The blood dripped from his fingers, each drop hitting the floor with a sound that seemed to echo in the silence. Peacemaker stared at the crimson stain on his pale hand as though he were seeing something impossible.

He was bleeding.

Him.

The man who had walked through battlefields unscathed. The man who had faced Transcendents and walked away without a scratch. The man whose very essence commanded respect from the elements themselves.

Bleeding from a kick. A single, casual kick from a human who looked no older than twenty winters.

His mind, which had been a hurricane of thoughts just moments ago, suddenly went still. Clear. A cold, terrible understanding settled into his bones.

'This isn't strength. This isn't power. This is... something else entirely. Something I've never encountered in nine centuries of existence. It has to be.'

Peacemaker slowly lowered his bloodied hand. The rage that had flared in his chest guttered and died, replaced by something far more primal—survival instinct. Pure and undeniable.

He had lived for over nine hundred years by knowing when to bend and when to break. Right now, every fiber of his being screamed that breaking was the only option on the table. Pride was a luxury for those who could afford it.

"I..." His voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again, this time keeping his gaze fixed firmly on the floor. "I apologize. For my disrespect."

The words tasted like ash in his mouth, but he forced them out nonetheless.

Northern said nothing. He simply stood there, arms folded, waiting.

Peacemaker understood. An apology wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.

Slowly, painfully, the ancient elf turned to face Eisha. The woman who, in his memory, had been nothing more than a troublesome princess—a project. The woman whom he had tormented over the years for his own amusement. The woman whose... son? now held his very existence in the palm of his hand.

"Lady Aureisha—"

"It's Lady Eisha, you fat bone."

"Ah... forgive me. Lady... Eisha." Each word felt like swallowing broken glass. "I... humbly submit myself to your service."

Eisha's expression was unreadable for a long moment. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her face—not kind, not cruel, but something in between. The smile of someone who had been waiting a very long time for this exact moment.

"Peacemaker," she said, tasting his name like a fine wine. "Do you remember what you said to me, two hundred and seventeen years ago, at my coming-of-age ceremony?"

The elf's face paled further—an impressive feat given his current blood loss.

"I... Lady Eisha, I—"

"You said," she continued, as though he hadn't spoken, "my ego, my confidence, my courage and hero complex—it'll all end in my father's bed. The old man will rape me, and I will be forced to sire his child with a twisted glee." Her voice remained steady, almost conversational. "You said, but you know me, you know I'm too brilliant, so I will spend every day hating the child and try not to kill him. You said you'll stop me at all cost... and when I'm done, you'll put your seed in me, as will three of your other sons."

Eisha's eyes gleamed with something dark and satisfied. "It's been two hundred and seventeen years, Peacemaker, and I've never forgotten a single word of what you whispered into my ear that day to break me."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Northern's eyebrow rose slightly. He looked at his mother, then back at Peacemaker, and something cold flickered behind those blue eyes. Something that made the temperature feel like it had dropped several degrees.

"I didn't know that," Northern said quietly.

Peacemaker felt the temperature in the room drop. Not metaphorically—actually, physically drop. Frost began to crystallize on the metal walls. His breath came out in visible puffs, curling white in the suddenly frigid air.

'Frost?' he realized with mounting horror. 'How can he control frost again... how... wait... who... ahhh.'

The pieces clicked together in his mind, and somehow that understanding only made it worse.

"Northern." Eisha's voice cut through the building pressure like a blade. "It's fine."

"It's not fine."

"It is. Because now..." She leaned forward, and her smile widened. "Now, Peacemaker is going to spend however long I deem necessary making up for every single word. Every single slight. Every single thing he uttered in hopes of breaking my spirit but only ended up fueling my resolve."

She stood up from the chair and walked toward the kneeling elf, her footsteps measured and deliberate. Each step echoed in the frost-touched silence.

