Chapter 281: The Weight Upon Tiny Shoulder’s
[Silthara Palace—Malik’s Private Chamber—Nursery—One Month Later—The Next Morning]
Morning sunlight quietly poured through the enormous lattice windows; golden rays danced across the white marble floor. The fragrance of camphor incense lingered softly throughout the chamber.
Outside, the Empire of Zahryssar had already awakened. Knights changed their patrols. Servants hurried through endless hallways, but inside...time itself seemed to slow.
Upon the enormous lower diwan... Levin sat comfortably against embroidered cushions; his long blue robes had loosened around his shoulders.
As his son rested peacefully within one arm and his daughter remained nestled against the other. The twins had become far calmer over the past few days.
Tiny hands constantly reached toward their father, searching, holding and refusing to let him move too far away.
"Greedy little serpents," Levin smiled softly. "I have only two hands, and yet, you both insist on claiming one each."
The baby boy answered first.
"Baa..." His tiny fingers immediately wrapped around Levin’s index finger.
The little prince refused to let go, not even for a heartbeat. Levin laughed quietly. "Already stubborn. I wonder...who blessed you with such determination."
Across the chamber...Zeramet quietly raised one eyebrow. "I believe that answer is rather obvious."
Levin glanced toward him. "...Really?"
Zeramet slowly nodded. "You married that stubborn serpent."
Levin stared at him for a long moment, and then he couldn’t help smiling. "You truly recovered from your first instinct."
Zeramet coughed awkwardly. "I would prefer not to discuss that."
Levin chuckled. "I thought so; I still haven’t forgiven you for that."
Silence settled once more; only the tiny sounds of the twins drinking their milk filled the chamber. The baby princess suddenly released Levin’s robe. She stretched both tiny arms toward the ceiling.
"Aaa..."
Then—
Hic!
Her little face immediately scrunched. Levin blinked. "Oh?"
Before he could react, Zeramet had already risen from the lower diwan. "...Allow me."
Levin looked at him suspiciously. "You know what you’re doing?"
The Malik proudly nodded. "Of course."
Levin slowly handed their daughter to him. Zeramet accepted her with surprising gentleness; his enormous hands looked almost comically large compared to the tiny infant.
The princess blinked curiously; her bright blue eyes remained fixed upon her father. Zeramet carefully rested her against his shoulder; one large hand gently supported her tiny head, and the other softly patted her back.
"Like this?"
Levin nodded. "A little softer."
Zeramet immediately adjusted. "This?"
"Better."
Another gentle pat, another, then—
"Burrrrp..."
A tiny burp escaped the little princess, and in silence, both fathers looked at her. Princess blinked innocently, as though nothing remarkable had happened.
Levin burst into quiet laughter. "Congratulations. You have successfully defeated your first royal enemy."
Zeramet looked genuinely relieved. "I was victorious."
Levin laughed even harder. "I am certain history shall remember this achievement."
Princess suddenly grabbed a handful of Zeramet’s silver hair hard.
"...Ah." Zeramet winced.
Levin tried very hard...very, very hard...not to laugh. "I fear...our daughter has declared another battle."
Even little Zaryan began giggling; seeing his sister pulling their father’s hair seemed endlessly entertaining.
"Baaa..."
His tiny tail legs happily beneath the blankets. The chamber slowly filled with warm laughter, the kind of laughter Silthara Palace had not heard...for many years.
After a while the twins finally became sleepy again. The princess yawned softly, and the prince had already begun dozing peacefully against Levin’s chest. Zeramet quietly looked toward the enormous palace windows.
Beyond them...Zahrysaar stretched proudly beneath the morning sky, his smile slowly faded.
"They’re so small." His voice became quieter; he gently looked at the sleeping princess resting upon his shoulder. "Yet, they already carry a burden greater than most rulers."
Silence.
Levin slowly looked toward him, then toward the twins, and a warm smile touched his lips as he gently stroked his son’s tiny hair.
"Who in this world lives without responsibility, Zer?"
Silence.
"You, me, Father, every servant, every knight, every farmer beneath the desert sun, every mother, and every child." He looked lovingly at both infants. "Responsibility is not something reserved for kings. It is something every soul carries."
Another pause.
"The only difference..." Levin’s eyes softened. "It is the weight each of us must bear."
Zeramet quietly listened. Levin continued. "They are the heirs of House Veyrhold, the heirs of Zahryssar, and the children born from Golden Blood."
He gently kissed Prince Zaryan’s forehead. "And one day the entire world shall place expectations upon these tiny shoulders."
Princess slowly wrapped both little hands around Zeramet’s finger, almost instinctively. Levin smiled.
"Our duty...is not to remove that responsibility." His blue eyes met Zeramet’s golden ones. "Our duty is to make certain they never mistake responsibility for a burden."
Silence.
The words settled deeply within the chamber. Zeramet looked once more at the twins; his golden eyes slowly became thoughtful.
"Once their blood awakens..." The peaceful atmosphere subtly shifted. "They will no longer simply be our children; they will become symbols. Hope for some fear and fear for many."
His gaze slowly drifted beyond the palace, toward the endless desert stretching beyond Zahryssar; his voice became colder.
