you kill your father?”

  Her voice cracked. “What happened? What’s going on?”

  Eyan’s chest tightened violently. “Stop.” His voice rose, sharp with panic. “Don’t come any closer.”

  Eva froze.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Eyan turned back to his father’s body one last time. Gently—he closed Thalor’s eyes. Then he forced himself to stand.

  He walked to Eva, seized her wrist, and began pulling her with him.

  “Eyan—!”

  “Come.”

  “Where are you taking me?” she cried.

  “Please, tell me what’s happening!”

  He didn’t answer. He dragged her through the halls, his grip tight, almost painful—not because he wanted to hurt her, but because he was afraid to let go.

  They reached the palace’s front doors.

  Eyan stopped.

  He turned to her, his face pale, eyes frantic beneath the calm he was trying to fake. “You have to leave.”

  Eva stared at him. “Leave? Why?”

  “Don’t ask questions,” he said quickly, too quickly. “Just—just go. Leave the palace. Leave now.”

  “What about you?”

  His jaw tightened. “I have to stay.” He gestured vaguely behind her. “You see that dragon? I have to deal with him.”

  Eva shook her head. “Eyan, no—”

  “Once I do,” he interrupted, desperation bleeding into his voice, “I’ll come to you.”

  Eva looked at him, tears blurring her vision. “You… you’ll really come to me?”

  He nodded immediately, afraid that if he hesitated even for a second, she would see the truth in his eyes.

  “Yes.” His voice broke anyway.”

  Eva stepped closer, her hands tightening around his sleeves as if anchoring herself to him.

  “Promise me,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “No matter what happens… promise you’ll come back to me.”

  Eyan met her eyes and forced a faint smile. “I promise,” he said softly.

  His hands trembled. “So go,” he whispered. “Please… go.”

  Eva hesitated, tears falling freely. Finally, she nodded. “Okay…”

  She turned to leave.

  “Eva.”

  She stopped and turned back.

  Eyan pulled her into his arms, holding her too tightly. Eva hugged him back, burying her face in his chest.

  He inhaled her scent—desperate, memorizing it.

  Then he pulled away and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Go,” he said again, softer this time. Almost pleading.

  Eva turned and walked out of the palace.

  Eyan stood there, unmoving, watching her disappear from sight.

  His hands clenched at his sides.

  Eyan turned away from the palace doors and walked back inside.

  His steps were slow, uneven, as if every movement weighed more than the last. He reached up and unclasped his cloak. The fabric slipped from his shoulders and fell to the floor behind him, forgotten—just another thing he would never need again.

  His voice was low. Empty. “Hans… bring me a sword.”

  Hans froze.

  For a moment, he didn’t move. His hands trembled at his sides, his eyes wide with understanding and terror. Then, swallowing hard, he turned and walked away.

  --------------------------------------------------------

  Eva ran.

  Her lungs burned as she pushed herself through the palace gates, tears blinding her vision. Her chest felt tight, as if something invisible were squeezing her heart.

  Then—

  A voice echoed inside her mind.

  Leo. “.”

  She stumbled to a halt.

  Her breath hitched sharply.

  Her heart pounded violently.

  Eva gasped, clutching her chest. Slowly, trembling, she turned back toward the palace.

  Something was wrong.

  Something was terribly, horribly wrong.

  --------------------------------------------------------

  Hans returned, carrying the sword with both hands as if it weighed a thousand times more than it should. He stopped in front of Eyan and held it out, unable to meet his eyes.

  Eyan took the sword. The metal was cold against his palm.

  He looked down at it for a long moment, his reflection faintly visible along the blade—bloodstained, hollow-eyed, already half gone.

  Hans’s voice broke. “Your Majesty…” Tears streamed down his face. “Do you really have to this?”

  Eyan didn’t look up. “Yes.”

  His answer was quiet. Certain.

  “This is the only way to keep Eva… and the child… safe.”

  Hans covered his mouth, unable to stop his sobs.

  Eyan finally turned to him. “Hans,” he said softly. “Take care of Eva for me.”

