[House Veyrath — The Following Morning]
Morning sunlight poured through the carved bronze lattice of House Veyrath, spilling across the sandstone floor in warm golden patterns. Inside one of the private chambers, a tiny figure stood before a polished bronze mirror.
Seyra twirled; her red frock flared around her knees, its dark-gold embroidery catching the sunlight. A small leather sash rested around her waist, while bronze bracelets circled her little wrists. Her long, curly hair had been carefully trimmed and brushed until it flowed naturally down her back, and a delicate bronze tiara rested upon her head.
Seyra stared at her reflection, and then she spread both arms, proudly admiring herself for another moment.
"Wooooow...I look extremely gorgeous."
Mira smiled behind her. "You certainly look lovely, my lady."
Seyra grinned. "I knew it."
The maids exchanged amused glances and then, from the other side of the chamber, came a calm voice.
"You’re still ugly."
Seyra froze, her smile disappeared, and her entire body went perfectly still.
Then—
FWIP!
Her head snapped toward the source of the insult.
Vaerum stood lazily against one of the carved sandstone pillars, his arms folded across his chest. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, and his silver eyes held the faintest trace of amusement.
Seyra stared at him as though he had just committed a crime against the gods. "What did you say?"
Vaerum didn’t move.
"I said you’re still ugly."
Mira’s smile vanished, and the maids went rigid. Seyra marched toward him, her tiny bracelets jingling with every angry step.
"Are you actually supposed to be my father?"
Vaerum raised an eyebrow, and she stared at him accusingly.
"A father is supposed to praise his daughter! He should tell her she’s beautiful! He should adore her with magnificent words!" She placed both hands on her hips. "But whenever you open your mouth, you only release nonsense!"
Silence.
Mira’s eyes widened, the maids looked at one another, and no one breathed. Vaerum stared down at the little girl, then a faint smirk appeared.
"And yet..." He pushed himself away from the pillar. "You still haven’t called me Papa."
Seyra froze, her mouth opened, but nothing came out. She quickly looked away, puffing her cheeks. "It will take some time."
Vaerum walked toward her.
"How much time?"
"I don’t know."
"You decided to become my daughter within a few breaths."
"That was different."
"How?"
"That was an emergency."
Vaerum’s eyebrow rose, and Seyra crossed her arms. "And it’s not as though you’ve been my father for years. You only recognized me as your daughter yesterday and did not yet register me as your daughter."
A brief silence followed.
Vaerum stopped in front of her, and then, without warning—
WHOOSH!
Seyra suddenly found herself lifted from the floor. Vaerum had scooped her into his arms, and the room went dead silent.
Mira’s eyes widened, the maids froze, and the guards outside the chamber nearly stopped breathing. Everyone stared at their Azram.
Their terrifying Azram, the Silent Tempest. Holding a tiny four-year-old girl in his arms, and somehow, every person in the room reached the same horrifying conclusion.
Is Azram going to throw her out?
Seyra blinked up at him, and Vaerum adjusted her against his arm with effortless ease. Kharzen, standing near the doorway, visibly stiffened.
Renn’s face went pale as Vaerum continued calmly. "After breakfast, we leave for the Temple of the Seven."
Seyra blinked.
"...Why?"
Vaerum’s silver eyes rested upon her. "To have your name entered into the family tablets of House Veyrath."
The chamber remained silent.
Seyra stared at him, then her expression softened. "Oh."
Vaerum turned toward the doorway, carrying her as though she weighed nothing. Seyra rested comfortably against his shoulder. Mira watched them leave, and then she slowly looked at the other maids.
None of them spoke; they simply followed after them. When Vaerum entered the dining chamber with Seyra still in his arms, every servant inside immediately froze.
Again.
The Azram had not thrown her away, he had not returned her to the streets, and he had not even handed her to a servant.
He was carrying her himself.
And the strangest part? Seyra looked completely comfortable.
She lazily rested her head against Vaerum’s shoulder, as though she had been doing so for years instead of merely arriving in his palace and terrifying half the household within a single morning.
Vaerum glanced toward the table. "You need to eat more; you will need strength if you intend to fight me."
Seyra blinked. "Fight you? Are you going to teach me how to wield a sword?"
Vaerum regarded her for a moment. "Do you not wish to learn?"
Before Seyra could answer, Vaerum guided her toward the dining chair and made her sit; he then took his place at the head of the table. Renn, Mira, and the other maids immediately began arranging breakfast before them.
Silver and bronze vessels filled the table, along with warm flatbread, dates, honey, fresh figs, roasted lamb, and bowls of lentils seasoned with herbs. The scent of spices filled the chamber, drifting beneath the carved stone pillars and gilded lamps, for one brief, blessed moment, everything appeared perfectly normal.
Then Seyra smiled with all her innocence, saying, "I want to learn how to wield a sword. I love killing people!"
. . .
. . .
Silence, a absolute silence.
A maid froze halfway through placing a bowl on the table; another slowly lowered a tray. Renn’s hand stopped in midair. Mira stared at Seyra as though she had just witnessed a sacred statue stand up and announce itself as the destroyer of mankind.
Vaerum, however, merely waited as Seyra continued cheerfully.
"I’ve always dreamed of chopping someone’s hands and legs..."
Someone at the far end of the table visibly swallowed.
"...slashing their throat..."
A spoon slipped from a maid’s fingers.
Clink.
"...watching their head roll away like a ball..."
Another maid stared at the ceiling as if silently asking the gods for immediate rescue. Seyra leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with alarming enthusiasm.
"And I’ve always wanted to discover new methods of torture."
Renn’s soul quietly departed his body as Seyra’s smile widened with wickedness.
"I especially like the idea of keeping someone downstairs while I experiment with different ways to make them suffer."
. . .
. . .
Silence.
No one moved and no one dared to breath.
Even the servants who had spent years serving Vaerum’s household suddenly looked as though they were reconsidering every decision that had brought them to this palace.
Mira slowly glanced toward Renn. Renn slowly glanced back; their eyes spoke without a single word.
Is she serious?
Unfortunately.
Should we run?
Where?
The desert?
She might follow us.
The mountains?
Vaerum owns those too.
The river? She might learn to swim.
Mira’s expression became one of profound despair. Meanwhile, Seyra sat there smiling sweetly; she looked so innocent, so harmless, and so utterly adorable, which somehow made everything worse.
Vaerum finally reached for his knife, and everyone stiffened. He calmly cut a piece of roasted lamb, and then, without the slightest change in expression, he said,
"That is a good hobby."
Every head in the room turned toward him. Renn looked genuinely betrayed by his lord. Vaerum placed the piece of meat onto Seyra’s plate.
"I can teach you more methods in the future."
Seyra’s face lit up.
"Really?"
"Of course."
She giggled.
"Then I definitely want to learn!"
Renn closed his eyes.
We are utterly doomed.
Vaerum picked up another piece of meat and held it toward Seyra as she opened her mouth obediently and accepted it, chewing happily, moving her legs with happiness.
And just like that, breakfast continued. Though every servant in House Veyrath had reached the same terrifying conclusion:
The Azram had not merely adopted a daughter.
He had apparently adopted a tiny menace, and judging by the peaceful expression on Vaerum’s face...
he seemed perfectly happy about it.