[Silthara Palace—Emperor's Chamber—Later]
Night settled over Silthara like a sealed tomb.
The palace did not sleep—not after an Emperor's execution order had been spoken aloud. Stone remembered such words. Walls listened. Even the torches burned quieter, as if unwilling to draw attention.
And within the Emperor's chamber, Zeramet and Levin lay upon the bed, bodies close, skin bare where clothes had been pushed aside. The blue-stone necklace rested against Levin's chest, catching the faint lamplight with every unsteady breath.
Zeramet's hand hovered at Levin's waist, not touching yet.
"I will proceed slowly. But understand this, Consort—what you ask of your body is not gentle. The pain will be… immense," he said, voice low and deliberate, his eyes fixed on him. "Still… I ask you once more—are you willing?"
Levin met his gaze.
"I am," he said quietly. "I am willing to bear life, Zer. As your wife, that is my duty."
For a moment, Zeramet said nothing.
