The sun had long set, but the stone pavilion deep within the citadel's east wing still echoed with tension. Wind whispered through its broken arches, carrying with it the scent of pine and old blood. A single lantern hung from an iron hook, casting flickering shadows on the two brothers seated across from one another—Josiah pacing now, too restless to sit still, and Joshua watching with the calm patience of a man used to making impossible decisions.

  "You want me to go after Elder Sister?" Josiah’s voice cracked like a whip against the stone walls. "Why don’t you go, Brother?"

  Joshua leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, as if he’d been expecting that question. "Because if I go after her…"—his voice was casual, too casual—"she might kill me."

  Josiah narrowed his eyes. "And what makes you think she won’t kill me?"

  "You were young when our brother was banished. She might… forgive you."

  Josiah stopped pacing. "Might?" He turned, glaring. "You’re saying might—like it’s a guess? You’re sending me into the lion’s den with a maybe?"

  Joshua cracked a dry smile. "We’re talking about Joanna. I’m not sure anyone knows what she’s capable of these days."

  "You’re her twin, and you’re telling me that?"

  Joshua’s smile faded. "She tried to kill a captain just for mentioning the banishment. Threatened to slit my High Captain’s throat when he delivered the final letter. So no, I’m not exactly confident I know her anymore."

  "And yet you’re sending me?"

  "She won’t kill her younger brother."

  "Then send Adina. She’s the youngest." Josiah’s voice shifted to hopeful sarcasm.

  Joshua frowned. "Are you not ashamed?"

  "Why should I be? I’m only doing what you are—sending a younger sibling to certain death."

  Joshua sighed and leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Listen to me, Josiah. You’re a hunter. The best tracker we have. You know how to vanish into forests, survive without being seen, pick up trails others don’t even notice. This mission needs you."

  Josiah stared at him, unblinking. "Don't tell me when you recruited me into the Hunters, this is what you had in mind all along?"

  Joshua hesitated. Just for a breath.

  "...Better to trust a brother than a soldier."

  Josiah let out a sharp laugh and collapsed onto the stone bench beside him, hands running through his hair. "Oh gods. And they call me the mischief in this family."

  He looked up, eyes hollow with a touch of humor. "I'm going to die before I ever get to meet our big brother again."

  Joshua offered him a half-hearted pat on the shoulder. “Just don’t get yourself killed. That’s my job.”

  Josiah trudged through the dense forest beneath a moonless sky, his boots crunching over leaves that hadn’t been disturbed in years. The air smelled of moss and forgotten time—thick, damp, and ancient.

  “Why this place, out of all the godforsaken corners of the world…” he muttered, brushing a low-hanging vine from his face. “Couldn’t she pick a ruin less haunted?”

  He stopped mid-step, eyes scanning the forest around him—trees gnarled like withered hands, their roots swallowing the earth like they’d grown hungry over the centuries.

  “And how come none of those motherfuckers in this land even know about a place like this?” he whispered to himself, more baffled than angry. “No wonder no one in the Empire gives a damn about this world anymore.”

  He paused. His tone shifted, quieter, but mocking.

  “Don’t you think so, Beast?”

  His eyes flicked to a nearby tree. “Come on out. You can’t hide from me—the Black Family’s Hunter.”

  A slow rustle answered him. From the tree’s shadow, a figure emerged hesitantly—a girl in a beast-uniform. No fangs. No claws. Just oversized gloves, worn boots, and a face too young to be sent alone into the dark. Her eyes stayed on the ground, her body tense like a startled doe.

  Josiah raised a brow. “Seriously? This is who Sis sent to tail me?”

  He took a step toward her, amused. “Do you even know how to hunt a two-headed dog?”

  “There’s… there’s nothing like that here,” she said softly, barely above a whisper.

  Josiah winced, overacting his pain. “Gods, that voice. You’re even younger than you look.”

  He took another step. She took one back.

  “Why follow me if you’re this scared?” he asked, curiously.

  “I thought…” she hesitated, then said with childish honesty, “I thought you wouldn’t notice me.”

  He blinked, then chuckled darkly. “You used my technique. The very one I invented. And you thought I wouldn’t notice? Oh, Sis… what are you doing, surrounding yourself with amateurs.”

