Slowly, Vale and Nym walked hand in hand toward the center of the gala hall.

  The music swelled around them, strings and percussion weaving together in a rhythm that seemed to pulse through the polished marble floor itself. Couples moved in graceful circles, dresses flaring and boots gliding in practiced steps. The air was warm with motion, laughter, and the subtle scent of perfume and wine.

  They stopped just before entering the dancing circle.

  Vale fell silent.

  Nym turned her head slightly, studying him with a curious expression as the moment stretched longer than intended. The silence thickened, and Vale felt it pressing against his chest. He swallowed, then forced a smile and finally spoke, his voice betraying him with a faint tremor.

  “Actually…” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I don’t know how to dance.”

  For a split second, he felt oddly exposed, as if he’d admitted something far more personal than ignorance of steps. Like he’d disappointed her.

  Then Nym laughed.

  Not a mocking laugh, sharp, loud, and genuine.

  Before Vale could react, she tightened her grip on his hand and dragged him forward.

  “Too bad,” she said, already pulling him into the circle.

  “Hey- wait!” Vale protested, stumbling slightly as she hauled him along. He nearly tripped twice before they reached a spot where Nym finally stopped and turned to face him.

  She looked him over from head to toe, then stepped closer.

  With firm but practiced movements, she placed a hand against his back, straightening his posture.

  “Stand up,” she instructed quietly.

  Vale obeyed instinctively.

  She took his hand, lifting it into position, her lips curling into a confident grin.

  “I’ll lead.”

  The music carried them forward.

  At first, Vale moved stiffly, unsure of where to place his feet, but then instinct took over. He wasn’t a dancer, but he was a fighter, trained by Callum himself. Balance, timing, and footwork were second nature to him.

  Following Nym’s lead became easier than he’d expected.

  Step. Turn and shift.

  After a few moments, Nym glanced up at him, clearly amused.

  “You’re doing very well for someone who claims he can’t dance.”

  Vale laughed awkwardly, closing his eyes for a brief moment as if centering himself.

  “I try my best,” he replied.

  Suddenly, Nym picked up the pace.

  She moved faster, sharper, then, just as abruptly, stopped.

  She stepped closer, her movements tightening, eyes narrowing as she looked at him with a mischievous, almost predatory grin. The implication was clear.

  ''Your turn.''

  Vale scoffed softly, then shifted his stance.

  If this was a challenge, he wasn’t about to back down.

  He mirrored what she had done earlier, subtle at first, then more confident. He guided her movements, leading her through the rhythm, adapting on instinct alone. Stopping in the middle of the hall would have been far more awkward than committing fully.

  Nym followed effortlessly.

  “Well done,” she said, clearly entertained. “You’re a quick learner.”

  Vale smiled back at her.

  “I had a good teacher.”

  She rolled her eyes, smirking, and smoothly reclaimed the lead.

  They danced for several more minutes, the music carrying them until the final notes softened and the circle naturally dissolved. Together, they stepped out of the flow and returned to the edge of the hall.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Vale stretched his shoulders slightly, exhaling.

  Nym placed a hand on her hip, studying him with narrowed eyes.

  Vale noticed immediately.

  “Something wrong?” he asked.

  She didn’t answer, just pointed behind him.

  Vale turned.

  Korin stood there, towering as always, a broad smile spreading across his face.

  “Korin!” Vale exclaimed. “Finally, I thought I lost you two forever in this crowd.”

  Korin chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his head.

  “Yeah… it’s definitely busy.”

  He glanced around, then looked back down at Vale.

  “Have you seen Tharion yet?”

  Vale opened his mouth, then paused.

  Tharion wanted his rest. Vale remembered the hollow look in his eyes.

  “No,” Vale said finally, shaking his head. “I haven’t. I was hoping you might’ve seen him.”

  Korin sighed, disappointment evident in his tone.

  “Figures. Guess he’ll only show up for his big moment.”

  There was something quietly sad in his voice.

  Vale stayed with Korin and Nym for a while longer, engaging in small talk, exchanging familiar smiles. Talking with people he actually knew, people who didn’t expect something from him, felt grounding.

  Eventually, he waved them off and moved on.

  Not far away, he spotted Monk Samuel.

  Vale approached and bowed respectfully.

  “Good day to you, Monk Samuel.”

  Samuel smiled warmly.

  “Please, child, rise. I am only your elder, not someone you must bow before.”

  Vale straightened, then hesitated before speaking again.

  “I apologize, but… what exactly did Eskar go through during his time with you?”

