Days passed, the Grand Hall of Lust hummed with soft music, strings woven with mortal heartstrings played a tune that sounds almost human. Chained chandeliers burned with violet fire, scattering reflections across columns carved to resemble entwined bodies. The throne of Lust was raised on a dais at the very end of the vast hall, directly across the ornate doors.

  Akil sat closest to the wall, beneath one of the windows, violet light streaming through and highlighting his regal features. His pose was impeccable as ever, chin tilted, fingers steepled. An assortment of delectable snacks and a pot of tea prepared for him laid untouched, servants ringed the walls, quiet. The hall was normally filled with the faint hum of laughter and whispered politics but not today, his thoughts were far from the surroundings.

  He still heard her heartbeat. A faint irregular rhythm, steady enough to assure him that she still lived.

  He exhaled slowly, forcing it out of his mind just as the doors of the hall parted.

  Syrene of Envy entered, and the servants bowed.

  Her arrival was quiet, but her presence could not be denied, the temperature dropping, her emerald aura wisping around her. She met Akil’s gaze briefly, a flicker of familiarity, caution and something else.

  “Prince of Lust,” she said, voice smooth but pointed. “I come seeking your mother.”

  Akil gestured to the seat across from him. “She’ll be here soon. Please…” he waved his hand over the refreshments “… treat yourself.”

  “I was told you’d returned from the Wrathfront unscathed. The border flames have quieted.” She smirked as she took her seat. “You really are a busy fellow.”

  “Quiet does not equal peace,” came his smooth reply.

  Her smirk hid something within it, like she was mocking him with knowledge hidden.

  Akil made a gesture with his fingers, and the servants bowed deeply and took their leave.

  “So, the absence of peace is what makes you so different today or is it something else?” The smirk deepened, her eyes gleaming with mischief. She nibbled on a blood red cake glistening on the silver platter.

  His face became stony, a suffocating quiet pervading the air. His flames shifted, the very air held its breath.

  “Careful Syrene.” His voice low, sharp, permeating the fabric of space and causing the air around Syrene to shimmer and waver.

  “I was right, you really are not yourself today.” Her smirk left her face, cake forgotten. “Ease up with the theatrics Akil, I get the message.”

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  She fanned the air around her, lessening the pressure that shook the hall.

  “Children.” A haunting, chilly voice spoke from the throne.

  Lirien had arrived.

  She didn’t walk in, she simply appeared, as though the room had remembered she was supposed to exist. Her gown flowed like molten glass, her presence soft yet absolute.

  The progenies acknowledged the presence of the Sovereign with a low bow and proceeded to stand in front of the raised dais.

  “I come on behalf of Envy, my lady,” she said, deepening her bow. “Boundary management as decreed. The rift between our dominions needs reinforcements before Wrath’s forces strikes again.”

  “Is that so?” Lirien asked softly.

  “Yes, my lady. Wrath’s aggression strains our borders. I thought it wise to consult both you and your son.”

  Lirien’s gaze lingered on her a touch too long. “How thoughtful…” she glanced at Akil. “… and yet, I wonder what else brings you to my walls.”

  The violet hue in her eyes flared faintly, the flames across the room swayed towards her, their color deepening.

  Syrene smiled. “Duty, my lady.”

  Lirien smiled back. “Duty often hides prettier motives. Be rest assured of that.”

  Akil watched their exchange in silence. Lirien’s words were gentle and had a touch of mirth to it, but he could hear the barbs beneath. She wasn’t really speaking to Syrene, she was speaking to him through her.

  He finally spoke. “Envy seems to be diligent about border matters. Perhaps too diligent. You could teach Wrath a thing or two about subtlety.”

  Syrene met his gaze, grasping the hidden meaning behind his words. “You may be right on that account but, even subtlety has its limits when the Code begins to crack.”

  The hall went still. Akil tensed.

  Lirien’s eyes sharpened, faintly, dangerously. “Crack,” she echoed. “You speak of it as though it were a thing that can falter.”

  “Everything falters, my lady. Nothing is immutable,” Syrene said softly, her eyes never leaving Akil’s. “Even law. Even sin.”

  Lirien rose. “Then, young princess, you mistake what the Code is.” She descended the steps slowly, the hem of her gown sliding across the marble. “It is not written, where it can easily be altered. It breathes. It binds. It does not falter…” Her words carried a cold weight with it. “… it corrects.”

  Her voice filled the hall like a quietly raging storm. Akil met her eyes.

  “And if it corrects too much?” He asked quietly.

  “The answer is quite obvious.” Lirien tilted her head. “It simply means something has broken its rhythm.”

  Once again, the hall was filled with heavy silence.

  Syrene was the one who finally broke it. “Lust’s dominion thrives on beauty and indulgence, but too much tension ruins the art. Perhaps, its best I take my leave, my lady.”

  Her tone was teasing but the message was clear enough: she’s seen enough.

  Lirien gave a soft, approving nod. “Yes. Go, child. Carry my regards to your mother.”

  Syrene gave a deep bow and turned but paused just before hall’s doors. She looked back at Akil. “You should rest,’ she said quietly. “You really do not look like yourself today. You look… burdened.”

  Her words hit hard but he could offer no response.

  For a moment, their gazes locked, understanding passing between them, unspoken but clear. Then she was gone, vanishing into the open expanse of the corridor beyond.

  Lirien’s hand drifted across her son’s shoulder as she passed him, her voice a whisper against his ear. “You know what I dislike most about lies, my dear?”

  Akil suppressed a shiver as he didn’t answer.

  “They always sound too close to the truth,” she said, her smile radiant but deceiving. “Do not let yours grow too beautiful.”

  Then she left him standing between the chandelier’s violet glow.

  With the hall emptied, Akil stood alone. His reflection trembled slightly on the marble, eyes dimmer than usual, the sigil on his chest pulsing faintly beneath the fabric.

  He turned toward the corridor leading to his chambers, the sound of his footsteps merging with the whispers of the Code.

  It felt colder tonight.