  His gaze shifted to the distant silhouette of a crumbling palace half-swallowed by jungle vines.

  “That place… is it full of more like you?”

  She lifted her chin. “No. There are strong ones there. Ones who want to rise against Prince Joshua… for what he did.”

  Josiah shook his head. “Ah. So… idiots.”

  He tossed her a heavy black bag. She fumbled, caught it awkwardly.

  “Carry that and keep up,” he said, already moving toward the ruins. “And listen carefully: whatever is going on inside those walls—if you even think of going against my brother’s will, he will kill you.”

  “Our commander won’t like that,” she muttered with a flicker of defiance.

  Josiah glanced back. “You really are innocent, aren’t you?”

  She looked confused.

  He sighed. “Elder sister—Joanna—she may kill elder brother—Joshua— herself one day. But she won’t let anyone else touch him.”

  The girl went quiet, troubled.

  Josiah slowed, suddenly alert. His eyes swept the woods.

  “They’re here. More of you, following now,” he said calmly. “You know I wrote that technique, right? If you’re gonna spy, maybe don’t use my own methods.”

  No reply came from the woods, only the rustle of nervous feet and branches shifting under unseen weight.

  Josiah exhaled and muttered to himself, “Why are you surrounded by idiots, Sis…”

  He kept walking, the broken palace looming ahead like a long-forgotten god watching them both.

  “Catch!”

  A dagger flew through the air—clean and fast.

  Chandana snatched it mid-spin, her eyes narrowing toward the man at the edge of the training arena.

  Joshua leaned casually against a table, sword in hand. With a smirk, he placed it down—gently, deliberately—then vaulted over the railing, landing in the arena with effortless grace.

  “Join me,” he said, dusting his hands.

  Chandana frowned, gripping the dagger tighter. “Why?”

  He smiled wider, tilting his head like this was all a game. “A little spar. Nothing serious.”

  Her expression didn’t budge.

  “Alright,” he shrugged. “Let’s make it interesting. If you manage to land even one hit on me—I’ll let you and the prisoners go.”

  Chandana raised an eyebrow. “Don’t back down when you lose.”

  “I never do.” He stood relaxed, hands behind his back as she tied her hair into a tight ponytail and stepped into the ring.

  “I learned a bit about daggers at the academy,” she said, circling him slowly.

  “If you hadn’t, I’d be insulted,” Joshua replied, grinning. “So what do you want to know?”

  Without warning, Chandana lunged—her blade slicing toward his ribs.

  Joshua sidestepped like he was dancing, the wind barely disturbed. “Smooth. But not fast enough.”

  “What are the Beasts? The Hunters? Why’s your sister one and your brother the other?”

  Joshua raised an eyebrow as he pivoted behind her, avoiding a second strike by mere inches. “That’s a long story to tell while someone’s trying to stab me.”

  Chandana didn’t answer—just kept pressing.

  He spun away, lightly kicking a bench into her path. She leapt over it with surprising grace.

  “I already told you why Joanna joined the Beasts. Same reason the rest of us chose not to join the Knights or the King’s Guard.”

  She came in low—aiming at his legs. He jumped effortlessly.

  “In our army, there are fifteen sectors. Departments. Call them what you like,” he said, ducking under her blade. “But five stand above the rest.”

  Chandana lunged with renewed force.

  “The King’s Guard,” he said, as he twisted around her, hands still in his pockets, “elite among elites. They're the shield of the Empire. Pure defense.”

  She swung hard at his chest. He leaned back, letting the dagger miss by a breath.

  “The Knights,” he continued, “equal in strength. That’s me. We’re bound by honor. We fight only when commanded. We stop when ordered.”

  He flicked a finger and a gust of wind blew her off balance. She caught herself, frustration growing.

  “The Beasts—vicious. Loyal to the death. Think of them as trained war hounds. Tear through enemy lines with no hesitation. No finesse—just power and instinct. Joanna made them even more brutal.”

  Chandana tried a feint—then pivoted to stab from the side.

  Joshua simply stepped aside. “Better. Still slow.”

  “The Hunters?” he added, ducking low. “They hunt the impossible. Silent. Precise. They’re the ones who take down giants in the dark. That’s Josiah’s domain. Vice Commander.”

