The scent of roses clung to Queen Bianca as she strolled into the nursery, her silver-threaded robes trailing like the tail of a serpent. Servants cleared the room without a word—everyone knew better than to linger when she wore that particular smile.
"Good morning, my sons," she sang. Her voice was all velvet and venom.
Gabriel, ever eager, ran to her. "Mother, I beat three guards in wooden swordplay!"
Bianca cupped his face, cooing, "Of course you did. My golden boy."
Daemon remained seated in the corner, building a castle from black stones. The walls were uneven, the towers cracked. Deliberately imperfect. Still, his hands moved with unsettling calm.
"And you, Daemon?" she asked.
He looked up with the softest smile. "I'm learning to be strong, Mother. Like Gabriel."
Bianca's eyes flickered. Too polished. Too safe.
"Good," she said after a beat. "You'll have help now."
She gestured toward the doorway.
In stepped Noah.
He looked nothing like an assassin—broad-shouldered, brown-skinned, with shaggy dark hair and a mild smile that didn't reach his eyes. His presence, however, was wrong.
Even Daemon felt it: something heavy, tightly coiled beneath Noah's calm. Like a blade kept hidden under silk.
"This is Noah," Bianca announced. "A master of aura control. He'll be teaching both of you, personally. Be polite."
Daemon's stomach curled. A six-star? In the palace? Just for them?
Gabriel pouted immediately. "I don't want to learn with him!" he snapped, pointing at Daemon. "He's weird. He always stares. And he touched my sword when I told him not to."
Bianca laughed as though it was charming. "You'll learn together. After all..." Her smile sharpened. "You're twins."
Then, she leaned in close to Daemon. Too close.
Her lips brushed his ear.
"Learn well, my darling. It'd be a shame if your talent went unnoticed... or wasted."
With that, she turned and swept out, her perfume clinging to the room like a warning.
Once she was gone, the silence thickened.
Noah finally spoke. "So. You're the little royals I've heard so much about."
His tone was casual, but Daemon heard the undercurrent.
Measured. Watchful. Trained.
Noah clapped his hands. "Aura core development. That's our first lesson."
He drew a line in the sand with his foot, then sat cross-legged. "Come. Sit. We start with breath."
Gabriel flopped down, already bored. Daemon followed quietly, expression blank.
Noah closed his eyes and began explaining. "Mana is everywhere. In the air, in the ground, in you. Aura is the refinement of that mana—condensed will, focused force. It starts here—"
He tapped his chest.
"—and here." He tapped his temple.
"Focus on your breath. Let the world in. Do not force it. Let the mana want you."
Gabriel yawned loudly. "This is stupid. Why can't you just teach me how to shoot fireballs?"
Noah chuckled. "Fireballs come after foundations. You build a house on sand, you get buried when the storm comes."
Daemon sat quietly, pretending to struggle. He didn't move his core. Not yet.
He knew a setup when he saw one.
He could feel Noah's attention hovering—just a hair too sharp.
He's testing me. Watching how fast I catch on.
Daemon kept his breathing uneven, exaggerated the confusion in his eyes.
But deep inside his core, he pulsed once—silently, like a second heartbeat—and felt his aura ripple in answer.
Let's not show the wolf my fangs just yet.
Still, as they "trained," Daemon subtly reached out—sensed the weight in Noah's aura.
Six-star. No question.
A predator disguised as a teacher.
Too strong to fight. Too smart to fool. I'll have to tiptoe until I grow fangs long enough to bite him back.
Noah opened one eye briefly.
Daemon's posture was off. His hands fidgeted. A poor student.
Yet... something about that stillness was off.
Like a snake playing dead.
Noah said nothing. But he made a note.
And Daemon, behind his mask of innocent confusion, smiled.
*****
(A week later)
The morning sun spilled across the palace courtyard, gilding the stone in warm light as the twins knelt before Noah in silent meditation.
Daemon's eyes were half-lidded. Unmoving. Breathing steady.
Gabriel, by contrast, twitched with impatience.
"I don't feel anything," he grumbled.
"Be quiet and focus," Noah said, not unkindly. "Aura isn't loud. It's a whisper."
Minutes passed.
Then Gabriel stiffened.
His brows furrowed. A slow, sharp breath escaped his lips.
The air shimmered faintly around him.
Noah's head snapped up.
The ground under Gabriel cracked slightly—dust swirling as a faint golden light pulsed from his chest.
A flare of awakened aura.
Noah stood immediately, stepping forward. His eyes gleamed with approval. "You did it."
Gabriel blinked. "What?"
"You've formed your core," Noah said, kneeling to examine him. "You're a one-star now. At five years old... Impressive. Most nobles awaken at eight or later."
Gabriel puffed up instantly. "I knew I'd beat him." He glanced smugly at Daemon.
Daemon looked up, smiling faintly. "Congratulations, Gabriel."
Noah turned to Daemon. "And you? Any stirrings yet?"
Daemon shrugged innocently. "I felt warm, but... nothing like him."
Noah narrowed his eyes slightly, but said nothing.
Later, as Gabriel raced off to tell Queen Bianca, practically glowing with pride, Daemon remained on the training ground—alone again.
He sat beneath the rusted archway, watching ants trail across the stone.
A one-star already, huh? he thought, lips curling.
Good. I want you strong. I want you fast. I want you proud of it. That way, when I destroy you, there won't be excuses. No mercy. No "you were weaker."
He touched the center of his chest, where his second-star aura core throbbed silently like a black sun.
Still too small. Still not enough.
He remembered the wars of his past life. His blade clashing with monsters. His cape torn in fire. His back turned by allies.
By Gabriel.
That betrayal still lived in his bones like a scar that never stopped burning.
But now his brother had awakened.
It was beginning.
The story was writing itself again—but this time, Daemon held the pen.
And he would make sure the final chapter ended with blood.