The heavy oak doors of the Mercian palace chamber burst open with a resounding crash. Mara stormed through the threshold, her leather boots striking the polished marble in a sharp staccato that echoed through the vaulted space. Shadows danced across the room from the flickering chandeliers above, casting everything in an amber twilight that made the opulent chamber feel more like a tomb than a place of power.

"Fidor!" Mara's voice cut through the silence like a blade, sharp with urgency and barely contained panic. Her eyes swept the room as she advanced, her cloak billowing behind her. "My mark on Fin, it's completely gone. Vanished without a trace. Has Soga reported anything unusual from his surveillance?"

The words died in her throat as her gaze fell upon the scene before her, and she froze mid-stride as if she'd walked into an invisible wall.

Soga slumped in an ornate chair beside the massive oak table, his head resting heavily on the polished surface. His mask sat askew. His turquoise eyes, normally sharp with cunning intelligence, were glazed and unfocused, staring at nothing.

Across from him, sat Fidorviole, and the sight of her brother sent ice through Mara's veins. His massive frame was hunched forward like a man bearing the weight of the world, one enormous hand wrapped around an entire bottle of wine as if it were his only anchor to sanity. The pristine uniform he wore with such pride was wrinkled and stained, his usually immaculate appearance destroyed. His eyes, those commanding eyes that had intimidated subordinates and enemies alike, were clouded with something far darker than wine. Defeat, perhaps. Or shame so deep it had hollowed him out from within.

Mara's stomach twisted into knots as she took in the tableau of destruction before her. Something had gone catastrophically wrong.

"Why are you here, Soga?" she demanded, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper that somehow carried more menace than any shout. Each word was precisely enunciated, sharp as glass. "It's not time for your scheduled report. Where did you leave Fin? What happened?"

Soga lifted his head with visible effort, his movements sluggish and pained. He opened his mouth to speak, but before a single word could escape, Fidor's glare cut through the air like a physical force. The look was enough to silence even the wind, and Soga's mouth snapped shut, his eyes darting away in fear.

The captain turned slowly to face his sister, his expression carved from stone and heavy with a resignation that seemed to age him in an instant. When he spoke, his voice was rough and raw, abraded by wine and what sounded suspiciously like unshed tears.

"Well, sister," he said, each word falling like a stone into still water, creating ripples of dread, "we don't have him anymore."

The words hit Mara like a physical blow. Her breath caught in her chest, and for a moment, the world tilted dangerously. "What?!" The single word exploded from her lips as she crossed the room in three quick strides, her hands shooting out to grab Fidor by the collar of his once-pristine uniform. Her knuckles went white with the force of her grip, and she pulled him forward until their faces were mere inches apart.

"What do you mean we don't have Fin anymore?" she snarled, her eyes blazing with a fury that could have melted steel. "Explain. Now."

From his position at the table, Soga mumbled something barely audible, his words slurred and indistinct. "Everything was going according to plan... until some overpowered grandpa showed up and ruined everything."

Mara's head whipped toward him so fast it was a wonder her neck didn't snap. The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.

"What do you mean 'according to plan'?" Her voice was deadly quiet now. Each word enunciated with terrifying precision.

In a flicker of displaced air, she teleported across the room, reappearing mere inches from Soga's face. Her presence was suffocating, like being trapped in a cave-in, and Soga instinctively tried to shrink back into his chair.

"Don't you dare look at him," she hissed, jabbing a finger toward Fidor without taking her blazing eyes off Soga's terrified face. "You're talking to me now, and only me. What. Do. You. Mean. By. Plan?"

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Soga flinched as if she'd struck him, his usual swagger and confidence completely evaporated. He glanced desperately toward Fidor, seeking some kind of support or rescue, but Mara's glare pinned him in place like an insect on a board. The intensity of her stare seemed to strip away his defenses, leaving him raw and exposed.

"I... I was given explicit orders by the captain," he began, his words tumbling out faster as if speed could somehow lessen their impact. "To get Fin on the king's side. By any means necessary. No matter what it took."

He swallowed hard, his throat working visibly. "So I... I suggested he release one of his passive skills. The one that keeps his emotions in check, maintains his equilibrium. I figured if he lost control, became emotionally unstable, he'd be more... malleable. More open to suggestions for 'help' and guidance."

