The ring weighed heavier than it looked.
Kaelen turned it in his hand over and over, feeling its cold surface press against his skin—each groove in the iron like a scar long forgotten by history. He hadn't worn it yet.
Not because he feared the Unnamed.
But because once it was on, he knew:
There'd be no going back.
Morning came with a summons.
Not a letter this time—but two guards dressed in dark red, bearing the Vire crest on their shoulders.
"Lady Eirell requests your presence," one said, eyes like stone.
Kaelen said nothing.
He pocketed the ring… and followed.
Eirell's private quarters were unlike any other in the palace.
No grand columns. No velvet chairs.
Only a single wide window facing the western cliffs, and rows of books that hadn't been dusted in years. A steel sword rested against a desk littered with scrolls and unfinished maps.
Eirell stood by the fire, arms folded.
"You were seen in the lower wings," she said without turning.
Kaelen stayed silent.
"A place where the servants don't even go anymore," she continued. "A place people like you don't survive alone."
He stepped closer. "I was following a memory."
Eirell turned. Her eyes scanned his face, sharp as ever.
"No," she said. "You were making a choice. I just want to know… which side you chose."
Kaelen met her gaze.
And lied.
"Yours."
A long silence stretched between them.
Then she walked to the desk, picked up a scroll, and handed it to him.
"What's this?" he asked.
"An offer," she said. "One that makes your choice permanent."
He unrolled the parchment. A list of names. All minor nobles. All marked with a single word beside them:
Expendable.
Kaelen frowned. "Assassins?"
"No," she said. "Liabilities. Enemies of House Vire. If you want to be more than a shadow… prove your worth."
He looked at the names again. At the ink that had already chosen their fate.
"This isn't politics," he said. "It's a purge."
Eirell smiled faintly. "Welcome to court."
That night, Kaelen stood by the fountain in the garden of broken kings—where no one listened and no one dared to follow.
He looked at the scroll again.
Then pulled out the black iron ring.
Slowly… he slipped it onto his finger.
Later, in the moonlight, Kaelen returned to his chamber and burned the scroll.
Not because he wouldn't act on it.
But because he would act on his terms—And no one else's.
Not Eirell.Not the Unnamed.Not even fate.