  “And the Fifth?” Chandana asked between breaths, trying not to show how winded she was.

  Joshua finally raised a hand, catching her wrist mid-strike and guiding it aside with infuriating gentleness.

  “Angel Wing, Our air force,” he said. “You have flying machines—we have soldiers who fly. Wings of light, shadow, flame. Adina’s with them. Youngest of us.”

  Chandana backed off, circling him again. Her shirt clung with sweat now. Joshua, in contrast, hadn’t even broken a breath.

  “What about your big brother?” she asked, changing tactics. “What was he in?”

  Joshua’s smile faded slightly.

  “Something darker,” he said, finally pulling his hands from his pockets.

  She lunged.

  This time, he caught the dagger mid-strike, twisted it from her grip, and flipped it casually in the air before handing it back.

  “The unit he led is nameless. It doesn’t appear in official records. It doesn’t move unless he commands it. Loyal beyond reason. Silent beyond understanding. They would die at a word from him… and kill at a whisper.”

  Chandana stood still, breathing hard, sweat streaking down her brow.

  Joshua offered her the dagger hilt-first.

  She didn’t take it.

  He gave her a soft look. “Not bad, by the way. You’ll get faster.”

  Chandana scowled. “You think this was a lesson?”

  He smirked. “Everything is, with us.”

  The great hall of the Blue Palace buzzed with morning energy.

  Warm sunlight spilled across the polished marble floors, catching in the pale blue banners that lined the walls. A rare stillness had settled over the capital — but inside, the Shadow Empire’s youngest royals were anything but quiet.

  Anweshi knelt in front of Adina, carefully adjusting the collar of her academy uniform.

  “You look like a true knight already,” she whispered with a smile.

  Behind them, Joshua checked the sharpness of his sword with quiet precision. Joanna flipped a dagger between her fingers like a coin, while Josiah sat cross-legged on the floor, chewing on fruit and looking extremely uninterested in anything that wasn’t food.

  “Josiah,” Anweshi called, not looking up, “today is Adina’s first day at the Academy. You’re responsible for her safety.”

  Josiah scoffed, eyes still on his plate. “Why’s that my job?”

  “You’re her older brother.”

  “Tell that to the shiny knight over there,” he muttered, jerking his thumb toward Joshua.

  Before Anweshi could respond, she took Adina’s hand and left the room to fetch something, trusting the siblings to not destroy the palace in five minutes.

  They lasted four.

  “Unlike some people,” Joshua said, sheathing his blade, “I actually have responsibilities. I’m the Welfare Committee President.”

  Joanna snorted. “That’s a dummy post.”

  Joshua turned to her, frowning. “Then maybe you should take care of Adina.”

  “I already am,” Joanna said smugly. “I’m the Student Security Officer.”

  “Also a dummy post,” Josiah mumbled with a mouthful of mango.

  “You don’t even have a post,” Joanna snapped at him.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “I do important stuff.”

  “Like what? Skipping class and sneaking off into the forest?” she shot back.

  “Unlike you, I’m trying to find my own path. Not just copy everything Big Brother does.”

  “You think I’m copying him?” Joanna stood up, voice sharp. “If I wanted to, you wouldn’t even exist in comparison.”

  “You copy him like a cursed mirror demon,” Josiah grinned.

  “Say that again,” she growled, stepping closer.

  “Mirror demon,” he said louder, eyes twinkling. “You are one, sister.”

  “You bastard!” Joanna hurled her dagger straight at him.

  Josiah ducked just in time, the blade slicing through the air and burying itself in a pillar.

  “You crazy bitch!” Josiah roared, flinging his bowl at her.

  Joanna swatted it aside — right into Joshua’s chest.

  Joshua froze. Looked down at the mess. Looked at them.

  “Oh, you’re both dead.”

  With that, he launched toward them. The bowl flew back toward Josiah, who caught it mid-air and tossed it at Joanna. She ducked and rolled behind a table. Josiah flipped a stool for cover. Joshua dove over the center couch like a soldier in a battlefield.

  The maids were already hiding behind curtains and columns. A tray of fruit flew. A scroll was set on fire. At some point, a tapestry collapsed.