The confession hung in the air like a toxic cloud.

"And he did lose it, brilliantly, spectacularly. Beat that pirate captain to death with his bare hands. I was certain that within a year, maybe less, I could have had him completely under my influence."

The silence that followed was deafening, so complete it seemed to swallow sound itself. Even the drip of wine from Fidor's bottle seemed muted, as if the world itself was holding its breath. Mara's face cycled through emotions, disbelief, horror, and finally a cold rage that was more terrifying than any explosion of temper.

Without warning, her fist lashed out with lightning speed, connecting with Soga's jaw in a crack that echoed through the chamber like an explosion. His head snapped back with brutal force, and he crumpled to the marble floor, unconscious before he hit the ground.

"Mara, stop!" Fidor surged to his feet, the wine bottle clattering to the table as he moved to intervene.

But her rage was a living entity now, wild and uncontainable, feeding on betrayal and growing stronger with each passing second. She whirled on her brother, her voice trembling with a fury so pure it was almost holy.

"How could you do this, Fidor? How could you look at that child, that brilliant, damaged, wonderful child, and decide to break him further?"

Fidor slumped back into his chair as if the strings holding him upright had been cut. The fight drained from him like water from a broken vessel, leaving him hollow and defeated.

"He has so much potential, Mara," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Power beyond anything we've seen in generations. Tier Two at thirteen years old, with skills that defy every known law of magic and nature. He could be our sword, our shield. He could protect this kingdom from all the threats gathering at our borders."

Mara's laugh was bitter and cutting, sharp enough to draw blood. "You're not just a fool, Fidor. You're a psychopath. What kind of person looks at a thirteen-year-old child, a child who's already been exiled, abandoned, betrayed by the very kingdom you're so desperate to serve, and decides to mold him into a weapon? What kind of monster does that?"

Fidor's jaw tightened, his massive hand gripping the bottle's neck until the glass creaked ominously under the pressure. "I am this kingdom's protector," he said, his voice gaining strength and conviction. "I'll do whatever it takes to keep Mercia safe. Whatever the cost, whatever the sacrifice. That's my duty, my burden."

"Do you even hear yourself?" Mara's voice rose. "You sound like you're the one who's been brainwashed. This kingdom isn't even our true home, Fidor!"

"It's the only home I have left," Fidor shot back, his voice raw and desperate, cracking like a whip. "You know what we lost, Mara. You know what was taken from us. You know why I…"

"You're truly lost," Mara cut him off, her words cold and final as a death sentence. She turned toward the door, her cloak swirling behind her.

Fidor's voice followed her, quieter now, almost pleading, stripped of all its usual command and authority. "Don't bother trying to find him, Mara. He's with Theron Aodh now. Even if we wanted him back, we can't touch him. Not with that monster guarding him like a dragon guards its hoard."

She paused at the doorway, her back still to him, her silhouette framed against the torchlight of the corridor beyond.

"Good," she said, her voice barely above a whisper but heavy with absolute conviction.

Then she was gone, the door slamming shut behind her.

Fidor stared at the empty doorway for what felt like an eternity, the silence swallowing the room whole. His gaze drifted to Soga's unconscious form sprawled on the cold marble, chest rising and falling in shallow, pained breaths. He lifted the wine bottle with hands that shook almost imperceptibly, took a long, slow pull that burned his throat, and let it fall back to the table with a hollow, echoing thud.

The liquid burned, but it did nothing to ease the crushing weight in his chest, the sense that everything he'd built, everything he'd believed in, was crumbling to dust around him.

He'd done what he thought was right, what he'd always done. Duty above all. The kingdom above all. But Mara's words echoed in his mind like a curse, each one a splinter working its way deeper under his skin. Lost. Psychopath. Brainwashed.

Maybe she was right. Maybe he was lost.

Fidor leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling where shadows danced like ghosts of all his failed decisions. "What have I done?" he muttered, the words swallowed by the empty, accusing silence.

The bottle slipped from his nerveless fingers, rolling across the table before falling to shatter on the marble floor, its contents spreading like blood from a mortal wound.

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