The Emperor turned, already gesturing again. Three more attendants stepped forward, each holding smaller but equally ornate offerings.
To Zeyu, a pair of fire-threaded gauntlets that shimmered with protective runes.
To Zemei, a silver chain lined with tempest charms, its energy humming faintly with wind.
To Zemu, a scroll case carved from mirrored stone, its seal glowing faintly with runic locks.
"Your trials are complete for now. Go greet the rest of the court and take your rest. They are an important part of the Empire—and your masters have arrived as well. You'll be summoned again soon enough."
Then, without another word, the Emperor turned and walked away, a small retinue trailing behind him. Just before exiting, he paused and glanced back toward Akira—no expression, just a measured look and then disappeared through the gate.
Zehui didn't spare Akira a single glance as she walked past him, her new sword strapped to her back. She moved directly to Daita, bowing her head.
"You haven't aged a day," she said with a faint smirk.
Daita chuckled and handed her a small folded scroll. "Welcome home. Don't open this in public unless you want your pride shattered."
Zeyu came next, swagger in every step. He stopped in front of Akira and gave the bare minimum of a bow. "Crown Prince."
"Fourth Prince," Akira replied smoothly, his tone unusually sweet.
Zeyu rolled his eyes and pulled something from within his robes—a small, flat bundle wrapped in worn silk. He handed it over. "Congratulations on not burning down the palace while we were away… Here's the thing you asked for. Took me three detours and a whole night in a cursed ravine to find it."
Akira unfolded the bundle slightly, "You're better than half my informants."
Zeyu scoffed, clearly unimpressed. "I didn't struggle through bone-deep mud and spirit traps for free. You promised I could choose one weapon from your personal collection."
Akira let out a low chuckle and nodded. "Fine. You can visit the armory after you've greeted the three courts. But don't touch the weird ones."
Zeyu shot him a look. "Everything in your collection is weird. One of your swords literally doubles as a soup ladle. Who forges a blade to stir stew?"
"I like variety."
"I'm taking the best one," Zeyu said, already turning on his heel.
Zeyu walked off, and Daita clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder—hard enough to make him stumble a step.
"Glad you didn't drop dead before they got here," Daita grinned. "Would've made me… mildly sad."
Zeyu narrowed his eyes, but before he could reply, Daita handed him a scroll, his voice dropping to a mutter. "Open it when no one's around. It's your reward."
Zeyu looked at the scroll, suspicious. Then his eyes suddenly widened, realization flashing across his face.
"Wait—wait! What did you give the Crown Prince?!" Daita called out, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
But Zeyu was already walking off, raising a hand lazily over his shoulder.
"I have to greet the rest of the upper court officials before they start sulking. Ask him yourself—if he's still alive by then."
Daita let out a scoff, shaking his head. "Brat."
Zemei's gaze, cool and distant, flicked briefly toward Akira. Her expression unreadable, she turned without a word, her robes trailing like silver wind behind her as she walked away.
Zemu, having watched the entire exchange in silence, offered a casual half-bow from where he stood. "I'll collect my reward later," he said, voice light with a shrug, and then followed after Zemei without waiting for permission.
Zuzu leaned in toward Akira, voice hushed. "I give it one week before Zeyu and Zemu try to kill each other again."
"One week?" Daita snorted. "You're way too optimistic."
"They've just returned," Akira said mildly. "Try not to insult them in front of the upper courts. And Daita…" He exhaled slowly. "Remember—they're your siblings."
Both Daita and Zuzu groaned in unison, rolling their eyes as they turned away.
"Here we go again…" they muttered under their breath.
————
Inside Zehui's Chamber
The late afternoon light filtered through the lattice windows, casting pale golden patterns across the polished floor. Zehui sat quietly at the low table, the red-gemmed sword resting in her lap. Her fingers traced the intricate hilt, slow and deliberate.
"So… Father had this embedded in his sword too?" she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. Her voice held no awe—only a weight that settled in her chest.
A knock broke the silence.
Her fingers stilled. She didn't answer at first. Then, with a slight frown and a breath through her nose, she set the sword down and said curtly, "Enter."
The door creaked open.
Akira stepped in.
Zehui's entire posture shifted. She rose at once and turned her back to him, eyes sharp and blazing.
"…Zehui."
"Crown Prince," she said coldly. "You may leave immediately. I've been instructed to rest."
Akira's tone remained gentle. "I came to check on you."
"I don't need checking on." Her voice tightened. "And I don't need anything from you."
He didn't move. His smile—faint, stayed in place.
"I prepared something for you," he said softly, "but you didn't—"
"I said I don't need anything from you." She turned, arms folded."You still think handing me something makes any of it better?"
Akira's expression faltered just slightly. "That's not why I came."
"Then why?" she snapped. "To see if we still bow when you walk by? To make sure the everyone still spins around the golden son?"
Before Akira could respond, the door began to slide shut in his face.
He caught it with one hand.
"I came because I care about you," he said quietly. "I heard about the snakebite during your trial."
Zehui turned sharply, her jaw clenched.
"You care about me?" Her voice was sharp, rising like a blade. "Don't pretend you do."
"I do."
"No." She stepped closer, eyes blazing. "If you truly cared… none of it would've happened. Or are you still not satisfied?" Her voice trembled beneath its fury. "Do you want to take our lives too? Just like you took those lives…"
She stepped in, each word sharper than the last.
"…including your sister. You shattered the empire by taking the lives of—"
"Zehui!"
His voice cracked through the chamber like a sudden storm.
The words struck like arrows.
The air fell still.
A muscle twitched in Akira's jaw. His hands curled at his sides, and his grip on the door tightened—fine cracks spidering through the wood beneath his fingers.
Zehui watched it all the composure cracking, the pain leaking through like blood under glass.
She tilted her head, voice low and biting.
"Do those memories hurt?"
Akira didn't answer. He couldn't.
Zehui's eyes narrowed.
"Good," she said coldly, turning away. "Then I'll make sure you never forget. Even if the outside world remain blind to what truly happened thirteen years ago—blind to who really caused it—I will make sure you remember. Because even when the fire dies, the fumes still linger."
The door slid shut behind her with a soft final thud, leaving Akira alone in the corridor.