Chapter 23: The Crown's Labyrinth
Chapter 23: The Crown's Labyrinth
The northern wing of the palace had been sealed for days. Whispers said it was to host foreign envoys. Others claimed a secret council was being held—one that involved Sirius Farah Von Ross.
The truth? Neither.
Sirius simply did not want to be disturbed.
The Emperor had offered him an entire estate within the capital, a courtesy extended only to the Nine Pillars. Sirius refused. He stayed in a secluded corner of the palace, within a garden-facing hall where the moonlight poured in through high arching windows.
It was there that he meditated. Trained. Read.
The sword, ever near, lay at his side like a loyal hound. The magic within him pulsed quietly. He was already stronger than most of the old mages who had dedicated a lifetime to the arcane arts. A 6th Class Magician, and climbing faster than anyone dared predict.
By the end of this year, the court whispered, he may surpass even his own mother.
And he was only thirteen.
That evening, an imperial strategist visited with maps and scrolls detailing the unrest along the northern borders. Rebellions, magical beasts, unrest in allied kingdoms.
Sirius scanned them in silence. His gaze was sharp, precise.
The strategist explained the situation. Then paused. Awaited approval, a nod, anything.
Sirius responded without emotion.
"Move the eastern battalion to the third ridge. Fortify the Vale Wall. There's a volcanic fault they're ignoring—use it."
The man blinked. "You've never seen this region before…"
"I don't need to. I read faster than you think," Sirius said. "And I remember everything."
When the strategist left, stunned, Sirius returned to the moonlit window.
The stars were veiled tonight, but the moon broke through—quiet, soft, absolute.
He closed his eyes, feeling her presence. Not as a memory—but a living, breathing certainty that stirred something deep in his soul.
A fragment of a memory flickered.
A hand in his. Silver hair like starlight. A soft laugh. Her lips brushing his forehead as she said—
"No matter what happens, I am always yours."
He opened his eyes.
The warmth of that moment faded instantly into the cold of the palace air. Yet it lingered enough to make the silence in his chest feel a little louder.
Later that week, Sirius was summoned again—this time to a royal banquet.
He arrived late. Deliberately.
Nobles lined the great hall, dressed in velvets and adorned with jewels. They spoke in flowery tones, trying to draw his attention.
He didn't spare them a glance.
A few brave girls tried to approach. He walked past them.
One lady trailed after him, breathless, hoping for a word.
"Lord Sirius, may I—"
"No."
Just one word.
He didn't even turn to look.
It was enough to turn her cheeks pale and send her fleeing behind her father's chair.
The Emperor, amused by the display, raised a glass.
"Our Tenth Pillar has more power than charm, it seems."
"I have no need for either," Sirius replied calmly.
The room quieted.
He took his seat. Did not touch the wine. Ate only what he needed. His eyes never left the moon beyond the window.
He was already distant.
But that distance was growing.
No one realized it yet—not the nobles, not the court, not even his parents.
But with each passing moonrise, Sirius Farah Von Ross was drifting further and further from the human world.
Not because he hated it.
But because it simply… wasn't her.