"Father," Richard said, dropping to one knee before the towering figure.

  The man—King Volcaz Gildarion—looked down at his son, then slowly shifted his gaze toward Revan and Luna. His presence alone was suffocating, the heat of his authority felt without a word.

  "Kneel," Richard muttered sharply, casting an irritated glance at Revan and Luna.

  Revan dispelled the Etherea coating surrounding his body—the white-silver aura fading into nothingness. With a moment's hesitation, he lowered himself to one knee. Luna followed his lead, kneeling quietly behind him.

  The molten glow along Volcaz's arms faded. The flowing lava receded, revealing flesh—thick, scarred, and powerful, like cooled stone beneath the surface of a volcano.

  Volcaz strode forward with slow, deliberate steps. He stopped directly in front of Revan, towering over him. His gaze bore down like a weight.

  "Do you know who I am?" he asked coldly. His voice rumbled like distant thunder—calm, but full of restrained force.

  Revan looked up. "King Volcaz Gildarion."

  "Good," the king said flatly.

  Then, without looking back at Revan or Luna, he turned his head toward Richard. "Take them to their tent. Then come see me."

  He pivoted and walked back into the grand tent, the heavy flap falling shut behind him like the final beat of a war drum.

  Richard stood. A moment later, Revan and Luna rose to their feet in silence.

  "Shall we?" Revan said quietly, breaking the tension in the air.

  "Follow me," Richard replied, turning on his heel.

  They walked behind him, taking in their surroundings. The camp resembled a small forward base—temporary, but fortified. Wooden palisades and several watch posts circled the perimeter. Dozens of crimson and black tents filled the area, bearing the unmistakable colors of House Gildarion.

  Soldiers in gleaming armor moved about the camp, many marked with the Gildarion sigil. Some stood guard, others stirred steaming cauldrons over open flames, while a few paused to glance at the newcomers with vague curiosity.

  "There are a lot of soldiers here," Revan noted, eyes sweeping over the armed ranks.

  "We're hunting," Richard said flatly. "Someone stole a cache of Ether Stones. My father intends to deal with them… personally."

  Luna looked up. "How long have we been gone?"

  "Three days," Richard replied without missing a step.

  "Three days?!" Revan blinked in disbelief. "Well, I hope the food at my brother's party hasn't gone cold."

  Luna chuckled softly beside him.

  Richard slowed his pace just enough to glance over his shoulder at Revan, a smug smile curling at the corner of his lips.

  "You could've escaped sooner… if you were an Etherean."

  The words hit Revan like a flaming dagger. His chest tightened. His expression shifted, shadowed by a quiet sting of helplessness. Without a word, he lowered his gaze and followed, his steps a little heavier.

  Beside him, Luna noticed the change. Her hand moved, reaching toward him on instinct—but she hesitated mid-motion, unsure. After a moment, she pulled it back.

  Silence trailed them the rest of the way as they arrived at a larger tent flanked by two smaller side tents. Richard led the way inside.

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  Two maids awaited them, dressed in red and black—House Gildarion's signature colors.

  The tent itself was modest but refined, prepared with clear intent to host important guests. At the center stood a round table set with a variety of warm dishes. Against one wall sat two neatly made beds, each with a trunk placed at its foot.

  "See to our guests," Richard said curtly to the maids. "I need to report to my father."

  Then he turned to Luna, softening his voice only slightly. "I hope you enjoy your stay."

  His gaze shifted coldly to Revan. "Don't get too comfortable. Someone will escort you home."

  And with that, he turned and walked out.

  The two maids approached and gently guided Revan and Luna into the smaller side tents. There, warm water and fresh clothes awaited them.

  When they emerged sometime later, both had changed.

  Luna wore a noble dress in Gildarion's signature red and black—elegant, yet modest. The house crest was subtly embroidered near her shoulder. Her golden hair, usually untamed, was tied into a neat bun. She looked… composed. Regal. Beautiful.

  Across from her, Revan stood dressed in fresh Gildarion-tailored attire. It fit perfectly, almost uncomfortably so—like it was trying too hard to make him belong somewhere he didn't. A quiet contrast to his worn Vaelgrim leathers.