  His voice wavered just slightly. “Can you do that?”

  Hans fell to his knees. “Yes,” he cried. “I swear I will. With my life.”

  Eyan nodded once. “Thank you.”

  Those were his last words as king.

  Eyan walked to the center of the great hall. He lowered himself to his knees.

  Eyan closed his eyes.

  His breathing was uneven, shallow, as he pressed the blade against his chest. The cold metal rested over his heart, steady and merciless.

  “Just… a little more,” he whispered, barely audible. “Just a little more, and it will be over.”

  His hands trembled.

  Then—

  Warm hands wrapped around the blade.

  “No…!”

  Eva’s voice broke apart as she cried out.

  Eyan’s eyes flew open.

  She was kneeling in front of him, her body trembling violently, both hands wrapped tightly around the sword. The blade bit into her palms, slicing her skin as she held it back with sheer desperation. Blood streamed down her fingers, splashing onto the marble floor in dark, trembling drops.

  “Eva—!”

  She shook her head wildly, tears blinding her. “What are you doing…?” she sobbed. “Don’t tell me you were— don’t tell me you were going to—”

  “Eva!” Eyan snapped, his voice cracking under panic and rage. “I told you to leave! What are you doing here?!......go”

  “No!” she cried.

  “I’m not going. I’m not leaving you alone—never!”

  He tried to pull the sword back. “Let go of it!”

  She tightened her grip instead, the pain ripping through her hands. “No… I won’t,” she whispered, crying harder.

  Eyan’s gaze dropped to her hands.

  Blood. So much blood.

  His chest clenched violently.

  The curse pressed against his mind, screaming, warning him. Every second mattered.

  He turned sharply. “Hans,” he said, his voice shaking despite his effort to sound calm. “Bring me a rope.”

  Eva stared at him in horror. “Eyan… no… please don’t—”

  Hans froze, tears streaming down his face, then ran.

  Eyan released the sword. It clattered loudly against the floor. Before Eva could react, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her to her feet.

  “Eyan—stop!” she cried, struggling against him. “What are you doing? Please—stop!”

  He dragged her across the hall despite her resistance. Her sobs echoed painfully against the stone walls.

  Hans returned, hands shaking, holding the rope. Eyan took it without a word. He pushed Eva gently—but firmly—against a pillar.

  “No—!” she screamed, thrashing violently. “Please! Don’t do this!”

  His hands shook uncontrollably as he wrapped the rope around her wrists, then her waist. The knots were tight, too tight. He couldn’t risk her breaking free.

  “Let me go!” Eva sobbed. “Eyan, please—please!”

  He looked at her. His throat burned.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered so softly she almost didn’t hear it. “I’m so sorry…”

  Then he turned away. He walked back to the center of the hall, each step heavier than the last, and picked up the sword.

  Eva screamed. “Eyan—please stop! Don’t do this!”

  He placed the blade against his heart again. His hands shook violently now.

  “Eyan!” she screamed, her voice breaking completely.

  “EYAN!”

  "Don’t leave me…!” Her cries echoed endlessly. “Please don’t go…!”

  The world felt unbearably quiet for a single heartbeat.

  —SHHK!—

  The sound was sharp. Final.

  Eva froze.

  The sword pierced through Eyan’s chest.

  His body staggered forward, then collapsed heavily onto the floor.

  “EYAN—!” Her scream tore through the palace like a wound.

  Eyan’s eyes fluttered weakly. Tears slipped from the corners as he turned his head toward her.

  And he smiled. A gentle, peaceful smile—one that didn’t belong to someone who was dying.

  Blood stained his lips as he coughed weakly.

  Eva sobbed uncontrollably, screaming his name, struggling against the ropes until her wrists bled.

  Eyan lifted his trembling hand, reaching toward her—toward the woman he loved more than his own life.

  His fingers hovered in the air, never quite reaching her.

  “I love you…” he whispered, his voice breaking apart. “Goodbye.”

  His hand fell lifelessly to the floor.

  His chest stilled.

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