Several days have passed since my birthday.

I walked discontentedly around the chamber, wearing nothing but silk trousers. Half-naked, I wandered the room and shook my head vehemently. I ignored the large bed in shades of black as well as the comfortable sofa facing the balcony, from where there was a perfect view of the night sky filled with radiant stars.

I should sleep. The sun had long since set and the night had fully spread out. Yet for the past few months, I have not closed my eyes for a single day. I was operating non-stop and it was beginning to take its toll on my mental state. My mind was restless, constantly wandering and demanding rest. I could not silence that whirlwind of thoughts. I was always expecting catastrophe.

I did not agree with my father's command. He wanted me to do nothing, not get my hands dirty, and play the role of an impartial observer. But that was impossible for me. I was unable to rest. The mere thought of lying down and passively waiting for everything to crumble into chaos exhausted me more than the work itself.

I was used to solving problems immediately. At the very onset, I sought out those fools who dared to break the rules or even considered deposing my father from the throne.

I turned to my father's portrait, which had always hung on the wall. I gazed upon his flawless face. My problem was that I could not bypass the ruler. That was impossible. I did not have permission to plan behind his back and act. If he were to find out, it could jeopardize my claim to the throne. Darlek would seize any opportunity to replace me as the successor.

"Do not falter!" I ordered myself to stay put and wait. The luminous prophecy was false... at least one worry less. But those who schemed behind our backs were very real. They were still recruiting angels, whom I could protect from doom.

I turned my gaze away from the portrait and focused it on my reflection in the mirror. My appearance was otherworldly, befitting a crown prince. However, my eyes revealed something else – exhaustion that even a thousand-year sleep would not banish.

I had long realized the cruel truth: I cannot endure being alone with myself. Every second alone in these chambers was unbearable. Just contemplating my life caused a sharp stabbing pain in my chest.

I did not lie to the traitor – I had nothing that I cared about. My life revolved solely around me. Everything else was easily replaceable. This chamber? I could have a thousand similar ones. Family? I would hardly notice if it disappeared. Friends? They were merely servants, whom I replaced without hesitation. And possessions? Any treasures of the world held no value for me. The only thing that truly concerned me was to keep my throne and ensure that no one surpassed me.

I stood on the balcony and breathed in the cold air when I noticed a familiar angel in the sky. He was quickly approaching in heavy armor, and even from a distance, it was evident that he was requesting permission to land. I nodded and waved him closer.

A man with long gray wings swooped sharply onto the balcony. His scarred face was intimately familiar to me – I had often made use of it myself. His disheveled brown hair, greasily clinging to his face, and his unkempt beard revealed that he hadn’t even had time to wash. He headed straight for me.

"Nate, I hope you have brought me something interesting!" I addressed him as his wings disappeared. He bowed deeply, clasping his hands in front of his chest as a sign of respect.

"Rise!" I ordered, and he immediately obeyed. He straightened to his full height, a head taller than I was.

If I ever had a right-hand man, it was Nate. He alone had access to my chambers and knew my secrets. He commanded my underground guard of spies and knew everything that I knew. He was the man to whom I would entrust my very life.

Perhaps I was mistaken. If there was ever someone in my life who was irreplaceable, it was him.

"My prince, I have come to inform you..." he began, but with a wave of my hand, I silenced him.

"Come downstairs!" I was the first to enter the chamber, and Nate followed me. His tired face revealed that he had had a long day. I gestured toward the sofa for him to sit.

"I’m all ears," I urged him to continue.

"Which would you like to hear about first? Your brother or Terravorn?"

"Brother," I decided without hesitation. Terravorn could wait... Darlek could not.

"As you commanded, we are still monitoring him. The same scenario repeats itself. His spies move ceaselessly between worlds. They rotate every week. A group of four men always disappears, only to return on Sunday evening and report directly to the prince."

So far, nothing new.

"Were you able to infiltrate him?" I asked.

Nate shook his head. "A few of our men managed to get closer, but none gained his trust enough to be sent. What his men do must be extraordinarily important. He sends only those who have been by his side for more than three hundred years. No one else has access to the information."

Why did Darlek send his loyal men into foreign worlds?

"Continue with the attempts," I ordered.

"Of course."

"It is certain, however, that his men have not yet been successful. Perhaps they are returning empty-handed," I mused aloud. The constant rotation and dispatching of a small group suggested to me that he was searching for something, rather than building it.

"We do not know his intentions, but we should prepare," Nate said as he leaned back comfortably. He closed his eyes for a moment, but opened them immediately when I nodded.

"You're right," I admitted. "It’s time to remind the little brother that he will always be second. Even if he acquires something, I will take it from him. He will live only by my grace!"

As if reading my thoughts, Nate asked directly, "Which one?"