  The monk fell silent.

  He turned his gaze across the hall, where Eskar stood speaking with a blonde-haired girl, Nova, if Vale remembered correctly. She had asked about Eskar before.

  After a long moment, Samuel spoke.

  “What I taught him,” he said gently, “was simply this, to see himself not as a tool, but as a person.”

  Vale’s eyes widened slightly.

  “I… don’t think I understand,” Vale admitted quietly.

  Samuel smiled and looked back at Eskar.

  “You don’t have to,” he said. “As long as he does.”

  With that, the monk closed his eyes briefly, then waved Vale off with a calm, dismissive gesture.

  Vale returned the gesture politely, but his thoughts lingered.

  'Just what did Eskar go through…?'

  After some time, even those lingering thoughts faded from Vale’s mind.

  Instead, his attention drifted, quietly, almost unwillingly, back to Eskar.

  Vale stood on the far side of the hall, half-shrouded by moving figures and drifting fabric, silently observing him as he spoke with Nova. The two of them stood close, close enough that their voices were likely lost to the music and the surrounding chatter.

  Nothing seemed wrong.

  And that, somehow, unsettled Vale more than anything else.

  Eskar was smiling.

  Not the careful, measured smile of a liar. Not the hollow expression of someone playing a role. It was genuine, easy, even. He laughed softly at something Nova said, shoulders relaxed, posture unguarded.

  Vale narrowed his eyes slightly.

  'He’s changed,' he thought.

  Eskar had always been good at acting. Too good. He knew how to wear masks, how to convince others, and, in the process, convince himself. But this felt different. This didn’t look like a performance.

  Or perhaps, Vale considered grimly, it was the most convincing act yet.

  Vale exhaled slowly and turned away.

  'Whatever it is,' he told himself, 'it’s his life now.'

  He began to walk again, weaving through the gala floor, but after only a few steps an unease settled deep in his chest. A quiet pressure, subtle but persistent, tugged at him, an instinct he had learned not to ignore.

  'Go to him.'

  The thought wasn’t logical. It didn’t belong to reason. It felt closer to reflex.

  Before he could act on it, the atmosphere shifted.

  The hall grew quieter, not suddenly, but unnaturally. Conversations faltered. Laughter thinned. Even the music seemed hesitant, as if the instruments themselves sensed something approaching.

  Then Chrome’s voice cut into Vale’s mind.

  “Vale,” Chrome said, his metallic tone strained, uneasy in a way Vale had never heard before. “Someone has arrived. Probability of conflict is high. Prepare yourself.”

  Vale opened his mouth to respond,

  BOOM.

  The sound thundered through the hall as the massive entrance doors were blown open, crashing against the walls with violent force. The shockwave rippled through the crowd, wine sloshing in glasses, people stumbling as gasps erupted all at once.

  Vale tried to see who had entered, but bodies blocked his view. The crowd recoiled instinctively, parting unevenly, fear spreading faster than words ever could.

  Then he noticed the faces.

  Callum had gone completely still, his jaw tight, icy eyes sharp and focused. Evelyn’s expression hardened, her posture shifting subtly, from host to commander.

  Whoever had arrived was not welcome.

  The music stopped entirely.

  Silence fell.

  Then a voice echoed through the hall, smooth, amused, and laced with mockery.

  “Well, well,” the voice drawled.

  “It seems you all forgot to send me an invitation to this prestigious event.”

  A pause. Just long enough to let the tension coil tighter.

  “So,” the voice continued, “I invited myself. I hope my arrival won’t cause… any trouble.”

  Vale’s breath caught.

  He had heard that voice countless times, in recordings, reports, whispered warnings.

  Yet now, standing here, it felt strangely unreal. Familiar, but distant. As though his mind refused to accept what his instincts already knew.

  The source of the voice stepped forward.

  People moved aside without being asked, fear carving a path through the hall. Vale caught sight of brown hair emerging from the sea of unease, neatly styled, impeccably groomed.

  The figure advanced calmly… then abruptly changed direction.

  Straight toward Eskar.

  Vale’s heart dropped.

  Now he could see him clearly.

  The man’s face came fully into view, illuminated by the hall’s brilliant lights, and Vale’s eyes widened, a surge of horror and fury flooding through him all at once.

  Tericon.

  Leader of the Tyranical Dynasty.

  The monster behind countless ruined lives.

  The father of Eskar.

  Tericon smiled.

  And the gala, in that moment, ceased to be a celebration at all.