"Little Nightling, do you want to live?"

"I have learned many things from humans. Among them, I learned to be selfish."

"Then you do not wish to die?"

She understood his silence and patiently waited for him to muster his reply.

"The curse keeps me alive no matter what I do." He put it bluntly.

"Then what happens when you somehow regain your power and the curse no longer restrains you psyche? What then?" She continued circling around the prince.

Her black gown as dark as the starless sky of Abyss flowed like smoke and sea waves. Free and unbound in the wind. He did not answer her, and she understood it.

"See? You're a paradox. A paradox indeed."

A deal commenced and bounded the two of them in the words they've vowed.

"I won't ask how you'll regain your strength or even something remotely close to it, it doesn't matter. I do must remind you that if you break this…deal, as you call it, your core will explode. As with mine if I go against my word."

"Slit her throat." He paused for a while a gripped the dagger, feeling a nauseating pain in his temples. He noticeably staggered before regaining his footing and going in for a clean cut. He could feel his consciousness floating. A wave of memories surged after another, and then abruptly repressed like a bubble. It continued as he stood in a tense situation. He swore he heard his own voice whispering to his ears mockingly.

The feeling of red blood drenching his pearlescent skin made his hands tremble and drop the dagger—as if he found what he'd done extremely repulsive.

"Eli…?"

He collapsed so suddenly, hesitantly reaching the maid's fallen corpse now disappearing into dust. A wave of mist surrounded the floor as the Lord's seneschal willed a spell and conjured what seemed like round ram horns and black iridescent wings. It looked uncannily like Kaisellin's, except it was fake.

"Sorry..."

Navier's usual upbringing that was always held so purposefully slowly fell apart as she stood frozen in place.

"I'm sorry Eli…" He mumbled.

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"I'm sorry…what's…what's going on?"

"What…what did I just do? What did you made me do?"

"Your Majesty…" Her seneschal mumbled softly.

The torrent of pleas became exceedingly loud that it started to echo in the grand chamber. Navier furrowed her brows covered by the veil.

"…"

♦️♦️♦️

The moon's crimson light shone brighter than the usual endless nights. The high ministers and nobles alike kneeled in place, chanting the same lines and pleading the same pleas. And, amidst the bickering petitioners was a chilling female voice delivering an order.

"Open the front gates."

Finally, the horned guards clad in full armor, who were standing like statues the whole time, slowly moved uniformly. They were silenced as they stared dumbfounded, looking straight at the guards' every move.

As if answering their ardent pleas, the front gates of the palace had finally opened after a long month of protesting. Like a hungry pack, they rushed in, forgetting whatever etiquette and dignity they've fostered for centuries.

They were soon left agape of what they'd witnessed; standing gloriously beneath the throne room was the great Mother of Abyss, holding down a kneeling boy with pale pearlescent skin and glistening silver hair, whose body was riddled in scars. They immediately recognized him to be the prince they'd been pleading to be executed. She held a giant scythe exuding an eerie haze blacker than the blackest nights of Abyss. It was cold and dreadful, very well suiting the epitome of a weapon carved from death.

As if complimenting the prince's appearance, he was covered in gilded blood. Their eyes drifted to the scattered gold spots on the marble floor, leading to the horns and cleanly cut wings with feathers scattered about.

They soon recovered themselves and went on to their respective positions, lining up at the sides of the throne room and splitting according to their factions. Of the 6 gathered Heads in the throne room, along with the other nobility, one particular spot seemed desolately empty. Some would steal a glance at it from time to time, careful not to worsen the Lord's rather sour atmosphere.

It belonged to the now fallen Sloth House, infamous for its rebellion half a decade ago. The very prince they wanted to be eliminated was known to be the only one left of the Sloth bloodline.

"See for yourself how I've delivered my punishment."

Everyone there knew that decapitation wasn't what they wanted, it was soul execution; the destruction of the psyche. They wanted to nip the bud completely. Rather, they felt uncomfortable being welcomed by a beautifully grotesque scene in such noble grounds.

"We plead that you do not show him mercy as a ruler, Your Majesty."

"Do not dare to warn me, Wrath. Do not dare to lecture me either."

"How could I do such an impudent thing in your presence? However, don't your loyal subjects have the right to know why a traitor's direct descendant is pardoned of soul execution?"

"Fair enough. This boy cannot be killed."

"I'm afraid I'm not following—?"

Navier snapped her fingers; its crisp sound was enough to silence the crowd.

"Hear thy creed!"

Rigel, the Lord's seneschal, swiftly unrolled a scroll and declared the Lord's order.

"On this year 413, under the witness of the 29th night of the crimson moonlight, I, the 3rd Ruler of Abyss, hereby sentence Prince Kaisellin—"

Navier held her scythe and angled it in precise control, before making a clean swing to cut Kaisellin's head. However, instead of slicing it, the blade went through like a sharp, inky mist.

"Mayhem." She coldly mouthed.

For a moment, the ancient palace was cleaved in half, along with the stretching horizon beyond it. It seemed like a bug—a discordance, had seeped into the boundaries of time and perhaps beyond it. The space itself, the reality interwoven in mana and existence, seemed to form an incorporeal crack after being sliced. For a brief moment, incandescent lights of this cracked space oozed into the surroundings and vanished back to normal as if nothing happened.

"—to exile in the Erebus region." the Heads stood frozen in silent terror. They couldn't even dare tremble in her presence.

"I do request you to do the impossible. Please sever the time loop completely. Please let this be my last turn."

In his neck appeared wine red runes of diamond shaped stars, surrounding it like a painful choker. As it glowed, Kaisellin whimpered and tried to grab onto it, wriggling and grunting in pain. He barely mustered an audible whisper.

"…It hurts—"

"As the current beholder of the honorary title 'Prophet of Eternal Rest', he shall be pardoned for the sins his father has committed. The last name of Solitaire, representing the House of Sloth, will be erased from his name in the official registry's Sorenian records."

"The Sloth House's bloodline shall be no longer."

"However, should he prove his worth by accumulating noteworthy achievements before his coming-of-age ceremony, his status as an Adonis shall be restored, and he shall be made a Grand Prince, the 8th child of the former Lord Samael."

An uproar dominated the room.