I liked how easily he understood me. I didn't have to say a word, yet he knew exactly what I meant.

And yet I thought to myself—one day, maybe one day, I will have to kill Nate.

But not today.

I pondered. Should it be the first? Or perhaps somewhere in the middle? Hmm... it would be best to have him be the last!" I decided after a moment of hesitation.

Nate nodded. "Will you prepare for his reaction?"

"Of course. Leave that to me. Take care of the last one and leave the brother to me."

That’s how it was done—I eliminated problems before they could grow. Darlek was naive if he thought that any treasure he found could stop me.

"What about Terravorn? Do we have any news?" I asked.

"Not much," Nate replied, nodding. "They are cautious. After we uncovered one of their so-called kings and you got rid of him, they have been careful about who they let among them. In recent days, they even halted the hunt for wingless angels. They usually don’t even leave their homes—as if they were waiting for our move."

"Victims?"

"We haven’t found any new ones," Nate shook his head. "But I looked into that man, whom that dead traitor painted—Edward Dalenau. Relatively young, he’s about fifty years old and has been a member of Terravorn his entire life. The locals call him 'the scientist'—apparently, he was always a weirdo who stayed on his estate. That estate is surrounded by the Silent Forest and protected by a strong magical shield. Yet he does not seem like someone with significant power. He looks more like a solitary experimenter."

"The traitor claimed that he is trying to control the darkness. That is not harmless to us," I objected.

"However, there is no trace in his surroundings that would indicate progress. I took care to investigate. I found nothing that we should be afraid of."

I frowned. The very attempt to control something that was reserved solely for the royals was a serious crime punishable by death. Our power was different from ordinary magic. It left traces that could be reused. In the wrong hands, it could cause a catastrophe.

"If he hasn’t succeeded so far, he probably never will," Nate continued. "Such attempts always leave consequences. If he continues trying to control the darkness, he must have long since lost his mind."

In that, he was right. Those who longed to acquire forbidden power often ended up as puppets. If Dalenau indeed continued despite his failures, he must be nothing but a shadow of the man he once was.

"So you claim that he is harmless and not worth wasting time on," I concluded.

"I am firmly convinced of that, my prince. There is no point in destroying someone who is already destroying himself. We must focus on wiser adversaries."

Despite his logic, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Nate wanted to move on, but I wasn’t ready yet. "Dalenau... shouldn’t that mean something to me? You say he owns an estate?" I asked.

Nate was not surprised that I was being thorough. Without hesitation, he continued, "His seat is so remote that our men do not normally patrol there. It falls under your brother's control. The Dalenau family has served Terravorn for centuries. They have owned the estate for over five hundred years, constantly passed down from generation to generation."

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They owned an estate, but they were not part of the nobility—noble families were exceedingly rare.

"Does he have any offspring who might cause us problems? Father might be crazy, but sometimes children are not."

It wouldn’t be the first time that my troubles were caused more by the children than by the parent. The young often mistakenly believed they were invincible and capable of overthrowing our rule. If he were to pass something on to someone more capable, it could represent a threat.

"As for his family, there are no records indicating that he has children. If he does have any, they must be thoroughly hidden. However, he is married, so the possibility of offspring exists."

"What about his wife?" I asked.

"No one has seen her in years. She might be dead. When she appeared at a gathering of her territory years ago, she didn’t look well. Even then, she was considered a weirdo. No one misses her and no one is looking for her."

"I won’t send spies because of him. As long as Dalenau keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t attract attention, we’ll leave him alone."

Nate nodded in agreement. "He isn’t worth your attention, my prince. If he ever becomes a problem, I will take care of it personally, but I don't think it will be necessary."

"Any further news?"

Nate shook his head. However, he noticed my slightly disappointed expression and quickly added, "You can count on us. Nothing will escape our notice. If something happens, you will be the first to know."

"Alright, continue your work. Now go and rest—you deserve it."

"You too, my prince," he replied, standing up and bowing deeply once more. "If you need anything, call me. I will be right by your side." Without another word, he left the room, leaving me immersed in my own thoughts.

I was left alone and looked at the bed. It appeared cozy, almost inviting… what nonsense! It was just a piece of furniture. So why did the very thought of lying down terrify me deep in my soul?

I wasn’t afraid of the bed, but the idea of closing my eyes, plunging into unconsciousness, and becoming vulnerable.

What if something went wrong while I was asleep?

Just like many previous nights, I did not close my eyes that night either. And for the following seven nights, I still could not force myself to rest.

* * *

After a long time, I felt the urge to sleep. I ate a hearty dinner, spoke with my father’s counselors, walked around the castle, and greeted the subjects. I felt the weight of fatigue overtaking me, and on my way back to the chamber, I could barely keep my eyes open.

