Chapter 10: Chapter 9: Cry Wolf

“What did you do to him?” Amelia asked, concern lacing her voice.

“D-don’t worry—” Deimos stammered. “I just used my Signature to burn the curse infesting his core. Told you I could burn away almost any curse…”

Except my own, Deimos thought grimly, glancing at Remus. The prince lay unconscious, his chest rising and falling in slow, shallow breaths.

“Shit, this wasn’t supposed to happen like this…” Amelia muttered under her breath. “The maids know now. They’ll start spreading rumors…”

“Rumors?” Deimos blinked. “Amelia, what’s going on? Why is the prince cursed?”

Amelia didn’t respond. Instead, she lifted Remus gently into her arms. Midnight hovered protectively beside her, its aura tense.

“We can’t talk here—we need to bring him to the cellar.”

The cellar? Deimos echoed in his head.

In a flash, they teleported. The familiar, musky scent of the cellar hit Deimos like a wall, making him squint in discomfort. He followed Amelia through the same winding corridor he’d walked before, until they reached the large, fortified cell—the one with thick steel bars and claw marks carved deep into the stone walls.

“Wait… this cage was for him?” Deimos murmured.

Amelia nodded, stepping inside and lowering Remus onto the rugged bed. Midnight curled up beside him, whimpering softly.

“Every full moon, this happens,” Amelia said quietly. “Only the queen knows the full truth. Maybe Elvira too. They don’t tell me much.”

She crouched beside Remus and traced her fingers along the black veins creeping up his arm and toward his neck.

“All I know is, what he has is a curse—and it reacts violently to both silver and moonlight.”

Deimos clenched his jaw. “But it’s broad daylight outside… so he’ll transform again tonight?”

Amelia shook her head. “Not just that.” Her eyes narrowed as she studied the marks. “Someone exposed him to silver. That’s strictly prohibited within the castle.”

“Maybe it was an accident? Someone might’ve worn silver jewelry?”

She gave him a sharp glance, her brow furrowed.

“Silver isn’t sold freely in Dol Marne. The Queen’s banned it from most shops outside the castle. And inside, every maid and servant is scanned daily to make sure no one brings any in.”

Deimos frowned. “I guess that explains all the gold furniture.”

Amelia stood. “This wasn’t an accident. Someone wanted this to happen. They’re trying to expose the prince’s secret… and sabotage the royal family.”

She moved toward the cell door. Deimos followed, closing it behind them as she locked it with a quiet click.

“We’ll need to launch an investigation,” she muttered. “No one’s leaving this residence until we find the traitor.”

With a flick of her wrist, she conjured a portal of swirling smoke. Through it, a dimly lit room came into view—guards sitting around a table, playing cards. The scent of rum wafted through the opening.

The guards scrambled the moment they saw her, knocking over their chairs in a panic.

“Awaiting your orders, Commander Amelia, ma’am!” they chorused, half-sober and flustered.

“The prince has been cursed,” she announced. “The castle is on lockdown until we find the person responsible.”

The guards’ expressions turned grave. Some stood straighter; others hiccuped quietly, trying to compose themselves.

Amelia’s eyes swept the room. She pointed to two guards in the back—the only ones who looked remotely sober.

“You two. I need you to watch the prince. Make sure the curse doesn’t progress further.”

“Understood,” they replied in unison, stepping through the portal. As they appeared in the cellar, their tall frames immediately filled the space, drawing Midnight’s fiercely barking as they approached in front of the cell.

How many times has this happened before? Deimos wondered, a chill running down his spine.

“The rest of you,” Amelia snapped, “move your asses. Guard every entrance and exit. No one leaves this place unless I say so.”

The guards saluted and dispersed at once.

Amelia waved her hand again. The smoky portal shimmered and shifted, revealing a regal hallway.

“Let’s go,” she said, stepping through. The smoke wrapped around them like mist, and in an instant, they stood in front of a towering golden door.

She knocked gently. Silence stretched between them. Deimos glanced to the side—his eyes catching a short maid with brown hair turning the corner, cradling something in her hands.

“...Kiwi?” he muttered, puzzled.

Before he could get a better look, the door creaked open. Princess Elvira stood on the other side, her hair in a messy bun and a thick robe wrapped around her.

“Princess Elvira,” Amelia began, her tone formal. “There’s something we need to discuss.”

Elvira’s eyes darted to Deimos, her face flushing. “E-erm… could you give me a second?” she asked quickly, closing the door before either of them could reply.

Amelia and Deimos exchanged glances.

