The following day, inside the grand palace of the Drakethorne ducal house, everything returned to normal. The grand hall had been restored to its usual state, with all the decorations removed. The gate, once adorned with expensive linen, now stood in its original, simple form.

  Maids and servants worked through the night to clear away the decorations and ensure every corner was spotless.

  That morning, Shane Drakethorne, the grand duke of Drakethorne House, sat in his private study. Across from him sat his father, Ragnar Drakethorne, and his mother, Nyra Blackheart.

  The room was empty except for the three of them. Tension filled the air, making the atmosphere even more uncomfortable.

  For the past half hour, they had been discussing the events that transpired the day before.

  They ended the banquet as soon as Alex was taken to his private chamber to rest. Morgana Chronveil, a paragon-ranked warrior, had lost consciousness immediately after holding Alex’s hand and was reduced to a pathetic self.

  Not wanting anyone to witness more than they already had, they brought the banquet to a close. The gifts had already been exchanged and the celebration was nearly over, so the guests were promptly escorted to their carriages.

  Shane Drakethorne could still recall the rumors and whispers he overheard as he bid everyone farewell.

  Shock was clear in the eyes of those present. Even seasoned veterans and powerful figures seemed unsettled to see Morgana Chronveil, matriarch of one of the four grand ducal houses, trembling in her chair before collapsing into unconsciousness.

  “Hah, I can’t even imagine the rumours that must be spreading at this moment,” Shane Drakethorne said, shaking his head.

  “You’re right. People are surely concocting stories, and it would not be surprising if they start calling Alex a threat,” Ragnar Drakethorne said, his voice heavy with concern as he remembered the events at the banquet. He could not fathom how Morgana Chronveil had been reduced to such a state. Although she was not yet his equal, she was still a force to be reckoned with.

  Nyra Blackheart took a sip from her teacup and nodded, lost in thought about the previous night.

  “This is out of control now. Who could have predicted any of this? We still have no idea what truly happened, since Morgana is still unconscious. We can only hope she wakes soon and explains it to us,” Nyra Blackheart said, taking another sip of tea.

  “We can ask Morgana what happened once she wakes up, but what about Alex’s betrothal to the Emperor’s daughter?” Shane Drakethorne asked, glancing at his father, who seemed deep in thought.

  Nyra Blackheart set her teacup down, her expression turning serious.

  Ragnar Drakethorne was about to speak, but his wife interrupted him.

  “I do not know what the Emperor is planning, but I am certain it cannot be good,” Nyra Blackheart murmured.

  Ragnar Drakethorne, determined not to be interrupted again, said, “No one truly knows what goes on in his mind. When he was young, no one imagined he would become Emperor. He was a free-spirited child, but one day he changed, almost as if someone else had taken over his body.”

  Ragnar remembered how the Emperor used to be—a carefree child, unconcerned with politics and happy in his own little world.

  “I do not understand why the Emperor would give Alex the option to cancel the marriage if he truly wanted it to happen,” Shane Drakethorne said, frustration clear in his voice. “He even invoked that ancient promise—he could have used it to ask for anything. How dare he try to bind my son to this marriage without his consent?” His eyes flashed with anger.

  Unconsciously, Shane Drakethorne released his paragon rank aura, and Ragnar quickly used his own power to prevent it from disturbing the table or the bookshelves nearby.

  “You need to steady yourself, son. I know you are angry,” Ragnar Drakethorne said quietly, his voice rough with the effort to remain calm. “We may never know why Alex was given the chance to refuse this marriage, but we should be grateful that his wishes matter and it will not happen if he does not want it.” Ragnar’s fierce red eyes met his son’s, whose black eyes burned with barely contained fury. “Let it go, and control yourself.”

  Realizing what he had done, Shane reined in his aura. He was still adjusting to his new abilities and needed more time to master them.

  Ragnar began advising Shane on how important it was to stabilize himself in the paragon rank quickly, warning that delays could jeopardize his future goals. He shared his own experience and offered guidance, but was interrupted by a voice from the knight standing guard outside the door. “Your Grace, Lady Morgana Chronveil has awakened.”

  All three immediately stood up, eager to learn what had happened the previous day.

  - - - - - -

  Inside the private chambers of Alex Drakethorne.

  Every child in the Drakethorne House was given their own private chambers. At night, servants and maids cared for the children, while during the day, their parents would look after them whenever possible.

  But Sera Azurestorm and Shane Drakethorne were different from the previous generation; they had placed one bed in Alex’s chamber and would sleep in Alex’s private chamber, and would look after their son day and night.

  Especially Sera Azurestorm, the current duchess and Alex's mother, would never leave her son alone for an entire day.

  At that moment, Sera was singing a lullaby to her son, who slept peacefully in his bassinet surrounded by magical toys that played gentle melodies.

  A soft knock sounded at the door. Sera Azurestorm called, "Come in."

  A maid in her twenties entered, bowed respectfully, and announced, “My lady, Lady Morgana Chronveil has awakened.”

  Sera Azurestorm gently stroked Alex’s cheek. “Sleep for now, my baby. Your mother will be back soon.”

  She looked at her son one last time, stood, and made her way to the room where Morgana Chronveil was staying.