The royal kitchen was eerily quiet, stripped of its usual warmth and bustling energy. Most of the maids had already left to be with their families, knowing that when war came, nothing was guaranteed, not safety, not survival. Even the palace itself felt emptier, with only a few guards remaining, their presence more of a formality than a necessity.
The world stood on edge, caught in the grip of one of the greatest wars in history. Nations braced for bloodshed, alliances crumbled, and faith wavered. And Hestros...Hestros had chosen to fight for the wrong side.
Gabe never thought it possible to despise someone as much as he despised Deroki in this moment. The man he had once admired, perhaps even loved, was now backing one of the most ruthless, merciless kings in existence. Why? No one knew.
But in the court of Hestros, the King's word was absolute. His decisions were gospel, his motives unquestioned. And if Deroki had aligned himself with a tyrant, then it must be the right course. At least, that was what the people told themselves. Blind faith bound them to their ruler, and their loyalty would carry them into battle, into bloodshed, into death.
Gabe, however, was not blind. He saw the truth as clearly as he saw his own reflection. Deroki didn't care for human livs, just like he didn't care for ones heart. All he cared for was his dictatorship that would only come by siding with a tyrant like Marcella. Gabe gritted his teeth so hard it almost cracked. How could he ever felt something for a monster? He was too blind in his devotion and in his love to see the truth in plain sight. Deroki was evil...as evil as an immortal could be.
Gabe knelt on the cold marble floor, scrubbing at the deep cracks in the stone of the palace corridor with a brush that had long since worn down. His hands were raw from hours of work, but he barely felt it. The monotonous task was better than thinking, better than worrying about the war looming over them like a storm cloud ready to burst.
The rhythmic scrape of bristles against stone was interrupted by the soft shuffle of footsteps. He looked up just as they stopped in front of him.
"Marisel," he greeted, quickly rising to his feet. He wiped his damp hands on his already stained clothes, concern knitting his brows as he took in her appearance.
She looked exhausted. Her usually sharp, defiant eyes were swollen and tinged red, as if she had either been crying for hours or hadn't slept in days. Her pale complexion, the way she trembled slightly, Gabe knew something was wrong.
"I need your help, Gabe," she said, her voice strained, thick with desperation.
"What happened? Are you okay?" he asked, stepping closer and instinctively reaching for her hand. It was ice-cold.
She shook her head, blinking rapidly as though trying to hold back tears. "He's going to destroy everything."
Gabe frowned, his mind instantly going to the one person who had been tormenting his thoughts and the thoughts of the entire nation. "Are you talking about the King?"
She gave a small nod, her lips pressing together like she was trying to keep herself from crumbling entirely.
Gabe let out a slow breath before pulling her into a loose embrace, one arm wrapped around her shoulder in silent comfort. She wasn't alone in this. She wasn't the only one terrified of what Deroki was becoming. The man had toyed with his people's emotions, twisted their faith, shattered their peace. And now, he was leading them all toward ruin.
"I don't know what to say, Marisel," Gabe murmured, his voice tinged with helplessness. "I can't even tell you to have faith in the gods because he is one. All I can do is stand by your side through this."
Gabe barely had time to react before Marisel tightened her fingers like iron around his wrist. Her eyes, once filled with fear, now burned with something more intense. Determination.
"You can stop this," she whispered, her voice urgent.
Gabe stared at her, confusion clouding his thoughts. He wondered, for a fleeting second, if Marisel had lost her mind in all the chaos.
"Me?" he asked hesitantly.
"Yes, you, Gabe. Only you can stop him."
"I don't think..."
"Gabe," she cut him off, her voice sharp, pleading. "Listen to me. I have to tell you something. It's very important."
Before he could protest, she pulled him toward the farthest corner of the hallway, away from the few remaining maids who were still moving through the palace, whispering anxiously about the impending war.
Gabe's heart pounded as she turned to him again, her grip never loosening. "Can you meet me at the library tonight?"
He frowned, hesitant. "Marisel, I'm not allowed..."
"Sneak out," she insisted. "No one is going to care now. The world is ending, Gabe. One maid slipping into the night isn't going to make a difference."
Something about the way she said it made his stomach twist. The desperation in her voice, the way her hands trembled ever so slightly, she wasn't just afraid of the war. She was afraid of something else, something bigger.
He knew he shouldn't. He knew if he got caught, the consequences could be severe. And yet, despite every rational part of his brain screaming at him to say no, the words that left his mouth were, "I'll be there."
***
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