"And those...who shall fear them the most..."
A long silence followed.
"Will be...the Black Serpents."
The chamber became still. Even the morning breeze seemed to pause. Levin gently looked down at his sleeping twins, so innocent, so peaceful, and completely unaware...that kingdoms would one day tremble merely because their hearts continued to beat.
He slowly wrapped the blanket more securely around them, then whispered with quiet determination—
"Then let them come." His blue eyes lifted toward the distant horizon. "My children...will never face that darkness, alone."
Beside him...Zeramet smiled, not as the Malik of Zahryssar, not as the Prime Alpha feared across kingdoms but simply as a husband and as a father.
Who had silently sworn...that no force beneath the heavens would ever lay a hand upon his family again. The chamber remained peaceful; only the gentle breathing of the sleeping twins could be heard.
After a long silence...Zeramet finally spoke. "...Have you decided?"
Levin looked up. "About what?"
"Their names."
A soft smile spread across Levin’s face; his eyes slowly drifted toward the twins.
"I have. The names came to me the moment I looked at those old scrolls."
Zeramet looked at the sleeping princes, then at the little princess peacefully resting against his shoulder.
"...Would you tell me?"
Levin chuckled quietly. "I heard that every name for the kids is first whispered at Lord Urzan’s temple. I would not like to break that tradition."
Silence.
"Our children deserve to receive their names beneath His blessing."
Zeramet nodded slowly. "As tradition commands the heirs of Zahryssar...must receive their names before Lord Urzan."
He gently tucked a loose strand of silver hair behind Levin’s ear. "Then we shall hold their naming ceremony. A ceremony worthy of the Golden Blood."
Levin smiled. "No unnecessary extravagance. I wish for prayers, not spectacle."
Zeramet’s smile deepened. "I expected nothing less from my Moonflower."
Levin shook his head with amusement.
"I shall send word to the high priest," Zeramet continued thoughtfully. "The Temple must begin preparations immediately. The sacred basin, the ceremonial incense, the Blessing Scrolls, and..."
His voice suddenly stopped, the warmth within the chamber quietly faded, and his golden eyes slowly darkened.
"...The necklace."
Levin’s smile disappeared.
Silence.
His fingers instinctively tightened around the edge of the blanket covering the twins as his voice became quieter, almost cautious. "Has High Mage Arkhazunn confirmed it?"
Zeramet slowly nodded. "He has."
Another silence followed.
"He examined every ancient scripture preserved beneath the Temple. He compared the inscriptions, the forgotten records...and the relics sealed since the Age of Malik Saqira."
His gaze slowly shifted toward the ancient pink necklace resting upon the nearby table.
"There is no doubt; it truly belonged to Malika Ninsara."
Levin recalled the necklace before handing it to high mage Arkhazunn, the pink gemstone, which quietly and anciently reflected the morning light beautifully.
Far too beautiful...for something capable of such terrifying power.
Zeramet’s voice became heavier. "Do you know what troubles me the most?"
Levin slowly looked toward him.
"It isn’t the relic itself. It is...why. Why would Malik Saqira bury such a relic outside Zahryssar? Not within the Imperial Vault. Not beneath Lord Urzan’s Temple. Not even inside the Royal Mausoleum but upon foreign soil."
Levin slowly lowered his gaze, as though countless thoughts were beginning to connect and he whispered,
"A relic that is capable of reversing time..." His breathing slowed. "It is far more terrifying than one capable of merely stopping it."
Silence.
"If time can be stopped, destiny simply waits. But if time..." His blue eyes settled outside the window. "Can be reversed, then destiny itself can be rewritten."
Neither husband spoke; the realization settled heavily between them. Zeramet finally broke the silence.
"Something happened...many centuries ago." His voice carried unusual certainty. "Something great enough to force Malik Saqira...to hide this relic from the world."
Levin remained thoughtful as he murmured. "And now...it has returned."
Silence.
Zeramet glanced down towards his daughter he was holding. "No ancient relic awakens without reason, no forgotten secret returns...without purpose."
His golden eyes slowly lifted toward the palace windows as his voice became almost a whisper.
"I cannot shake this feeling that we are standing at the beginning of something far greater than ourselves."
Outside, the wind quietly swept across Silthara Palace, carrying grains of desert sand through the morning air. Levin gently looked down at the sleeping twins.
Prince shifted slightly. Princess quietly reached for her father’s hand even in her sleep. A gentle smile returned to Levin’s face; he carefully pulled the blanket higher around them.
"Then let tomorrow wait."
He whispered.
"Our children...shall receive their names first. They deserve one peaceful day before the world begins placing its weight upon them."
Zeramet looked at Levin, then at his children, and a faint smile slowly appeared.
"Very well. For today...we are not rulers; we are simply...their parents."
Silence embraced the nursery once more. Warm, peaceful, and sacred. Neither of them noticed...that the pink gemstone is not something to be taken so lightly.
And somewhere far beyond the Silthara Palace, someone is waiting to end the golden blood, and the return of Malika Ninsara’s necklace, buried by her husband, Malik Saqira, will not only reveal the history of why Malik Saqira killed his wife and why he buried the necklace and...
Who knows whose fate was rewritten?
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