  And just as Josiah was about to retaliate with a spoon-turned-projectile—

  “STOP IT! ALL OF YOU!”

  Anweshi’s voice thundered through the hall like a war drum.

  She stood in the doorway, Adina behind her, wide-eyed.

  The royal hall was chaos — cushions everywhere, cracked fruit underfoot, and the three siblings tangled on top of one another like wolves mid-brawl.

  The maids peeked out slowly. One brave soul stepped forward. “They were fighting over who should escort the young princess, Your Grace.”

  Anweshi turned toward the three of them, fury in her eyes.

  “You absolute idiots.”

  Before any of them could respond, Adina stepped forward quietly. “Please don’t be angry, Sis-Mother. I don’t need anyone to look after me. I can take care of myself.”

  Anweshi’s expression softened instantly. She knelt down and cupped Adina’s face in her hands.

  “Oh, my little lionheart,” she whispered, kissing her forehead. “You’re ten and you already have more sense than the rest of them combined.”

  She turned back to the trio — still piled up, faces sheepish.

  “I don’t care who watches over her. But if she comes home with even a scratch—any of you—will answer to me.”

  She narrowed her eyes at Josiah.

  “Especially you.”

  “Why me?” he groaned, clambering off Joshua’s back.

  “Because I saw the bowl you threw.”

  “Sister…” Josiah said gently, softening his voice as much as he could.

  From the far side of the room, standing by the broken window where moonlight spilled across cracked tiles, Joanna turned toward him. Her black armor shimmered faintly, and her long hair flowed like smoke in the wind.

  “Well, well…” she said, with a smirk and a lilt of mockery. “Since when did my little brother learn to sound soft and warm?”

  He didn’t respond. Just smiled.

  She tilted her head, lips quirking. “Joshua once told me—‘If you join the Beasts, Joanna, you’ll lose your honor.’” Her tone was playful, but something bitter danced beneath it. “Funny. He never said I’d lose the right to hugs from my siblings.”

  Before Josiah could answer, a shadow moved behind her—silent, smooth. It wrapped its arms around her in a firm embrace. Joanna didn’t flinch, but her eyes widened for a breath. The Josiah standing before her faded like mist in sunlight.

  And the shadow that held her transformed—his features materializing beside her ear.

  “I never said I wouldn’t hug you,” Josiah whispered with a grin. “Did I?”

  Joanna gave a laugh, low and surprised. “Still the best at conning, aren’t you?”

  He stepped back and flopped into a chair like he owned the place. “But your people? Not so much. They suck at tailing.”

  She rolled her eyes, arms crossed. “They’re trained to kill, not tail.”

  Josiah raised an eyebrow, nodding toward the girl standing awkwardly near the door—the one who had followed him through the jungle. “You saying this little one here could kill me?”

  “Don’t mock her,” Joanna warned, with a hint of fondness. “She might end up better than you.”

  He scoffed. “Please. I heard rumors you’ve gone mad… that even Joshua fears you now. But here you are. Still the same old Sis.”

  “Joshua fears me?” Joanna laughed, head tilting back. “Well… that’s good news.”

  Her smile lingered, then faded into something softer. She studied him for a moment.

  “So. He sent you?”

  Josiah nodded slowly. “He did. Though I’m not entirely sure why.”

  Joanna’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Oh, maybe I know why.”

  She walked past him, trailing a faint scent of iron and flowers. At the doorway, she paused.

  “Go find yourself a decent room upstairs. Second floor. I’ll send someone to prepare it,” she said casually. Then turned to the young girl. “Phoebe—”

  “Wait,” Josiah cut in, rising from his chair. “Sis… can I take this little idiot as my maid while I’m here?” He pointed at Phoebe with a mischievous grin.

  Joanna raised an eyebrow. “Why her?”

  He just winked.

  Joanna stared at him for a second, then sighed. “Don’t plan anything too funny, alright?”

  She turned back to the girl. “Phoebe, take his bag and follow him. Look after him while he’s here.”

  Phoebe nodded quickly, grabbing Josiah’s bag and hurrying to catch up with him as he made his way upstairs.

  “But Princess—” one of Joanna’s senior maids began to protest, only to fall silent under the weight of her mistress’s gaze.