Everything was in order. Nate had everything under control, Darlek kept a low profile, my father was no longer issuing new orders, and finally, I could move freely around Noxalor without any obstacles. I even spent a pleasant morning with my sister. I hadn’t been this content in a long time.

I opened the door to my chamber and closed it firmly behind me. As soon as I was enclosed by four walls, I slumped down and allowed my eyes to close. My body finally relaxed. I slightly weakened my hold on the power, and the room sank into darkness.

I threw my clothes on the floor. Naked, I walked over to the bed and pulled from under the pillow the black pajamas that the servants always carefully prepared for me, even though I rarely wore them. I caught a whiff of herbs.

I lay down on the bed and felt a sense of peace. The room was warm, yet outside a storm raged. With a wave of my hand, I opened the balcony door to let fresh, cool air into the room. The disobedient wind fluttered the curtains and knocked aside the light cloth under which I had hidden a gift from Darlek.

I looked at the mirror. It reflected a room that was somewhat old, but at least clean.

Yet no one was there. The red-haired girl with a bruise on her face, whom I had seen in it before, had vanished.

I quickly sat up, swung my legs onto the cold floor, and stood. I walked over to the mirror to get a better look. Perhaps she was hiding in a corner?

No.

I thought that the mirror would always show her whenever I requested it. It never occurred to me that it might only reflect an empty room.

This time only a few details had changed. The bed was unmade, a shirt hung on the chair, and a pair of scattered shoes lay on the floor. Everything indicated that she had been abruptly awakened from sleep and had hurried off somewhere.

It infuriated me! I wanted to see her! Why wouldn’t that stupid mirror show me what I wanted? Useless clutter that deserved to be reduced to rubble! I like irreplaceable treasures, not broken, worthless things!

I cursed, but the reflection remained unchanged. I immediately dismissed the bed from my thoughts. Suddenly, I was no longer tired; all the drowsiness had vanished. I trembled with anger.

Where the hell were you?! Such a young girl should have been asleep long ago! Unlike me, you must sleep every day, you fool!

There was nothing left of the peaceful evening. Was I so stupid as to think that everything was alright? The world would stop without me, and everyone would perish! If I closed my eyes, I would wake up to total disaster!

I turned away from the mirror, strode to the door, and flung it open forcefully. I nearly ripped it off its hinges as I shouted, "Bring me CALMING TEA immediately!"

I slammed the door behind me and looked at the mirror again. She still wasn’t there.

I strode quickly toward the balcony. The night sky was dark, filled with clouds that were occasionally illuminated by lightning. Below, I could see several men on patrol who, despite the dreadful weather, never ceased guarding the castle.

Should I call Nate? No, he wouldn’t help me anyway. Clutter remains clutter.

In a moment, a maid returned with a tray bearing a teapot and a cup. She placed them on the table and, after my curt permission, disappeared as quickly as she had come.

I sat before the mirror, poured myself some tea, and sipped slowly. Yet not even an entire teapot could bring me peace. Instead, an even greater dissatisfaction grew within me. Which idiot called this a calming tea?!

Throughout the night, I kept checking the mirror, but nothing moved in that room. Not the slightest hint that she was there. The darkness gradually receded, and soon the sun was to appear in the sky.

“What if something happened to her? Perhaps she needed my help. It was utterly foolish of me to even consider such a thing, but if she did not appear by dawn, I was determined to go and look for her. I couldn’t take any risks. If she was important to me, I needed to know why. I certainly did not intend to let her die before she had served me.

I didn’t have to wait long.

Losiela returned at five in the morning. Her completely limp body appeared in the mirror. What had become of her over the week? Her face was much more swollen—fresh bruises shone on it. She winced and whimpered in pain. Her clothes were dirty, and it looked as if she didn’t even have the strength to remove them.

Who dared to assault my future servant? Anger surged through me, and the magic in the room exploded. The windows trembled, the flames in the fireplace leaped up, and the candles flared violently. For a few seconds, I lost control.

She kicked off her shoes and, utterly exhausted, collapsed onto the bed. She whimpered in pain as she reached for a little trinket, which she clutched tightly, and began trembling uncontrollably. Her shivering soon escalated into convulsive shaking, and eventually, she burst into tears.

The anger that had been filling me evaporated.

It was not natural for me to see weeping girls. None before me was ever allowed to cry.

Did she have to whine like that? Father would have struck her over the head, and she would have quieted immediately.

She stopped crying and, it seemed, fell unconscious.

My heart stopped for a moment. In that moment, I knew only one thing—I could not leave her there.

If she was meant to serve me, I needed her whole and intact.

With a single gesture, darkness surged from my hand, traveling at the speed of light from my kingdom to her room. It found her without difficulty, and I saw in the mirror as it enveloped her entire body and drew her into its embrace.

