Silence had not ruled the Black Castle in centuries.

  Natural enemies sat at the same grand table — Lords of Darkness on one end, Warriors of Light on the other. The feast had been laid out in abundance, yet no one dared touch a single dish.

  Because at the head of the table, the King of Light and the Lord of Darkness were locked in a war of stares.

  Neither blinked.

  Neither yielded.

  “I am starving,” Asteria muttered under her breath. “Will you kindly ask your father to stop competing in this childish contest before we all perish of hunger?”

  Phoenix did not look away from the spectacle.

  “I would like to see who wins.

  “At this rate,” Asteria sighed, scanning the table, “we will all lose.”

  Her gaze wandered — and stopped.

  “Oh.”

  She leaned slightly toward Phoenix.

  “Who,” she whispered dramatically, “is that delicious vision seated beside the King of Light?”

  “That,” Phoenix replied without shifting her eyes, “is Solis. Prince of Light. Sun God. Strongest warrior of this era.”

  “So the rumors are true."

  Phoenix finally turned.

  “What rumors?”

  “That he is a blessing to mortal and immortal eyes alike.” Asteria pressed a hand to her chest. “I feel enlightened.”

  Phoenix rolled her eyes faintly. “You are insufferable.”

  “Oh please. You are the only being in all three realms unaware of the whispers.”

  “I do not entertain whispers.”

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “Then let me educate you.” Asteria leaned closer. “The latest messenger from the Realm of Death reported that the Devil has chosen a successor.”

  Phoenix stiffened ever so slightly.

  “Rumor claims,” Asteria continued, “he is yet another illegitimate son. Dark. Merciless. And devilishly handsome. Messy black hair. Eyes like smoking abyss.”

  Phoenix’s expression did not change.

  Asteria grinned. “I do hope he is as pleasing to the eyes as your golden prince—”

  A sharp clearing of a throat cut through the air.

  Solis had risen.

  The hall fell into pin-drop silence.

  He lifted his chalice.

  “Let us toast,” he said clearly, voice carrying across stone and shadow. “To new beginnings. To peace between realms. To harmony.”

  He paused.

  “And to the enduring love between Mother Nature and the Lord of Darkness.”

  The words struck like a blade.

  “Love?” the King of Light spat suddenly. “He did not love her. He seduced my sister into marriage.”

  The hall erupted in murmurs.

  “How dare you!” the Lord of Darkness roared, rising to his feet. “You dare reduce our bond to seduction?”

  “You knew she was my weakness,” the King growled back. “You trapped her.”

  “I loved her!” the Dark Lord thundered.

  “You took her from me!”

  “She fled your darkness!”

  “You made my child motherless!”

  Chairs scraped violently.

  Steel sang from its sheath.

  The Dark Lord summoned his flaming black blade. The Warriors of Light mirrored the movement in a flash of silver.

  Phoenix remained seated.

  Solis stood frozen between two storms.

  “Remember,” the Dark Lord said coldly, “you stand in my castle.”

  “And you stand before my army,” the King returned.

  The air thickened with killing intent.

  Then—

  A thunderous crash echoed through the hall.

  Solis had slammed both hands onto the table.

  “Enough!”

  His voice was no longer gentle sunlight.

  It was burning noon.

  “I came to offer peace,” he roared, “not to witness another war born of wounded pride!”

  Silence.

  Absolute.

  “If any blade rises again,” he continued, eyes blazing, “it will answer to me.”

  The warriors hesitated.

  “I command the Warriors of Light,” Solis said, voice cold as law, “lower your swords. Now.”

  They obeyed instantly.

  Even the King of Light hesitated — then slowly returned to his seat.

  Solis turned.

  “Father.”

  One word.

  The King lowered his gaze.

  Then Solis looked to Phoenix.

  She was staring at him — not with mockery now, but astonishment.

  Without breaking eye contact, she rose.

  She turned to the Lords of Darkness.

  “Sit.”

  Her voice was quiet.

  But power thundered beneath it.

  Every Lord sat.

  Even her father.

  The hall stilled.

  Solis inclined his head slightly toward her — a silent thank you.

  Then he lifted his chalice again.

  “I am disappointed,” he said calmly now. “Humans tear the world apart. Evil spreads unchecked. And we — sworn guardians of balance — fight each other.”

  His voice softened.

  “If you loved her… prove it.”

  He closed his eyes briefly, steadying himself.

  Then raised the chalice high.

  “In the name of the Almighty — for Mother Nature, we fight.”

  A beat.

  Then—

  “For Mother Nature, we fight!” roared the hall in unison.

  And for the first time that night, the feast began.