  “Let him be,” Joanna said simply.

  She watched the corridor for a long second after her brother disappeared, then turned and walked quietly toward her room.

  The smile on her lips was subtle—but it was the first real one she’d worn in years.

  “Phoebe… is that your name?” Josiah asked as he pushed open a door on the second floor. The wood groaned, revealing a decayed room draped in dust and cobwebs. Moonlight slipped through a shattered window, catching on broken floorboards and peeling paint.

  He stared for a moment, unimpressed.

  “Fuck it,” he muttered. “Is there a better room, Phoebe?”

  “None on this floor, Prince,” she said softly, still not meeting his gaze. Her voice trembled just slightly.

  Josiah gave a dry laugh. “Of course not. Figures. Born two years after Joshua and Joanna, and they still treat me like the family clown. Always some prank. Always some setup.” He glanced around the room, amused. “Joshua said she changed. But this feels like her work.”

  He stepped inside. The air turned still.

  Then he stilled too, closing his eyes and murmuring something beneath his breath. Shadows near the corners stirred—gathering slowly, unnaturally. Black mist crept across the floor like spilled ink. Phoebe stiffened as the room began to transform.

  And then—like a ripple through reality—the shadows vanished. The broken chamber had become a regal, luxurious suite. Polished floors, silk curtains, flickering golden lights. Even the cracked window was now whole.

  Josiah turned, grinning. “Good enough for both of us?”

  Phoebe blinked. “I… The soldiers have bunks downstairs—”

  He cut her off with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Sister said you're to take care of me. Want me to tell her you're refusing orders?”

  She looked up quickly, alarmed. “No, my Prince.”

  “Good girl.” He waved her inside. The door shut behind her with a click.

  “Put the bag there.” He pointed lazily to the corner, then dropped onto the bed like he owned the world. He patted the space beside him. “Come here.”

  Phoebe hesitated. “I… I don’t want to.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

  “I joined the Beasts to be strong. To follow Princess Joanna’s path. Not to…” She swallowed. Her hands trembled. “Not to be used. Even if it means being dismissed—I don’t want to.”

  Her voice broke, and tears slipped down her cheeks. “They say… Prince Josiah plays with girls.”

  He didn’t answer at first.

  Then, quietly: “Do they?”

  She nodded.

  Josiah leaned forward. “Then sit.”

  “No—”

  Before she could finish, a dark fog twisted around her. Her limbs froze—not with pain, but with invisible weight. Her body moved on its own, stepping forward. Her voice failed her. The only thing that didn’t stop were the tears.

  Josiah stood slowly and circled her once. “This spell,” he said in a low, almost clinical tone, “was taught to me by my eldest brother. He can bend wills without a word. Joanna copied him. Joshua mastered it. Me? I'm still practicing.”

  Phoebe trembled, her breath shallow.

  He crouched at her feet. “When you said no to a Black, you should have made sure you could resist a Black.”

  She flinched.

  Then—he reached for her ankle.

  She braced, shivering.

  But all he did was press two fingers lightly to her skin. A cold wave pulsed through her body and vanished.

  And then—he stood, stepped back, and released her.

  The smoke dissolved.

  Phoebe dropped to her knees, gasping.

  “I could have done anything,” Josiah said quietly. “You thought I would.”

  He turned his back on her and climbed back into the bed.

  “But I didn’t.”

  She looked up, stunned, tears still streaking her face.

  “I asked for you because you're innocent,” he said, voice softer now. “I wanted to see what you'd do. How you'd break. And now… you've felt the spell. You’ll be harder to break next time. That’s a gift. From me.”

  He snapped his fingers.

  A hidden door shimmered into view behind the wall where she had dropped his bag.

  “Your room’s in there.”

  Phoebe remained frozen, trying to understand what just happened.

  “Don’t say anything,” Josiah murmured, already lying down with his eyes closed. “You’ll ruin the moment.”

  Then, after a pause—he opened one eye, and for the first time, gave her a real smile. Warm. Tired. Almost… kind.

  “Go sleep, Phoebe. You passed. And do a favour, never tell anyone about what happened.”

  “Princess, here he comes.”

  A girl in a black dress and white hand band whispered as she peeked past the palace archway. Two others, dressed alike, stood beside her with narrowed eyes.

