Jafar's gaze flickered toward Erebus, who groaned softly in his fevered state. The damp cloth on his forehead had begun to warm, and Luciana instinctively reached for it, replacing it with a fresh, cool one.
"I am here to tell you who my master is," Jafar said, his voice steady but solemn. "It may not interest you, but I ask that you listen."
Luciana gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.
Jafar exhaled, his expression unreadable. "Master has led an incredibly difficult life, my lady. He has been shunned by nearly everyone. His efforts go unrecognized, his talents unappreciated. They call him a beggar, a beast, a creature with bad blood plucked from the slums. Meanwhile, you are a royal, raised in protection and luxury. I understand that you resent him... but we—his people—see hope in you. You may be the only one who can change his life. Please, do not push him away."
Luciana's hands clenched into fists, trembling with barely restrained emotion. She had tolerated enough of these presumptions.
Who are they to judge my life?
Her voice cut through the air like a blade. "You speak of protection and luxury as if you know my past. Do you?" Her golden eyes burned with intensity. "Do they? I was nearly isolated from the world in my childhood, abandoned behind palace walls. I lost my mother. I was born different and was whispered about like an outcast. Do you know what it is like to claw your way up, to fight for recognition? I worked relentlessly to prove myself as the Crown Princess of Amanécer. And then, for my father's selfish ambitions, I was discarded—offered up as a sacrificial bride."
She inhaled sharply, her anger simmering just beneath her grief.
"And now you stand before me, expecting me to be his salvation?" she challenged. "Are you telling me he did all of this—abducting me, threatening me, isolating me, breaking me—because he had no choice?"
Jafar flinched but remained silent.
"He stole me from my home, manipulated me, wore me down. He took me to his bed, fulfilling desires I knew nothing about, and in doing so, he ensured that I carry his child—knowing full well that this was a contract marriage. And yet, I endured. I endured without complaint. Tell me, Sir Jafar, what for?"
Her voice shook, not with weakness, but with the weight of injustice.
"You claim that I am his hope, but what have I ever been here, other than a foreigner forced into submission? From the moment I arrived, I was left alone in the name of so-called 'protection.' No one guided me. No one welcomed me. And now that I am carrying his child, I am suddenly expected to be revered?"
Jafar had no response.
Luciana's gaze turned cold. "Tell me, how do you think my father, the Emperor of Amanécer, will react when he learns what has been done to me? That I am carrying a nameless demon's child?" She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in. "What do you think he will do to this place, to your people?"
Jafar's expression darkened. "Is that a threat?"
"It is a fact," she countered. "Or do you plan to silence me? To kill me along with your master's heir?"
Silence.
At last, Jafar exhaled and bowed his head. "I apologize, my lady."
Luciana scoffed softly. "Spare me your apologies. They mean nothing." She shifted her posture, her voice losing its fury but not its edge. "If you truly wish to speak of Erebus, then tell me about him. Not as a master. As a man."
Jafar hesitated for a moment, then finally spoke.
"My master had a sibling. A twin brother."
Luciana's breath caught. The boy in the painting. She recalled the small, oval-shaped pendant—wooden, carefully crafted—bearing the image of two young boys.
Jafar continued, his voice distant with memory. "Erebus and his brother were war orphans, just like me and my sisters. The war that began four decades ago stole our parents, but Erebus... he had already been an orphan before then. Despite that, he was different. Enthusiastic, lively. He took us in—five abandoned children—pulling us out of the filth that was once a village on the border. We survived together, huddled for warmth, scavenging for scraps.
"One day, an old man found us. Mina, only three years old at the time, had been stoned by the villagers. She bled. She wailed. And the old man took pity on us."
Luciana listened in silence as Jafar recounted their struggles—the old man who took them in, the skills he taught them, the meager meals they survived on. How Erebus had always been the fastest learner, the most determined, the most resilient.
"We had built something close to a life," Jafar said. "We sold herbs. We sewed clothes from scraps. Erebus and his brother honed their craft, working with metal, hunting, selling firewood. But then, the attack happened. Our home was ambushed by demons. We fought, but we were powerless. And when they saw Asmodeus, his twin..." His jaw tightened. "They knelt. They called him 'chosen.' And they took him."
Luciana could hear the grief in his voice.
"Master tried to stop him. But Asmodeus left without so much as a glance back."
Jafar paused, exhaling slowly. "That was the first time I saw Erebus cry."
Luciana's heart clenched.
"He did not cry when he was wounded. He did not cry when he bled. But that night, he cried until he fell unconscious."
Jafar went on, detailing the years of searching, the loss of their old guardian, Erebus's departure, his eventual return as a changed man—cold, unrecognizable. The title of Margrave. The isolated fortress. The people who followed him, outcasts who saw in him something worth trusting.
"He forgot how to live," Jafar admitted. "The sickness in his soul—his vortex—stopped. He lost his emotions, his sense of self. He would forget who stood before him, threaten his own men without reason. We tried to find a cure, but he only continued to spiral deeper into the void."
Luciana felt an ache settle in her chest.
"But then, the day he carried you into this fortress..." Jafar's voice softened. "It was the first time in a decade that I saw him feel something. When he took it upon himself to find a cure for you, I knew—you had an effect on him.
"That is why the servants have hope. That is why they expect you to stay. Because they believe that you, an Amanécerian, hold the power to heal him." He hesitated, then said, "And I know the truth, my lady."
A sharp inhale caught in Luciana's throat.
Silence stretched between them. The fire crackled softly in the hearth. Nemesis, curled beside Erebus, had fallen asleep.
Jafar rose to his feet and bowed deeply.
"Please, my lady." His voice trembled slightly. "I beg of you. Save our master. He may not see it, but everyone in this fortress—everyone in this domain—cherishes him. He is not the wealthy noble like how other nobles are. He is not the most powerful. But he does not ignore his people's cries. He has never truly abandoned us.
"So, please... stay.
"It is a selfish request, I know. But if there is anything you desire in return—anything—I will make it happen. Just... please."
Luciana said nothing.
She could only listen, the weight of his plea settling deep within her heart.