When it vanished from her room, I stepped into the space where an ordinary angel could not go.

I found myself in the depths of my own essence, in a place where nothing existed—only me and my power.

Losiela was the first I took there. I allowed her to see just how far my power reaches.

There was no gravity here.

I saw her. In the distance, she was descending with her head bowed, eyes closed, and her limbs hung limply at her sides. I knew that she had not yet regained consciousness, which was fortunate. I had no idea how I would explain to her where she was. Though I saw perfectly well here, the emptiness of this void would have terrified her to death.

For a moment, a disturbing thought flashed through my mind: What if she wakes up and is afraid of the darkness?

Before I could stop myself, I moved my left hand and conjured several blue flashes that began to circle around her body, illuminating at least a portion of the space. Had she tried it herself, nothing would have happened. Her own power would not have allowed her to create any fissures in it, but she obeyed me.

Slowly, she began to regain consciousness, and a soft sob escaped her throat.

I slowed her pulse and commanded my power to lull her back to sleep. She obeyed immediately—Losiela stopped sobbing and fell into a deep slumber. Only then did I dare to approach and examine her closely.

At first, I simply stood and studied her features. She was pale—almost unnaturally so. Her body was emaciated and ravaged. I couldn’t resist the urge and stroked her cheek. I expected it to be cold, but her skin was hot, nearly burning me. My power reacted—as if on its own. Gentle shadows began to caress her red hair and examine her. They moved from her hair down her body, conveying their reports to me.

She was in a dire state.

Bruised, with three broken fingers, a fractured rib, shattered knees, and a sprained ankle.

How had she even managed to get into her room on her own?

Curiosity would not leave me. I spoke with the power and inquired what had happened to her. It whispered that Losiela had fallen from great heights many times.

Suddenly, a thought struck me.

I wanted to verify if I was right. Sliding my hand beneath her tunic, I touched her back. Immediately, I felt pressure—evidence that Losiela had failed to summon her wings. Either she had attempted to learn it on her own, or someone had taught her in such a drastic way that they were throwing her from heights to force her into action.

Losiela—the one I was supposedly in need of—was an angel without wings. A forbidden cult would have flayed her alive.

Anger surged through me once more.

Had they tortured her? I recalled her earlier whispered claim that she could not be broken. I had to exert tremendous effort not to reveal myself and to immediately go discover who had done this to her. How could that tyrant hide away if, before him, stood the crown prince, ready to crush him?

I placed my hands on her bare body and began to slowly heal her—not too thoroughly. I had not healed an ordinary angel for hundreds of years. I had no reason to; I did not require healing magic, for I was invulnerable.

I still set her broken bones and helped with her ankle. However, I deliberately did not touch her bruises. What would she think if she were miraculously healed? I did not want her to know that I had been there. I only healed what caused her the greatest pain, but I left the marks.

I stroked her pale cheek. She looked so unremarkable, almost boring. In the corridors, I encountered hundreds of women like her, and dozens of others who wouldn’t even have their ankles touched. I felt no power in her. How could someone so insignificant be important to me?

I sighed aloud and waved my hand.

Only when I was convinced that I could do nothing more for her and that she was no longer in danger did I release her from the darkness. I withdrew myself and found myself once again in my chambers, standing before the mirror.

She lay there exactly as before, but now her breathing was regular and her body no longer writhed in pain.

She slept. So effortlessly, as if it required no exertion at all. Looking at her, one might believe that sleeping is that simple. She had hidden herself in the realm of dreams—a place forbidden for me to enter.

I frowned. For a moment, I envied her.

I searched her room, trying to find something that would reveal more about her. I was already familiar with the furniture, but I looked for details—something that might hint at who she really was.

After a while, I lost interest. It was just the room of a pubescent girl—nothing exceptional. But when I looked at her again, a little higher up, I noticed something peculiar.

On the wooden bed frame, letters were engraved.

Usually, they were names that meant nothing to me, but one word immediately caught my attention—DALENAU.

Why Dalenau?

In that moment, everything I had thought about her until now changed. She was no longer just a girl who might sometimes be useful to me. In an instant, I began to regard her as a threat.

Losiela Dalenau.

I had no inkling of what connection she might have with the mad scientist who served Terravorn.

Judging by her injuries, I began to think that she might be his daughter. Her age fit, and she bore injuries all over her body that a normal parent would not have inflicted. But if she were the daughter of a man who murdered incomplete angels, she must have had divine luck to still be alive.

I immediately knew that I had to speak with Nate.

What if it was all part of Darlek’s conspiracy? Perhaps some pitiful attempt to threaten me?

I understood nothing, yet a part of me screamed that I had to kill her.

If Darlek knew about her, then for my safety she must not remain alive.