  “Look at him—walking like nothing happened,” one of them murmured under her breath.

  “You should punish him, Princess,” said another, her voice sharp.

  But Anweshi said nothing.

  She stood silently at the gate of the palace, her long dark robes brushing against the marble, her eyes fixed on the lone figure emerging through the sea of golden flowers.

  Josiah.

  The boy walked slowly, hands in his pockets, eyes half-lowered. The flowers barely shifted at his feet—as if even the petals feared brushing against him.

  When he reached the steps of the palace, Anweshi stepped forward.

  “Josiah,” she said, her voice even, calm, but edged with disappointment. “What did you do?”

  “I didn’t do anything… Big Sis,” he said quietly.

  “My maids tell me otherwise,” she replied, folding her arms. “They say you were practicing something forbidden.”

  At that, Josiah glanced sideways. His gaze slid to the maids—sharp and cold, filled with quiet venom.

  “Don’t look at them like that,” Anweshi said, her voice gentle but firm. “If you have something to say, say it to me.”

  “I don’t want to,” he muttered, lowering his head.

  “Then why glare at them like that?” she asked softly.

  “They deserve it.” His voice was stronger now, more defiant. “They don’t see me as one of them. So I figured I’d show them a devil.”

  A silence hung between them.

  Then, without another word, Anweshi stepped forward and took his hand.

  “Come with me.”

  He hesitated only a second before letting her lead him. They walked through the flower field in silence, golden blossoms swaying in the wind around them like a gentle sea. The palace loomed behind them—glinting blue in the afternoon sun, distant now, like a fading memory.

  When they reached the middle of the field, where the petals grew tallest and the wind couldn’t hear them, she stopped.

  “You know why I brought you here?” she asked.

  Josiah looked around the quiet garden. “So no one sees you punish me,” he said, his voice breaking.

  “You hate me too, don’t you… Big Sister?”

  Anweshi turned to him, kneeling down so they were eye to eye. She cupped his face in her hands.

  “You’re so wrong,” she said gently. “So, so wrong.”

  He blinked, confused, ashamed.

  “You think your sister would punish her little brother for being different?” she whispered.

  “Then why are we here?” he asked again, searching her face.

  She smiled, brushing the hair from his eyes.

  “Because I want to see what you’ve learned.”

  He looked at her, startled. “But it’s… dark art. Father hates it. If he finds out, you could get in trouble too.”

  “I don’t care about a little trouble,” she said with a shrug. “Not if it means seeing what you can do.”

  “But Big Brother said—”

  “I’ll talk to him.” Her voice cut through like a blade of moonlight. “He won’t say a word to me. Now…”

  She leaned in, smiling.

  “Show me, Josiah.”

  “I didn’t believe Joanna… or Joshua,” Josiah whispered, his voice cracking like a thread stretched too thin. “But this—this is just like her.”

  His steps were slow as he crossed the broken courtroom, where only dust and shadow had reigned for decades. The moonlight cut through shattered stained glass, throwing ghostly patterns on the floor.

  At the center of the room sat a girl—bound, unmoving, silent.

  Aaradhya.

  He knelt in front of her, his face unreadable, his tone carrying the weight of something long buried.

  “Two years,” he said quietly. “That’s all I got with mother. Just Two.”

  He leaned back slightly, looking up at the high ceiling as if trying to hold back something.

  “Then five years after she was taken from us… a girl shows up. My brother’s beloved.”

  He looked at her—not at the bindings or the bruises—but at her eyes. He seemed to be searching for something in them. Memory, maybe. Or salvation.

  “My father… he was always distant. Royal, cold. And I was just a child. Joshua and Joanna—older, smarter—they used to prank me endlessly. Poor Adam... he tried to be a father to all four of us. He was stationed outside the Empire then. Couldn’t be with us every day.”

  He gave a bitter chuckle. “So I became the mischief. The joke. The chaos between them all. I used to think—maybe I’ll grow up to be a villain someday.”

  He stood, walking slowly around her.

  “Then… big brother returned. But he didn’t come alone.”

  Josiah’s voice softened, filled with something far too fragile for a world like his.