  They stood in silence for a moment, eyes meeting—neither quite knowing what to say.

  'The future queen of Durnhold Kingdom… huh?'

  The thought slipped into Revan's mind uninvited. It left a strange, bitter taste behind.

  His vision blurred—just briefly—and Luna noticed.

  She took a step forward, her tone soft. "Are you tired?"

  Revan blinked, refocusing. He forced a smile. "I'm fine. Let's eat."

  They made their way to the round table at the center of the tent. Revan sat first, helping himself to some roasted meat, his motions quiet and precise.

  Luna followed, choosing a portion of steamed vegetables and a bit of the same meat. The clinking of cutlery was the only sound for a few moments.

  "How are you feeling?" Revan asked, breaking the silence.

  Luna paused with her fork midair. "Strange thing is… I don't feel any different," she said. "Like nothing happened."

  "That's good," Revan murmured, a sigh of relief slipping past his lips.

  There was a brief smile from Luna. "Lucky your aunt showed up when she did."

  Revan hesitated, his eyes drifting to the side of the tent—the archways leading to the smaller chambers.

  "Not exactly," he said.

  Luna blinked. "What do you mean?"

  Revan raised a hand slightly, gesturing for her to wait. Just then, the two maids reappeared from either side, each carrying bundles of soiled clothing.

  "We'll take care of the laundry," one said with a courteous smile. She placed a large silver bell on the table near the exit. "Please ring if you need anything."

  They slipped out of the tent, the flap falling closed behind them.

  Only then did Revan lean in slightly, lowering his voice.

  "I met someone while you were unconscious. Down in the dungeon."

  Luna tilted her head. "Who?"

  "He said his name was Oliver. A Solfyr."

  Luna's eyes widened. "A Solfyr? My mother's one—I might know him."

  "He didn't look like a high prince of flame," Revan said, half-laughing. "More like a drunk beggar with a sword. But when he moved, when he fought… he took down Lord Cervarin in a single hit. Just—gone."

  He paused, as if replaying the moment.

  "He burned down the entire room. Every hooded figure in that place."

  Luna blinked. "All of them?"

  Revan nodded.

  She leaned back slightly, visibly stunned. "And then he just… left?"

  "He gave me and you a way out. Then my Aunt Vanya, teleported him away using a stone. She didn't seem happy about it."

  Luna frowned, thoughtful. "Why would a Solfyr help us… and then just vanish?"

  Revan gave a helpless shrug. "No idea."

  After a pause, he glanced at her. "Do you… have an uncle named Oliver?"

  Luna's brows pulled together. "I don't think so. I've never met anyone by that name—and I don't remember Mother ever mentioning an Oliver in her family."

  "What about a branch family?" Revan asked. "Maybe someone distant?"

  "Hm… maybe," Luna said slowly. "But if he is, I've never heard about it."

  Revan leaned back, his thoughts still spinning. "Anyway… those people—Cervarin and the others—they were trying to use your power for something. It had to do with this glowing parchment."

  "Glowing parchment?" Luna echoed, confused. "What were they trying to do with it?"

  "I don't know," Revan admitted, shaking his head. "They said something about it reacting to your light affinity… but it didn't do anything. Like they were missing a piece of the puzzle."

  Luna's gaze drifted downward. Her voice dropped to a murmur, almost to herself. "They're going to come after me again, aren't they?"

  There was a flicker of fear in her eyes—quiet, but real.

  Revan sat up a little straighter. "Your father's probably already putting half the empire on alert," he said, trying to sound reassuring. "And you've got a whole army watching your back now."

  He hesitated, then added with a wry smile, "Well… two kingdoms army, technically."

  There was a hint of bitterness in Revan's voice, but he masked it with a quiet chuckle.

  Luna didn't miss it.

  Her eyes stayed on him, studying his face. Something flickered there—something he wasn't saying. But before she could ask, Revan rose from his seat, brushing off his hands.

  "The sun's still out," he said, his voice lighter now. "Wanna look around the camp?"

  Luna blinked, surprised—but then a warm smile bloomed on her lips.

  "Sure," she replied, a bit more cheerfully than she meant to.