The imperial chamber remained silent.
It was not the peaceful silence of rest. It was the heavy silence that follows a storm, the kind that presses on the chest and makes even breathing feel loud.
Emperor Ragnar Nivaris stood beside the bed where Theon and Lyra slept. His crimson eyes stayed fixed on them, unmoving, as if he was afraid that looking away would break something fragile. The mana lamps flickered against the walls, painting long shadows across the marble floor. Every noble in the room held their breath, waiting for him to speak.
Seconds passed.
Then minutes.
The silence stretched so long that a few nobles began to glance at one another, unsure if they were even allowed to breathe normally.
At last, the emperor turned.
"Leave."
One word. But it carried the full weight of a decree, heavy enough to make the air itself feel colder. The nobles bowed at once. Some of them could not fully hide the curiosity burning behind their eyes, but none of them dared to speak it aloud. They filed out one by one, their robes whispering softly against the floor, until the doors closed behind the last of them.
Only the imperial children remained, along with Duke Aldric Ravenhart and Ifrith.
Ragnar’s gaze finally settled on Ifrith.
"Will you be able to protect them from harm?"
The towering demon did not hesitate for even a moment.
"As long as I live, no harm shall befall my masters."
His voice was steady, low, and certain, the kind of voice that did not know how to lie.
A quiet breath escaped the emperor’s lips. It was almost a sigh of relief, though he tried to hide it.
Behind him, the First Princess lowered her head. Her hands clenched tightly at her sides, her nails pressing into her palms hard enough to leave marks.
Why him, she thought.
Why is it always him?
Why does Father look at Theon like that, and never at me?
Jealousy coiled inside her chest like something alive, something that fed on silence and grew stronger the longer it was left unspoken.
Ragnar spoke again. His tone left no room for argument.
"Aldric. Take the children outside."
The princes and princesses stiffened at once.
"Father, we..." one of them started.
"I wish to remain," another said quickly, stepping forward before he could be dismissed.
They all wanted to stay. They wanted to hear what would be said next, to understand why the emperor was treating this moment with such heaviness, such gravity, as if the fate of the empire itself was resting on these two sleeping children.
Ragnar turned his head slowly.
He gave them one glance. Nothing more.
But that single glance was enough. The pressure in the room grew so thick it felt suffocating, like standing too close to a fire that had no flame you could see. The imperial siblings fell silent immediately, their half formed protests dying in their throats. One by one, they bowed and stepped back, retreating through the doors without another word.
Duke Aldric followed them out, then closed the heavy door behind him. He remained standing beside it afterward, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his posture straight and unmoving, like a wall that nothing could pass through.
No one would enter that room.
No one would hear what was said inside it.
Ragnar raised a hand, and a translucent ripple spread outward through the chamber. A soundproofing barrier settled into place, and the noise of the world beyond simply vanished, swallowed whole.
For a long moment, the emperor only looked at Ifrith.
Then, unexpectedly, he smiled.
The tension that had been sitting in his shoulders for hours finally eased. He walked to the chair beside Theon’s bed and lowered himself into it, his crimson eyes drifting from Theon’s sleeping face to Lyra’s.
"You know what will happen after this, don’t you?" he asked quietly.
Ifrith’s eyes narrowed just slightly.
"Of course I do."
"And are you prepared for it?"
The demon bowed his head, and when he spoke again, his voice carried none of the arrogance one might expect from a being of his power.
"I have already sworn to protect my masters. I will protect them with my life, if that is what it takes."
Ragnar nodded once, slow and deliberate.
"Indeed. You can protect them from anything that tries to strike them with a blade or with fire."
His voice grew quieter, almost gentle.
"But can you protect them from the throne itself?"
For the first time since the conversation, something shifted in Ifrit’s expression. It was small, barely visible, but it was there.
He studied the emperor carefully, as if seeing him properly for the first time.
"Isn’t that exactly why you stayed here?" Ifrit asked.
A brief silence followed. Then Ragnar chuckled softly, the sound almost warm.
"I’m glad you understand."
