Chapter 11: Moon Chamber-3

One by one, people mourned Aariv.

Some left silently, others lingered longer than expected. The chamber breathed in grief and exhaled silence.

Among the crowd, near a far corner where the candlelight softened into shadow, a young boy around thirteen tugged his father's robe.

"Father... who are they all?" he asked, pointing to the walls lined with names.

"They were all kings," his father said quietly.

The boy's eyes wandered up to a grand plaque of carved stone. He squinted.

"Father, look—on top. Same name as brother Aariv."

His father let out a quiet sigh. "No... your brother is named after him."

"But why's one of the names written in red? That king has the same name, too."

"Shh. You shouldn't speak about that here. Understand?"

"But Dad—"

"It was for a reason," the father said, not meeting the boy's eyes. "When we go home, ask your mother."

"You never tell me anything," the boy said.

"I'm sending you to school, and you still don't know that your brother was named after the First King."

"They're just like you," the boy said. "Always tell me to ask Mother."

An old woman nearby turned her head. Her voice cut through the quiet like a soft breeze.

"Vira," she said gently. "The reason your father didn't tell you is because that king—whose name is in red—did some things no one dares to speak of."

The boy looked at her, puzzled. "Grandma... were those things good or bad?"

"That depends," she replied. "For some, they were bad. For others, they were good."

"So... for us? Was he a good king or a bad one?"

"If he was only good, his name wouldn't have been etched in red," she said. "And if he was only bad, it wouldn't be among those names at all."

The boy nodded slowly, eyes drifting back to the wall.

"I know you don't understand now," she said. "But you will. In time."

A sudden shift ran through the chamber.

The crowd stirred.

Even the royals moved aside.

Silence fell.

Three entered.

Two men and one woman. All three tall, young, and unmistakably related — triplets.

They walked with perfect symmetry. The woman in the middle, flanked by her brothers.

All three dressed in subtle black and silver, swords sheathed but visible. Hair silver-white, eyes sharp and cold — like steel held over frost.

They were:

Maeranya Trivanti – Queen of the Northern Lands

Varenya Trivanti – King of the Northern Seas

Vanindra Trivanti – King of the Northern Woods

Allies of Sagnik.

The three walked toward Aariv's coffin. Without hesitation, they dropped to one knee.

Three heads bowed at once — one motion, one breath, one silence.

Kaivan watched, unmoving.

Seriya didn't blink.

They rose slowly and stepped forward.

Maeranya was the first to speak.

"Aunt Seriya," she said, her voice calm but tight. "I—we—share your grief. Aariv wasn't just your son. He was our brother, too."

Seriya's eyes softened. Her lips trembled for a brief moment, but she nodded.

"We will remember him always," Maeranya added, pressing her forehead to Seriya's palm in the Northern gesture of deep respect.

Varenya clasped Kaivan's forearm.

"Uncle," he said. "Give us your word, and we'll light the seas red with their blood."

Kaivan looked into the young man's eyes. The fury there was controlled, but burning.

"We're not there yet," Kaivan replied. "But when it comes, I'll send the word."

Vanindra bowed slightly to both of them.

"You raised a man — and a better man than most kings I've known."

Seriya placed a hand on his cheek, wordless.

"You three have grown," she finally said, voice quiet.

"We had to," Maeranya replied. "The North doesn't forgive weakness."

They stood with them for a moment longer. No more words were needed.

Then, stepping back, they joined the edge of the chamber.

More entered — strangers, cousins, nobles, scholars.

The Moon Chamber, though vast, began to feel small.

Everyone wore either black or white.

Some faces held genuine sorrow — old friends, loyal allies, those who'd once held Aariv as a child.

A few came forward. A scholar bowed to Seriya and whispered, "He was the kind of prince who made us believe in peace again."

Seriya said nothing, only placed a hand over her heart.

Another noble approached Kaivan. "We lost more than a king today."

Kaivan gave a small nod.

Time, thick with sorrow, drifted on.

The sky outside had begun to pale.

Almost morning.

Footsteps echoed—heavy, loud, rushed. The kind that didn't ask for space, but demanded it.

Seven entered the Moon Chamber.

A man and woman in their forties led the way, followed by five children. The eldest, a boy of sixteen, walked straight-backed with his hand resting gently on his sister's shoulder.

Two boys, two girls, and... the youngest — sleepy eight-year-old boy.

They didn't wear black. Or white.

They wore colours—bold shades of green, red, and blue—each garment crested with the sigil of seed and dagger.

The man in front bore scars across his face, his hands, and his neck. Each one spoke of... battles survived and ones still remembered.

He was Raviel Thalore, King of Velmira.

Seriya's younger brother.

Beside him walked Amaraya Thalore, Queen of Velmira—tall, composed, and unblinking.

Silence swallowed the room.

Even those who had once spoken in whispers now held their breath.

Velmira was far from Sagnik—across four seas, at the edge of unknown waters. A kingdom hidden in legends and warnings. Known for pirates, criminals, and those who'd vanished from other lands.

For most, the journey took three months. But Raviel and Amaraya arrived before sunrise.

To outsiders, Velmira was a legend — the land of vanished men and forgiven monsters. But within those wild stories lay a single truth — "Velmira was the place where the lost could be found again."

Velmira had hundreds of laws. But one stood above them all:

"Once you get Velmira's citizenship, your past will be forgiven. Crimes can be pardoned, but sins will not."

A murderer who killed for money could be forgiven. But a man who killed for pleasure — a sinner — would never.

Velmira did not accept monsters. Only the broken.

There was a difference.

And in Velmira, they knew exactly which was which.

Even so, most kingdoms saw it as a nest of danger. Yet none dared invade.

The chamber watched as Raviel and Amaraya approached the coffin. Their children stayed behind in a line, still and quiet.

The triplets of the north narrowed their gazes but said nothing.

Raviel knelt first. His hands pressed against the base of the coffin as he bowed his head. Amaraya followed.

Seriya's lips quivered. Her voice broke.

"You came..."

Raviel stood and looked at her. "You thought I wouldn't?"

"You didn't come to his wedding," Kaivan said.

"There was blood between me and you both," Raviel said calmly. "A personal fight. Not politics."

"You were angry," Seriya said.

"I still am," he admitted. "But this—" he gestured to the coffin— "this has nothing to do with that."

Amaraya stepped closer, eyes locked on Kaivan. "You think we wouldn't cross four seas for our nephew's death? For your son?"

"It wasn't anger I feared. It was pride."

"Pride can keep me from a feast. Not from grief."

Seriya touched her brother's arm. "You should've come sooner."

"I didn't know how," he said, and then looked at Aariv's face. "But I came as fast as I could."

The eldest child stepped forward, uncertain.

"Mother... is that cousin Aariv?"

Amaraya's jaw clenched. She nodded. "Yes."

"Was he kind?" the second daughter asked.

Raviel looked at her. "He was better than kind. He made his people feel safe."

Kaivan moved beside Seriya. "Your children must be tired. Let them rest."

"We will," Amaraya said softly.

And in that quiet space, the Thalores of Velmira stood beside the fallen king.