The throne room was silent, but not with reverence—with daring.
Lady Veyra's scrolls rustled as she spoke, her voice steady as if addressing a peer, not a king. "Your Eternity, the clans have… concerns. The princess's banishment has stirred unrest. The mixed-born whisper of tyranny, and the Fire Kingdom's armies gather at our borders. We urge you to reconsider—"
"Reconsider?" Tucan's fingers tightened on the armrests of his obsidian throne. The word tasted like ash. Since when did they urge me?
General Kael stepped forward, his scarred face twitching. "The Blades Clan stands ready to fight, but even my warriors question your judgment. Sending Hafa to the Edge—it reeks of mercy. Mercy is weakness."
Lord Selrin chuckled, adjusting his gold-threaded sleeves. "Weakness or not, trade with the Earth Kingdom has collapsed since the Ashen Pass incident. My coffers bleed silver, Your Eternity. Stability requires… flexibility."
The Shadow of the Veils lingered behind them, silent, but Tucan felt Lira's gaze like a knife between his ribs. Waiting. Always waiting.
He rose, and the air thickened, seconds slowing to syrup. "You forget yourselves."
Lady Veyra lifted her chin. "We serve the kingdom, Your Eternity. As must you."
Serve. The word ignited something in him—a memory of Hafa's laugh, her taunt—"You're not a god, you're a glorified librarian!"—and the fragile leash on his wrath snapped.
"You wish to see service?" Tucan's voice dropped, soft as a grave's whisper. "Then kneel."
He clenched his fist.
Time fractured.
The lesson begins,
Lady Veyra reached for her scrolls—only to find them empty. Centuries of ink, laws, and histories vanished, parchment crumbling to dust in her hands. "No—no!" she screamed, her composure shattering. "These are the kingdom's memories! You can't—"
"I can," Tucan said. "And I have. You worship history, Veyra. Now watch it die."
General Kael roared, drawing his sword—but the blade disintegrated mid-swing, rust devouring steel like locusts. His armor followed, age rippling across its surface until it fell apart, leaving him in tattered rags. "What madness is this?!"
"The madness of time," Tucan said. "You crave war, Kael? Fight with your bones."
Lord Selrin backed away, clutching his gem-studded ledger. "Your Eternity, please—I only seek the kingdom's prosperity!"
"Prosperity?" Tucan flicked a finger. The ledger's gold leaf peeled away, coins dissolving into sand. Selrin's silk robes frayed to threadbare burlap. "Count your regrets now, tradesman."
Only Lira remained untouched, her hooded face unreadable.
"Do you have nothing to say, Shadow?" Tucan asked, cold fury lacing his words.
She stepped forward, unflinching. "You mistake fear for respect, Your Eternity. Crush us, and you rule over ashes. Again."
The throne room trembled. Tucan loomed over her, his eyes blazing silver. "You think I care for empty titles? I am this kingdom. I am the law. I am time itself."
He spread his arms, and the walls wept.
The King and the Void,
Alone in the clocktower, Tucan stared into a time-lens showing Hafa in the Edge of Eternity. She wandered a desert of frozen moments, her fire undimmed, kicking at spectral ruins.
"Stubborn fool," he muttered.
A memory surfaced—Hafa's voice, sharp and alive: "You're scared to care!"
He slammed his hand on the lens. "I am not scared."
The glass cracked, bleeding silver.
In the silence, Tucan's reflection stared back: a boy-king with ancient eyes, forever twenty-three, forever trapped.
He whispered to the void, "What have I become?"
The void did not answer.