A moment later, the door opened again—now revealing Elvira in her full royal attire, her hair flowing freely over her shoulders.

“Please… come in,” she said, voice calmer, ushering them into her room.

As Deimos stepped inside, he was immediately struck by the scent of lavender. The room shimmered with dozens of small, glowing white lights—like stars suspended in midair—all orbiting a crescent moon emblem at the ceiling’s center.

Three large chairs floated down around them, one settling neatly behind Elvira as she moved to sit, smoothing her robe before lowering herself onto it. The other two hovered a moment longer before landing behind Amelia and Deimos, who followed suit.

Elvira crossed one leg over the other and folded her hands in her lap. “Alright. What’s the issue?”

“It’s about your brother,” Amelia began. “The curse. It’s starting to affect him again.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Elvira froze, her expression flickering. “That’s… impossible. There’s still daylight.” She glanced toward the window, where the sun now hovered just above the horizon.

“That’s why I think someone poisoned him with silver,” Amelia said, leaning forward. “It may have triggered an early transformation.”

Elvira blinked, caught off guard by the intensity in Amelia’s eyes as the commander stepped closer.

“Princess,” Amelia continued, calm but firm, “I know you don’t like speaking about your family. But if we’re going to stop this—if we’re going to protect him—we need everything you know.”

Silence wrapped around them like fog. Deimos’s eyes wandered the room. A portrait on the wall caught his attention: a young Elvira sitting beside her brother and their mother. Even back then, Remus had perky, wolf-like ears and a long, dark tail trailing behind him.

Finally, Elvira spoke.

“The curse’s been there since I can remember,” she said softly. “Mother told me she was cursed by a witch—one they called the Lady Gray.”

Deimos raised an eyebrow. “The Lady Gray?”

Elvira nodded. “She cursed our bloodline with misfortune. For Remus… that misfortune settled right into his Soul Core the moment he was born. It’s been growing ever since.”

Deimos leaned forward. “And the wolf? Midnight. Is that the curse?”

“I… don’t think so,” Elvira said. “Midnight is probably his Signature—but twisted by years of being soaked in the corrupted Arkhaios energy released by the curse. My guess is it became something more. A spirit, maybe. Or both. It follows him everywhere.”

“So it’s an effigy,” Amelia suggested.

Elvira gave a half shrug. “You could call it that. Only mother knows for sure. She’s the one who always seems to understand everything that's happening. And the only person she ever bothered to explain anything to…”

She pointed.

“…was you.”

Deimos blinked. “Me?”

Amelia cut in. “Where is Queen Selene now?”

“I don’t know,” Elvira said. “I haven’t seen her since Deimos’s trial.”

Both women turned to him.

“Ah—after the trial, the Queen said she was tired,” Deimos explained. “A maid showed up and teleported her back to her room. Then she brought me to the other room where you found me.”

A beat of silence.

Amelia narrowed her eyes. “She… teleported?”

“Yeah? Why?”

Elvira sat straighter. “Deimos, none of the maids here are Avatars. They don’t have Signatures.”

Deimos felt a cold weight drop into his stomach.

“And even if they did,” Amelia added, “maids aren’t allowed to move the Queen, much less teleport her anywhere. That’s a task only the royal guard can perform.”

The room went deathly still.

You could’ve heard a pebble drop.

All three stood at once. Amelia didn’t hesitate—her arms swept wide, summoning a thick wall of smoke that swirled around them.Catching a few chairs in the range as they teleported, landing just outside a massive gilded door.

Without waiting, Amelia kicked the door open with explosive force.

The room was empty.

“The Queen…” Amelia whispered, her voice cracking slightly. “She’s gone.”

Elvira and Deimos stood frozen, staring into the darkened chamber.

“M-Mother?” Elvira whispered, glancing around in confusion.

Amelia cursed and sprinted back out the door. “Deimos! What did this maid look like?”

“She was short… w-with brown hair,” Deimos stammered, still catching his breath. “They called her Kiwi.”

Amelia’s eyes sharpened. She turned on her heel. “Right. Deimos, protect the princess—I’ll go look—”

A sharp, piercing ring echoed through the hallway, cutting her off. In an instant, Amelia and Elvira were suspended mid-air, frozen in time.

“W-What’s happening?” Deimos breathed, wide-eyed. He looked around and realized he could still move—unlike the others. Elvira was frozen, her expression locked in confusion. Amelia, too, was stuck mid-motion, mouth open where her sentence had been cut short.

A soft voice crept out from the shadows. “Ah… I knew it wouldn’t work on you.”

