Viridian was dead.
The snow hadn't yet melted when the mansion erupted into chaos. The corridors that once echoed with hushed pleasantries now trembled under the weight of panicked footsteps, and the air—still cold, still winter—was thick with suspicion. Whispers moved faster than the servants did. Eyes darted, glances sharpened. Everyone wore fear like perfume.
Rossain, now the acting overseer of the Helios Estate, arrived with frost still clinging to his cloak. His presence was deliberate, each step a statement of control. The gates shut with a groan behind him—the lock clicking like the clang of finality. No one leaves. No one enters. Until the truth surfaces, the mansion would be a cage of its own making.
"Begin the search," he ordered, not shouting, just cold. As though shouting was beneath him—and his quiet, somehow, more terrifying.
The guards moved with practiced precision. They questioned everyone. Chambers were opened, drawers rifled through, sheets turned over. There was no corner too sacred, no name too clean.
And then—
"L-Lira," a hesitant voice cracked out. One of the junior guards. "She's been preparing the Marquess's meals."
All attention swiveled.
Lira stood frozen. She looked as if the breath had been stolen straight from her lungs. Her apron, slightly soiled with flour and herbs, fluttered in the hallway's draft.
"No! I haven't done anything to the food! You can check the manor kitchen, it's all there—" Her voice broke, desperation folding into the syllables.
Two guards grabbed her arms. She didn't resist. But her eyes scanned the hall, searching.
"Let's hear to that," Rossain said coolly, folding his hands behind his back, his gaze settling on her as if she were nothing more than a dish gone sour.
Raizen watched in silence.
No—more like shock. His head rang. Lira? He'd been there. He was there. Wasn't he?
"They won't find anything in Lira's kitchen," he whispered. His voice trembled.
Kezess, the ever-present silence within him, said nothing.
Rossain moved closer. Lira tried to speak again, but before her voice could rise, a slap echoed through the hall. Her cheek reddened immediately, and her hair fell to one side.
Raizen's voice cracked. "W-what are you doing!? Lira wouldn't—she wouldn't—"
Rossain turned slowly. His eyes gleamed with something unreadable.
"Do you have any evidence it wasn't her?" His voice was calm, gentle even, like someone addressing a child. "Even if what you're saying is true, do you think you're capable of proving it?"
Raizen's mouth opened. Nothing came out.
Rossain tilted his head. "Thought so."
He turned around.
Raizen's voice faltered. "B-but I—"
He met Lira's eyes. She didn't cry. She just looked at him—softly, like a mother watching her child try to lift something far too heavy.
Raizen looked away.
Teriel stood at the staircase, unmoving. Her lips curled into something between a smile and a sneer, but her eyes remained glassy, devoid of light.
Ryan stood nearby. He looked like he wanted to scream—but even his horror had nowhere to go.
Raizen's voice cracked, barely a whisper. "They'll frame anyone… even people who have nothing to do with this damn place."
No one answered.
Far below, beneath the East Wing—beyond the cellars and past the black-bricked passage where the torches flickered against the damp walls—the shard in the basement rumbled.
A low sound. A growl.
Raizen's head throbbed.
His eyes, unseen in that moment, darkened. Crimson bled into the whites.
Guards returned with Lira's husband—Ricardo. His hands were bound. His clothes were disheveled, and there was a bruise forming beneath his eye.
"What's the meaning of this?!" Ricardo demanded. "I've done nothing wrong!"
Rossain didn't reply. He merely signaled, and the couple was dragged down—deep into the basement. Past the kitchen. Past the stables. Past even the wine cellars, to where the cold was bone-deep.
Raizen followed.
He stood outside their cell.
Ricardo sat beside Lira. They held hands.
"Don't blame yourself, Raizen," Ricardo said, his voice quiet, steady.
Raizen gripped the bars.
"How can I not? I... I couldn't even raise my voice... I just—watched."
Lira gave him a small smile.
"You couldn't control it. None of this was ever yours to control."
She looked beyond him. The cold breath misted from her lips.
Raizen wanted to scream.
The shard pulsed again. A violent surge that sent tiny tremors through the floor.
He staggered.
He left the basement. He needed air.
---
Night fell hard. Snow blanketed the garden, and the once-elegant Helios Manor now looked like a mausoleum dressed in frost. The windows burned with light, but none of it was warm.
Raizen stood in the courtyard. A sword in his hand. It trembled as he did.
He trained. Alone. Long after midnight.
His blade arced through the air, slicing through snowflakes. Each strike was faster than the last. More desperate. His breath fogged around him like ghosts whispering in protest.
He fell to one knee.
Then rose.
Again.
In the kitchen, untouched by chaos, Lira's stew still simmered in a pot. A small fire. An aroma of lentils and thyme. Lira had started it before the world fell apart. She hadn't turned off the stove. And no one else dared enter.
A maid wandered past it but stopped short. She stared at the bubbling broth. Then silently closed the door.
---
Rossain stood in the study.
He looked over old documents. Family histories. Titles and land claims. Letters. Seals. One letter bore a strange mark—an ancient one—faintly resembling the same sigil carved into the shard below.
He touched it with his gloved hand. A faint rumble passed through the floor.
Rossain smirked.
"It begins."
---
Raizen returned to the basement the next day.
Ricardo slept. Lira sat upright.
"They haven't fed you," Raizen muttered.
She nodded slowly.
He passed a piece of bread through the bars.
She hesitated. Then took it.
"Thank you."
He sat on the floor across from them.
"Why you?" he asked.
She stared for a moment. Then looked up at the ceiling.
"Because it had to be someone. And someone close makes for a better show."
Raizen clenched his fists.
"If I had power, I'd burn this whole estate down."
Lira whispered something solemnly.
Raizen looked at her.
Below them, the shard pulsed. The floor beneath Raizen's feet tingled. The edges of his vision blurred for a moment. Something—someone—whispered.
He didn't understand the words.
But the feeling was clear:
This wasn't the end.
It was just the start of something far, far worse.