Ifrit moved closer and sat down across from him. The flames flickering along his shoulders dimmed slightly, settling into something calmer, something closer to peace.
The emperor leaned back in his chair and looked again at the sleeping boy.
"There is something you should know," he said.
His voice had changed. It now carried the weight of old memories, the kind a person keeps locked away for years because they are too painful, or too strange, to speak aloud.
"I have known about Theon’s abnormality since he was a child."
Ifrith said nothing. He only listened.
"When he was little than this, he lost control of his mana during a tantrum."
Ragnar’s eyes darkened as the memory rose to the surface.
"He destroyed half of the palace garden that day. He nearly brought down an entire wing of the palace with him."
Even now, years later, the memory clearly unsettled him. His hands, folded in his lap, tightened slightly.
"At the time, I told myself it was simply a rare mutation. An unusually powerful mana core, nothing more."
He paused, his gaze distant.
"But after what happened in Frostfang Forest, I understood that something had changed in him. Something deeper than a mutation."
His eyes sharpened as he looked back at Ifrit.
"Tell me. Have you noticed anything strange about him?"
Ifrith was quiet for a long moment, considering his answer carefully.
Then he spoke honestly.
"Yes."
His gaze moved to Theon, and something like respect softened his sharp features.
"He is far stronger than he has any right to be."
"And?"
"He never gives up. Even when he should. Even when giving up would be easier."
A faint smile touched Ifrith’s lips, small but genuine.
"That is why I chose him as my master. Not because of his strength alone, but because of that."
Ragnar stared at the demon for several long seconds, studying him the way he might study a soldier he was deciding whether to trust with his life.
Then, unexpectedly, he smiled too.
"Then I will leave the protection of both of them in your hands."
Ifrit inclined his head low, a gesture of true respect rather than mere formality.
"And I will leave their protection from politics in yours, Your Majesty."
The emperor rose slowly from his chair. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was not uncomfortable now. It felt more like an understanding passing quietly between two people who had just agreed to carry a burden together.
Ragnar began walking toward the door. Just before he reached it, he stopped.
Without turning around, he said,
"Watch their siblings carefully."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop, even though nothing in the room had physically changed.
"One of them will make a move sooner or later. It is only a matter of when."
Ifrith stood and bowed deeply, his flames flaring for just a moment before settling again.
"I expected nothing less from a family like this."
His eyes burned like molten fire, sharp and alert.
"And I am already prepared for them, whoever they turn out to be."
Ragnar dispelled the soundproof barrier with a small wave of his hand. The sounds of the palace returned at once, faint and distant beyond the door. He opened it and stepped out into the corridor, where Duke Aldric still stood waiting exactly as he had left him.
The knight did not ask what had been discussed inside. He simply fell into step beside the emperor.
The emperor did not offer an explanation either.
The two men walked away together in silence, their footsteps echoed down the long corridor and the sound faded completely.
Back inside the chamber, the quiet settled once more, softer this time, like the room itself was finally allowed to rest.
Ifrit turned toward the sleeping pairs.
For a long moment, he said nothing at all. He simply looked at them, the way someone looks at something they are afraid to lose.
Then he stepped closer.
His gaze lingered first on Theon, taking in the boy’s calm, sleeping face. Slowly, it shifted to Lyra.
The flames around him softened. They no longer looked fierce or dangerous. They looked almost gentle, like candlelight instead of fire.
"My new life," he whispered.
He lowered his head slightly, as if bowing to no one but himself.
"My new masters."
His voice dropped to something barely above a whisper, something that felt too private for anyone else to hear, even though the room was empty.
"I will not fail again."
His eyes rested on Lyra, and something ancient stirred behind them. It was an old kind of sorrow, quiet and deep, the kind that comes from carrying regret for far longer than any person should have to.
"My empress," he said softly.
The words trembled, but they were steady with quiet determination underneath.
"This time, I will protect you. No matter what it costs me."
The chamber fell silent once more, but it was a different silence now, one that held a promise inside it.
But inside that quiet chamber, the first seeds of a political storm had already begun to grow, hidden beneath the joy, waiting patiently for the moment they would finally break the surface.