Chapter 31: Mystery

Chapter 31: Chapter 31: Mystery

The palace corridors felt colder when Ifrith left the emperor’s study.

Not physically.

Something else.

Something heavy lingered in his mind.

A thousand years.

Fragments of a soul passed from emperor to emperor.

The prophecy of the Frost child.

And Theon standing unknowingly at the center of it all.

The Flame Lord demon walked in silence.

Servants bowed as he passed, never realizing that the small black cat moving through the corridor had once burned kingdoms and fought gods.

Ifrith felt uneasy.

Not because of an enemy.

Because of fate.

Meanwhile, Theon and Lazeria waited in a nearby sitting room.

Lazeria sat stiffly on the edge of a chair, hands folded in her lap.

Theon paced.

Again.

And again.

And again.

"You’re wearing a path into the carpet," Lazeria said quietly.

Theon stopped.

"Sorry."

"You’ve said that three times."

He sighed and dropped into the chair opposite her.

Silence stretched between them.

Lazeria studied him for a moment.

"You’re worried."

Theon let out a dry laugh.

"That obvious?"

"Yes."

He leaned back and stared at the ceiling.

"My father is hiding something."

Lazeria blinked.

"I thought all emperors hid things."

"Fair point."

A small smile appeared on her face, then faded.

"But this feels different."

Theon nodded slowly.

"He said I should live freely while I still can."

Lazeria repeated the words softly.

"While I still can..."

Even hearing them again sent a faint chill through him.

What did that mean?

What was coming?

And why did it sound as though Ragnar already knew?

Before Theon could sink deeper into thought, the door opened.

Ifrith entered.

Theon immediately sat up.

"Well?"

The Flame Lord demon jumped onto the table.

"We talked."

"That’s not an answer."

"It is technically an answer."

Theon gave him a flat look.

Ifrith sighed dramatically.

"Your father is even more complicated than I expected."

Lazeria looked between them.

"You’re avoiding the question."

Ifrith blinked.

Then he pointed a paw at her.

"I like her."

Lazeria looked genuinely startled.

"...Thank you?"

Theon rubbed his forehead.

"What did you talk about?"

Ifrith’s expression became unreadable.

"Ancient history."

Theon narrowed his eyes.

"That sounds suspicious."

"It is."

"You’re not going to tell me?"

"Not yet."

Theon groaned.

"Everyone in this palace keeps saying ’not yet.’"

Ifrith’s tail flicked.

"Get used to it, Master. You’ve apparently become the center of Prophecy ."

Theon froze.

Lazeria blinked.

"...What?"

Ifrith immediately realized he had said too much.

Theon stared at him.

"Prophecy ?"

The primordial demon coughed.

"Did I say Prophecy ? I meant... complicated destiny-related circumstances."

"That is somehow worse."

Lazeria slowly raised a hand.

"I’m very confused."

"So am I," Theon admitted.

Ifrith looked away.

"Let us pretend I said nothing."

"Absolutely not."

Before Theon could press further, a knock sounded.

A palace servant entered and bowed.

"His Majesty has prepared guest quarters for Lady Lazeria."

Lazeria blinked.

"Lady?"

The servant nodded respectfully.

"Those were the emperor’s instructions."

Theon noticed the surprise in her eyes.

For someone who had been treated as property, being addressed as Lady clearly felt unreal.

The servant continued.

"His Majesty also requests that Prince Theon remain within the palace grounds tonight."

Theon frowned.

"That sounds less like a request."

The servant wisely said nothing.

After he left, the room fell silent again.

Lazeria looked down at her hands.

"I should go."

Theon hesitated.

Part of him wanted to ask more questions.

Another part knew she was exhausted.

"You’ll be safe there," he said.

Lazeria looked up.

"Do you really believe that?"

Theon thought of Ragnar’s calm expression.

Of the emperor placing her under palace protection.

Of the pressure that had filled the study when he first saw her.

"Yes," Theon said at last. "For now, I do."

Lazeria studied him for a moment, then nodded.

As she reached the door, she paused.

"Theon."

It was the first time she had used his name without a title.

He looked up.

"Thank you for not treating me like a monster."

Theon held her gaze.

"You’re not a monster."

Lazeria’s eyes trembled slightly.

Then she smiled, a small, fragile smile, and left the room.

After the door closed, Theon turned slowly toward Ifrith.

"Now," he said, "explain the Prophecy part."

Ifrith immediately lay down and closed his eyes.

"I’m asleep."

"You’re a terrible actor."

"I’ve had a thousand years of practice."

Theon reached out and lifted him by the scruff of the neck.

Ifrith protested indignantly.

"Master! Dignity!"

"You lost dignity when you pretended to sleep with your eyes open."

Ifrith sighed.

"Fine. I cannot tell you everything."

"Can you tell me anything?"

The Flame Lord demon was silent for a moment.

Then he said quietly, "Your father has been waiting for someone."

Theon’s grip loosened slightly.

"Someone?"

"Yes."

"For how long?"

Ifrith looked at him with unreadable dark-crimson eyes.

"A very long time."

Theon slowly set him down.

A thousand years.

The thought flashed through his mind unbidden.

He frowned.

"Does this have something to do with me?"

Ifrith did not answer directly.

"Master, have you ever wondered why your powers keep breaking the rules?"

Theon opened his mouth, then closed it.

Ancient ice spells.

Perfect elemental compatibility.

The World Archive.

Removing a divine soul curse with raw mana.

The unconscious transformation in the cave.

One by one, the memories returned.

"That’s not an answer," he muttered.

"It’s the closest answer I can give."

Theon stared at him for a long moment.

Then he sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"I hate mysteries."

Ifrith chuckled softly.

"No, Master. You hate mysteries that involve you."

"...Fair."

Night fell over the palace.

Far away, in the northern district of the capital, a hooded man knelt before a tall figure standing beside a darkened window.

Archduke Raven Nivaris.

The archduke’s silver hair gleamed in the moonlight, and his expression was colder than winter.

"You lost her."

The hooded man trembled.

"She crossed into the palace district. We searched everywhere..."

Raven raised a hand.

Silence.

The pressure of his mana crushed the rest of the explanation.

After a moment, the archduke spoke again.

"The slave crest was activated."

The hooded man looked up in surprise.

"Yes, my lord. We felt the signal."

Raven’s eyes narrowed.

"And then it disappeared."

A chill spread through the room.

The hooded man swallowed hard.

"We... we don’t understand how."

Raven turned toward the window.

Below, the lights of the imperial palace shimmered in the darkness.

A slow, dangerous smile touched his lips.

"What could have happened to the crest?."

The hooded man hesitated.

"What are your orders?"

Raven’s gaze remained fixed on the distant palace.

"Do nothing."

The man blinked.

"My lord?"

"If the theory that Theon has taken her in, then the emperor will soon learn everything."

His smile widened slightly.

"Good."

The hooded man looked confused.

Raven’s eyes darkened.

"The game was never about hiding forever."

He rested a hand on the black stone lying on the table beside him.

The mysterious Heartstone pulsed faintly beneath his fingers.

"It was about forcing the next move."

The room grew colder.

And somewhere deep within the stone, a faint crimson light began to beep.