Fia’s guts turned. Her muscles froze in panic, and sweat began running down her rigid spine. She stayed still as Erise walked slowly towards her and gave her a powerful embrace. When the cold edges of the armor touched Fia’s skin, she felt as if a bloodless monster was gripping her fragile body.

“The coronation is next week,” Erise whispered. “All you have to do is give me your blessing as the descendant of Conqueror Titus. Don’t mess it up.”

Fia nodded slowly. “I will be careful," she murmured. "I value my life above all else.”

"Good," Erise smiled devilishly. “I will see you soon, sister.”

Even after the soon-to-be Queen left, a terrible residue of her aura filled the air. Fia weakly fell into her bed. Since she could not fall asleep, she grabbed the silent skull underneath her bed. “I don’t like her,” Fia told Sura.

“Her soldiers do,” he murmured. “She is a good tyrant; she does not rule with absolute fear. She belongs to the same breed as Titus.”

“Titus, Titus. I am his descendant here,” Fia complained. “Why is this name so powerful?”

“With only a handful of mages, the fool killed the original Prophets and all of his generation’s Seven Kings,” Sura reminded her. “Calling his name ‘powerful’ would be an understatement.”

Fia angrily kicked the mattress underneath her. “But he died!” she retorted. “Why would my psychopath sister want a dead man’s name?”

“As long as you are alive, that name has substance,” Sura said. “Titus had many enemies, but he also had his fair share of loyal allies.”

Fia sighed. “You only have perfect answers,” she said. She then drew Sura closer to her until their foreheads touched. Her hands were trembling.

“Why are you afraid, child?” Sura asked. “You survived poverty and war. If you were weak, you would have already died.”

“A mere famine cannot compare to a devil’s plague, and human violence does not incite terror like a dragon’s breath,” Fia said. “With your guidance, Sura, I have become stronger. I don’t need to die from the wars of rulers I have never met. But I fear Erise is no longer human; how am I supposed to win against that monster?”

“You don’t always need to win. Sometimes, you can just run,” Sura said. “And if you can’t run anymore, I will protect you.”

“You, a skull that doesn’t even have his own body?”

“Silence. Now, sleep--your nagging tires me, child.”

“Mm.”

---

Sura watched the dark, empty sky. He was under the Curse, and the Curse did not allow him to die. As an undead, he could not sleep, so often times he let his consciousness drift throughout the earth. As always, Fia was under tight security. Around one hundred men guarded her at all times. Strangely, Erise would always be outside his aura’s range. She was a devious one; she would not have spared even her innocent half-sister if she was not interested in Titus’ name or Sura’s immaterial body.

Sura then focused on the sleeping “child” next to him. These two decades have not been quiet ones, mostly thanks to her constant chattering. He did not mind this abnormality; in fact, he cherished it.

Someday, you will understand, Titus once told him.

“Like hell I do, old friend,” Sura murmured.

It was dawn, and then it was morning.

Seven days until the coronation.