  “He brought home a goddess—a woman with blue eyes like the ocean, with a heart like no one we’d ever known.”

  He stopped again, beside her. “She became a mother to me. To all of us. The best parts of us—Joanna’s gentleness, Joshua’s empathy, Adina’s grace... they came from her. Not from blood. From her.”

  His voice broke. He wiped his eyes quickly with the back of his sleeve.

  “And then one day, she was gone.”

  A pause. Then a long breath.

  “Ten days later, my brother was banished.”

  He didn’t look at Aaradhya now. He stared past her—at ghosts she couldn’t see.

  “Our family shattered. Like glass.”

  Josiah turned to her then, eyes sharp but not cruel. “And now here you are. With her eyes.”

  He stepped closer. Bent down, just enough for their gazes to meet.

  “The eyes of the girl who was both our sister... and our mother. Our crowned princess.”

  He turned and walked toward the exit, boots echoing through the hollow chamber.

  Aaradhya stirred, feeling something shift. The pressure on her wrists and ankles began to fade. Her voice returned in a whisper.

  He didn’t turn around.

  “I’d advise you not to run,” Josiah said calmly. “You can’t outrun my sister’s soldiers.”

  He paused at the doorway.

  “But I won’t keep you in chains. Not when you look like her.”

  And then he was gone.

  Only the wind answered after that.

  “What the fuck were you thinking?!”

  Joanna’s voice exploded through the corridor as she stormed into Josiah’s room, her shadow already leaking from her like smoke ready to burn.

  Josiah, lounging on the bed, looked up with a smirk. “What happened? I was just playing with Phoebe.”

  “Don’t play with me, Josiah!” she snapped.

  Phoebe ran in behind her, panting, eyes wide.

  Josiah gave her a side glance. “Ah, you told her. Phoebe, I specifically said not to tell anyone anything.”

  Phoebe looked torn, confused. “Commander… the Prince, he…”

  “Stay out of it, Phoebe, if you want to live.” Joanna didn’t even look at her, her voice low, fierce, and final. Then she turned back to Josiah, eyes blazing. “Now you. Are you finished playing?”

  The room darkened.

  All the shadows in the building began to stir—crawling, rising, bending toward Joanna like hounds waiting to be unleashed.

  Josiah stood, pushing Phoebe gently behind him. “Easy, sis. Let’s talk first, not tear the roof down.”

  “Talk?” Joanna’s voice dropped into something sharp and commanding.

  Josiah lifted his hands slightly. “Yesterday, I just wanted to unwind after the long walk—”

  A burst of shadow slammed into his face mid-sentence, launching him backward into the bed. He hit hard, blood trailing from his lip.

  “Sis, don’t—!” he shouted, summoning a wall of wind-shadow just in time to block another shadow strike that would’ve crushed Phoebe. She staggered back, terrified.

  “If we’re fighting,” Josiah said, rolling to his feet, “we do it between us.”

  “Then answer me,” Joanna shouted.

  “Not before I give back what I got.” He flung a table at her with a burst of wind. It slammed into her midsection, hurling her off the second-floor rail.

  But Joanna landed cat-like on the hall floor below—already moving.

  Josiah dropped down after her, gliding on a current of air like falling mist. He landed softly, cocking his head. “What do you want to know?”

  “Who gave you permission to release my magic?”

  Joanna lunged at him, dagger flashing. Josiah ducked, narrowly dodging her strike.

  “That idiot girl—I told her not to run,” he muttered. He stretched out his hand. A long, thin sword came flying from his room above, slicing the air past Phoebe, who flinched as it passed.

  “She did run,” Joanna hissed, slamming her dagger against his sword. Sparks danced. Shockwaves rippled through the ruined hall.

  “You thought she wouldn’t?”

  “I thought she understood her place.”

  They broke apart, blades whirling. Joanna’s speed surged as she pivoted, catching Josiah with a deep slash across his back. He staggered.

  “You always were a fool,” she growled. “Emotionally blinded. Just like then.”

  But Josiah dissolved into mist and reappeared in the far corner of the room, leaning against a pillar. “It’s called the act within the act. She won’t run again. And I’m not letting you chain her like some animal.”

  Joanna’s eyes narrowed. “Same old tricks.”