A figure emerged from the darkness: a small maid with short brown hair, dragging behind her a massive greataxe—its blade far larger than her entire frame.

“It seems Lady Tiamat overestimated me,” the girl said softly. “I apologize my lady. Truly.”

Deimos stared, heart pounding. “Kiwi…?”

The girl looked at him, eyes dull and empty—soulless.

“Tarot of the Sun, you may not pass this point—as long as I stand here,” Kiwi said, tightening her grip on the axe’s handle.

“I don’t understand. What’s happening? Where is the Queen?” Deimos asked, his voice sharp with confusion.

Kiwi said nothing.

“Prepare yourself,” she muttered instead, and a glowing circular symbol shimmered into view on her forehead. “You now stand before Eclipse’s Seven of Swords Tarot.”

Her hands trembled slightly as she said it, betraying the uncertainty in her voice.

“Seven of Swords…? Tarot?” Deimos echoed, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it.

Kiwi rushed forward, lifting the massive axe high above her head before bringing it down with feral force. Deimos dodged at the last second—the axe slammed into the wooden floor with a deafening crash, splinters exploding around them like shrapnel.

What the hell is her problem? Deimos thought, ducking beneath a sweeping horizontal slash. He lunged forward, closing the distance, aiming straight for her arms.

A precise strike to her forearms made her cry out—her grip slipped. The axe dropped with a heavy thud, and Deimos immediately followed with a swift kick, launching her backward into a wall.

“I’ve never heard of a Tarot called the Seven of Swords,” Deimos said, breathing hard. “Would you care to explain?”

Kiwi’s jaw clenched. “Of course you haven’t. Even the Tarot abandoned by the goddess herself won’t acknowledge us. You Greater Tarots… you're all the same.”

In a flash, she vanished—then reappeared behind him, snatching the axe mid-motion and swinging it down in a furious arc.

“You think you’re better than us!”

The impact shook the ground, the shockwave blasting Deimos backward. He skidded across the hall, crashing into a pillar.

“If you’re a Tarot, then I’m sorry for not acknowledging you…” Deimos muttered, pushing himself up—

But something’s wrong.

If she were truly a Tarot, I’d feel it—the pressure from her core, the divine presence. But this… it’s nothing. Just like an ordinary Avatar.

Another swing came at him—he dodged instinctively, the blade smashing into the wall, shaking the ceiling above them and making the lanterns flicker violently.

Well, her Signature might seem ordinary… but her strength is terrifying.

He leapt into the air, spinning with a flaming kick—his foot struck her chest, igniting her outfit in white fire.

Kiwi hit the floor hard, frantically patting away the flames. As she struggled, the time-freezing spell on Amelia and Elvira began to waver. Their bodies twitched, moving at a snail’s pace—barely breaking through the hex’s hold.

“Grr… ENOUGH!” Kiwi roared.

With a burst of speed, she dashed forward, faster than Deimos could anticipate. Her fist slammed into his face, sending him reeling.

“Lirael created us for the same reason she created you!” she screamed, teleporting behind him. A brutal uppercut sent Deimos crashing into the ceiling.

He coughed out a mouthful of spit.

“She gave us the same mission—to protect humanity! So why? Why are you praised while we’re ignored?”

She vanished again.

Kiwi reappeared beneath him, axe in hand. As Deimos began to fall, she caught him on the blade and hurled him downward, slamming him into the floor.

The axe embedded deeper into his back, and blood burst from his mouth.

Dragging him along the hallway’s rug, she left a streak of crimson in her wake before tossing him like a ragdoll into the far wall. His body hit hard, crumpling on impact.

“But that’s okay,” Kiwi whispered, wiping his blood off the blade with her fingers… and licking it. “Because once Lady Tiamat’s plan is complete… we’ll finally get the recognition we deserve.”

She giggled faintly, a soft, broken sound.

Deimos didn’t respond.

If I had seen it sooner… maybe I could’ve stopped her. Right there in the throne room.

He strained to move, the wound on his back seemingly paralysing him.

She kidnapped Selene… because I underestimated her. I dismissed her as just another Avatar. Just another Signature user. I’ve been moving too fast—too reckless. Not thinking, not noticing the little things.

A soft white glow began to rise from his body. Flames curled around his armor, wrapping him in light.

His wound didn’t heal—but it didn’t worsen either. The eternal fire of his Soul’s Preservation locked the damage in stasis.

I guess she’s right in one regard. I need to acknowledge more, to see clearly. Because if I don’t, more lives will be lost.

He exhaled slowly—white flames laced his breath.

“And I won’t allow that to happen.”