"You're going to give me the names of every noble in the cabal—every perpetrator of the heinous acts you commit on their behalf. You will reveal all the resources you have planted around Tra-el." She stopped, letting the weight of her next words settle. "And today... today is the end of your dream of bringing back that man."

She stopped directly in front of him and tilted his chin up with one finger, forcing him to meet her eyes. Her gaze was unyielding. Absolute.

"And then, Peacemaker... you're going to help me burn Stuart down."

For a moment, something flickered in Peacemaker's ancient eyes—defiance, perhaps, or pride. The last vestiges of who he had been. Nine hundred years of accumulated power and influence, reduced to this.

Then he remembered the feeling of being unnamed. Of being nothing. Of being less than the dust beneath this human's feet.

"Yes," he whispered. "As you command... my Lady."

Eisha held his gaze for a long moment, searching for deception, for hidden resistance. Finding none, she released his chin and stepped back.

"Good. We'll begin soon. For now, heal yourself and stay in this room. If you try to leave, if you try to contact anyone, if you even *think* about betraying us..."

She glanced at Northern.

"My son will know. And what he did to you just now? That was mercy. Trust me when I say you don't want to see what he considers punishment."

Northern, who had been watching the exchange with quiet interest, finally spoke.

"One more thing."

Peacemaker looked up, bracing himself.

"The elf on the bed." Northern gestured vaguely toward Milas, who had been doing an exceptional job of becoming one with the furniture throughout this entire exchange. "What's his relation to you?"

Peacemaker's jaw tightened. "He's... my son. Milas."

"The son who was supposed to... oh?"

There was a heavy pause in the air. The frost on the walls seemed to thicken.

Then...

"...Yes."

Northern hummed thoughtfully, the sound deceptively casual. Then he turned his attention to Milas, who looked like he wanted the bed to swallow him whole.

"You. Stand up."

Milas stood so fast he nearly fell over himself. His legs were visibly shaking, barely keeping him upright.

"I wasn't part of it," he blurted out. "I never—I just followed orders, I didn't—"

"Did you help?"

Milas's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

The silence was answer enough.

Northern sighed, running a hand through his white hair. "You know, I'm really trying to be patient today. It's not my strong suit, but I'm trying."

He walked toward Milas, and with each step, the elf seemed to shrink further into himself. By the time Northern stopped in front of him, Milas looked like he was trying to fold himself out of existence.

"Here's what's going to happen. You're going to serve my mother too. Not because you deserve mercy—you don't—but because she might find you useful. If she decides you're not useful, I'll let her decide what happens to you. Understood?"

"Y-yes! Yes, I understand! Thank you! Thank you for your mercy!"

Northern's expression flickered with something that might have been disgust. Or maybe just exhaustion.

"Don't thank me. Thank the fact that my mother is here... it'd have been very satisfying to make you experience your—ahem—anyways." He cut himself off, jaw tightening briefly. "Thank my mother."

He turned back to Eisha, his expression softening slightly. The cold edge in his eyes receded, replaced by something warmer. More human.

"Mother, I'll be outside. Take whatever time you need with them. If they cause any trouble..."

"I know." Eisha smiled. "I'll call for you."

Northern nodded and walked toward the door. But just before he reached it, he paused and looked back at Peacemaker. The frost had begun to recede from the walls, but the chill in his gaze remained.

"By the way. Your name—'Peacemaker.' It's a good name. Strong. Meaningful." His eyes glinted with something between amusement and threat. "Would be a shame if someone took it permanently, wouldn't it?"

He didn't wait for an answer.

The door closed behind him with a soft click that somehow echoed like a thunderclap in the silence.

In the wake of his departure, Peacemaker remained on his knees, blood still dripping from his face, staring at the closed door. The frost was melting now, leaving wet trails down the metal walls like the room itself was weeping.

Nine hundred years. Nine hundred years of building power, influence, and fear—and it had taken less than an hour for all of it to crumble.

'This is my life now,' he realized, the thought settling into him like ice into his bones. 'However long it lasts.'

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