  She threw her dagger, but it dropped midair—blocked by an invisible barrier.

  Josiah laughed. “You talk like Big Brother. Act like him. But you still miss the details. He would’ve seen the shield coming a mile away.”

  “I do copy Adam,” Joanna said, her tone darkening. “Just like him, I’ve mastered both shadow—and fire.”

  Suddenly, fire sparked within Josiah’s own shadow—crackling, spreading fast.

  He yelped, jumping back and slicing his own flame-shadow apart. “Shit. I forgot about fire!”

  He landed in front of her and dropped his sword, raising his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I lost.”

  The flames died. The shadows calmed.

  Joanna stepped close, calm now. “Why did you release her?”

  Josiah lowered his eyes. “…She looks like her.”

  Joanna was quiet for a moment.

  “Why are you keeping her here?” he asked.

  Joanna’s expression softened just enough. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “For Brother to come.”

  Josiah blinked. “Joshua?”

  She smiled faintly. “No. Big Brother. Adam.”

  Josiah’s face froze. “He’s… coming?”

  Joanna nodded. “That’s why that cunning bastard Joshua sent us here. He knew that.”

  They sat in silence under the flickering arena lights.

  Chandana’s clothes clung to her skin, soaked with sweat. Her breath came in shallow pulls, still recovering from the spar. Her arms ached, her legs burned—but the frustration burning in her chest outweighed all of it.

  Across from her, Joshua looked like he’d barely moved at all.

  He lounged like this was a garden bench, not a battleground. No sweat, no strain—just the same maddening calm, as if the last thirty minutes had been a game he never intended to lose.

  “So… let me get this straight,” Chandana said finally, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. “First, you send your twin sister into my world. And now you’ve sent your younger brother after her?”

  Joshua raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering at the corner of his lips. “Correct.”

  She blinked at him. “One of you was enough to turn half my world inside out,” she muttered. “And now you’re saying… three of them?”

  He held up four fingers.

  “Four, actually.”

  She stared at him. “Four?”

  Joshua gave a casual nod, as if announcing the guest list to a private war. “After I sent Josiah, I decided to send our youngest sibling to trail him.”

  Chandana narrowed her eyes. “Why…?” The words came out slower now. The weight of what he was saying was starting to press down on her. The world she thought she knew—the real world—suddenly felt like the illusion. And this world, with its terrifying, beautiful siblings, was the one that actually mattered.

  Joshua leaned back against the stone edge of the arena, folding his arms. “Her expertise was needed.”

  “What expertise?”

  He glanced at her, expression unreadable for a moment.

  “Back then, I had no idea where our brother disappeared to,” he began. “But when I got word that a girl—one who looked like her—was found in the human realm… I knew he’d come back.”

  “Her?” Chandana asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Our crowned princess,” Joshua said softly. “The one who held us all together. Joanna would do anything for her. And anything for our brother. Sending her first was never a question. The Beast answers her call—no hesitation, no doubt. Big Brother needed a personal army there. A foundation.”

  He paused, watching Chandana absorb it.

  “I sent Josiah next. Because if things went sideways, Adam would need someone to track, kill, and vanish. That’s what Hunters do. Silent. Clean. Efficient.”

  He smiled faintly. “Josiah do talk lot. But he finishes the job faster than anyone.”

  Chandana didn’t speak.

  “And Adina,” he continued, “well… our big sister used to tell her stories—about your world. Flying metal birds the size of wyverns. Fire-breathing machines in the sky.”

  Chandana murmured, “Airplanes…”

  Joshua nodded. “Adina grew up on those stories. So if anything went truly wrong—I wanted to make sure Adam wasn’t fighting from a disadvantage in your skies.”

  A long silence passed.

  Chandana sat forward slightly. “And you? What about you?”

  Joshua looked at her for a long moment, then smiled.

  “I was going to follow him too. After all…” He stood, slowly brushing off imaginary dust. “Every king needs his knight.”

  She looked up at him. “Then why didn’t you?”

  He gave a low chuckle and turned his eyes to the dark ceiling above them, where shadows flickered like ghosts watching from the rafters.

  “Because—” he said, almost to himself, “our big brother… as always—had other plans.”

  It waits.

  It studies.

  It chooses the moment.