Mark’s giggle echoed faintly along the stone corridor as he pulled his short golden cloak tighter around his shoulders, almost like a child clutching a blanket. His eyes glimmered with mischief, lips curved in that sly little smile he always wore when things were unfolding just as he wanted.
"Enjoying yourself, your highness?"
The voice came from just behind him, light and teasing. Mark turned his head, and there she was: Mina, though not in her usual form. She wore the plain disguised of the orange maid, blending perfectly among the other servants who hurried past. Her dark eyes sparkled with mockery as she walked beside him, hands clasped neatly as if she truly belonged there.
Mark tilted his head, smirk lingering. "Mina. I see you’ve decided to crawl out of your master’s shadow again."
Mina giggled, a sound at once playful and dangerous. "How could I resist? You set such an interesting little trap, and now it’s all coming together. I thought I’d watch the fun."
Mark shrugged as though the compliment meant nothing. "Suit yourself." He adjusted his cloak as a group of maids passed them, all bowing politely. They smiled nervously at him but never dared to meet his eyes. Mina, meanwhile, looked utterly bored, her disguise so natural that none of them gave her a second glance.
They walked in silence for a moment, the sound of their footsteps soft against the stone. Then Mark glanced at her sidelong. "Why are you still following me, Mina? Sorus always kept you away from me. Said it was for the best." His tone was half-curious, half-taunting.
Mina only shrugged. "Sorus is dull sometimes. I was bored. And you... you’re fun to be around. At least on rare occasions."
Mark chuckled, a low, humorless sound. "Fun? Or is it because you don’t have anyone to kill at the moment?"
Her lips twitched downward into a frown, just for a heartbeat, before smoothing back into a careless smile.
Before she could retort, the clatter of wheels interrupted. A cart barreled down the corridor, piled high with crates. The driver, a sweating servant, shouted a rushed apology as he swerved past, bowing awkwardly without stopping. Mark pulled back, cloak fluttering.
Mina smirked slyly. "Whoops. Looks like you don’t need saving after all."
Mark’s expression soured. "It doesn’t matter," he said coldly. "My stupid father has already taken the bait. Everything else is inevitable. Sooner or later, Mina, you’ll have a new plaything. Isn’t that what you want?"
She only gave him a sidelong glance, her smile thin and unreadable, before turning her head away.
The corridor stretched on. Then—running footsteps echoed behind them.
Mark slowed, sensing who it was before he even turned.
Prince Eilan appeared at the far end of the hall, sweat dripping from his brow, his practice sword still strapped to his side. His chest heaved with exertion, and his hair clung to his forehead. Clearly, he had just come from the training grounds.
Mina scowled faintly but in the blink of an eye slipped back into her disguise, her posture straightening, expression blank. She bowed neatly, just another orange maid in the background.
Eilan’s sharp gaze flicked to her briefly, then dismissed her entirely as his lips curled into a taunting grin.
"Well, well, big brother," Eilan drawled, his voice carrying mockery. "Father just summoned me. Perhaps he’ll finally give me a real task. A harder one." He let the words hang, waiting for a reaction.
Mark’s face remained blank, expressionless, as if he hadn’t heard a word.
That calm indifference only fueled Eilan’s irritation. His grin sharpened. "Tell me, Mark... when was the last time Father ever took you to the capital? When was the last time he bought you anything worth showing?"
With a flourish, Eilan drew his blade halfway from its scabbard. The ruby set in its hilt gleamed brilliantly, newly polished. "See this? Father gave it to me. Pure gold setting, ruby from the southern mines. His acknowledgment of me."
The ruby caught the light and shimmered mockingly.
Mark’s cufflink, adorned with its own ruby, glimmered faintly in response. He raised his wrist slightly, the red gemstone flashing as though answering Eilan’s challenge. His lips curved into a slow, dangerous smirk.
"It may be shining," Mark said softly, "but its power is nothing compared to mine."
To prove his words, he raised his hand. The ruby glowed, heat radiating outward. Flames licked across the corridor, gathering, twisting—until they burst into the form of a dragon. The fiery beast coiled protectively around Mark and Mina, its molten scales crackling with power.
The air grew heavy with heat, the very stones groaning under the force of the magic.
Eilan staggered back a step but quickly recovered, fury flashing across his face. He yanked his sword free. The ruby blazed, answering the call of his will, and fire erupted. From the flames, a great lion emerged, its mane flaring like the sun itself. It roared, claws raking the air as it stood before Eilan in a defensive stance.
The corridor shuddered under the weight of two powers.
Eilan gritted his teeth, his stance firm, sweat dripping from his brow. "Come then, brother! Let’s see which of us Father truly favors!"
But Mark did not move. He simply stood, arms folded, Mina at his side. The dragon’s blazing eyes narrowed as it lowered its massive head, exhaling a scorching gust that made the torches flicker violently.
With a deafening roar, the fire lion charged.
The dragon’s laugh echoed as its molten jaws opened wide. It struck with brutal swiftness, biting through the lion’s mane as if it were smoke. The lion shattered, flames bursting apart into nothingness.
The dragon did not stop. It surged forward, barreling toward Eilan. ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ novᴇlfire.net
Eilan roared, raising his sword desperately, ruby flaring brighter. He braced himself as the dragon crashed into him, the impact sending a shockwave down the corridor.
Eilan flew backward, his sword clattering against the stone as he slammed into the wall. He coughed violently, clutching his shoulder where the force had nearly broken bone.
The dragon loomed over him, teeth bared, preparing for another strike.
Then—Mark snapped his fingers.
At once, the flames vanished. The dragon dissolved into sparks, the heat fading into silence. Only smoke lingered in the air.
The corridor was quiet again.
Mark stood unmoved, his face bored, as if none of it mattered.
Eilan pushed himself up on trembling arms, coughing, sweat dripping from his chin. Rage burned in his eyes, but there was also a flicker of fear.
Mark walked past him without so much as a glance. But as he drew level, he stopped. Leaning close, he whispered in a voice so soft it was colder than steel:
"Dream all you want, brother. But your little anger—your little ambition—will never amount to anything. You’re just a fool playing with sparks."
He straightened, smirked faintly, and strode away, Mina falling into step beside him.
Eilan remained kneeling on the floor, silent, his hand trembling as it gripped his sword.
The corridor smelled of smoke, but the only thing burning now was his pride.