The moon rose red.
The palace braced for screams.
Guards doubled at every corridor. Physicians huddled in the west wing, nervously grinding herbs. High Priest Vexan stood outside Prince Ethan's chamber, clutching holy water he didn't believe in.
“Midnight will break him," he muttered. “It always does."
Inside the room, silence reigned.
Ethan sat on the edge of the bed, shirtless and still. Claw marks lined his ribs from his own earlier outburst. A fresh cut glistened along his jaw. His breaths were shallow but even.
Xiluo knelt across from him, palms resting gently on the floor, gaze fixed on his chest like a hunter measuring breath.
“She's not even touching him," Vexan whispered to an attendant through the door crack. “How can this possibly—"
“Get out."
Ethan's voice sliced throu
