The Thread Severed

The library was quiet, but Caelan's mind was racing.

He closed the book he had been reading. Its spine creaked, as if it, too, felt the weight of the words inside. Demons with human faces. Hollowborn, who remembered what it meant to be human. Affinities that defied nature. And death flags. So many death flags.

One in particular caught his attention.

Lady Elena Von Ashblood.

His fiancée. His death sentence if the novel he once read was correct.

In the story, she was cold but sharp. A tragic figure with both dignity and wrath. Caelan—the original Caelan—had trampled her. He had orchestrated her fall from grace, her public humiliation, and the hollow shell she became.

And in the end, he had gained nothing.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. There was only one logical move if he wanted to survive.

He reached for parchment.

The candlelight flickered across the desk as he wrote the letter. His hand was steady, but his stomach felt tense. Each word was chosen carefully.

To His Grace, Duke Ashblood,

I write to request the annulment of my engagement to Lady Elena Von Ashblood.

This is not out of disdain but out of duty. Our engagement was formed during a time of political need and personal instability. Lady Elena deserves better than a future tied to someone who has caused her pain. I refuse to continue that.

I accept full responsibility and whatever judgment follows.

Caelan Crowndread

He folded the letter, sealed it, and handed it to the servant waiting by the door.

"Please deliver this discreetly."

The boy nodded and disappeared into the hallway.

Caelan leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

"One flag cut loose."

[Elena's POV]

Meanwhile,

Elena Von Ashblood stood on the balcony of her family estate, clutching a letter tightly. Her grip left deep creases in the parchment, and the wax seal was already cracked.

She had read it twice. Once with disbelief. A second time with anger.

Now, she stared into the morning fog, her eyes sharp beneath her calm exterior.

Behind her, a maid hovered nervously. "My Lady, the Duke is asking for—"

"Let him wait," Elena said, her voice tight.

She pressed the letter to her chest for a moment, as if trying to steady herself, then turned away from the balcony.

So, you think you're protecting me now, Caelan? she thought. After everything you've done, you choose to play the martyr?

A bitter smile tugged at her lips.

You don't get to be noble after all this.

Still, her heart was conflicted.

Was it relief? Anger? Vindication? She couldn't tell. But one thing was clear—

This wasn't over.

Not by a long shot.

[Caelan's POV]

The knock came early the next morning.

Caelan opened his eyes at the first sound and swung his legs out of bed. Before he could reach the door, it opened slightly.

"Your Highness," a voice said carefully. "His Majesty requests your presence. In his study."

That was never a good sign.

Caelan dressed quickly, his mind already preparing layers of etiquette and caution.

The royal study was filled with quiet tension. Polished bookshelves lined the walls. The scent of ink hung in the air. A fire crackled softly. Three people waited inside.

The King stood by the hearth, hands clasped behind his back.

The Empress sat nearby, her expression unreadable but sharp.

And Duke Ashblood stood like a cliff, unmoving, his eyes cold.

Caelan entered.

"You sent a letter," the Duke said without hesitation.

"Yes."

"You intend to shame my daughter?"

"No," Caelan replied. "I want to free her."

The King raised a hand. "Explain."

Caelan met his father's gaze. "The engagement was made in a time of chaos. I—the former me—acted recklessly. Elena was treated as a political pawn. I don't want her bound to that version of me or punished for my past."

The Empress narrowed her eyes, studying him like an object she couldn't quite identify.

"You say this is for her sake," the Duke said slowly.

"Yes."

"And not your own?"

Caelan exhaled. "It's both."

Silence followed.

Finally, the King spoke.

"So be it. The engagement is annulled."

The Duke turned sharply. "Your Majesty—"

"It is done," the King replied flatly. "The realm will not fracture over this."

Duke Ashblood's glare burned into Caelan. "You had better hope she never cries over this again."

"I already do."

As the door closed behind them, Caelan stood alone in the quiet study.

Another step forward. Another thread severed.

Only a thousand more to go.