Permeus entered their royal dining room with measured steps just in case Imara was still in the mood for a fight. They had not spoken since their little squabble in his study the previous day. By the time he returned to their bedroom later that night, she was already feigning sleep, and by the time he woke up, he was all alone in that bed.

  She really is going to make me wait for pleasure. Isn’t she?

  Regardless of her evasion of him, he had slept pretty well last night. The damn nightmare did not come to him, which he hoped meant that his sister had taken to the fact that whatever joke she was playing on him was not funny.

  He knew he would still have to confront her for sending it to him in the first place, but at least he could now delay it. Once he entered and saw Imara’s benevolent face glowing with a smile, he finally relaxed, walking at the pace he usually did.

  The vast chamber they called their dining room gleamed with polished marble and intricate tapestries depicting the creation of Titania, as every room in his castle did. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow across the table, where his family already sat waiting.

  His twin daughters, both five years old with their mother’s striking green eyes and his curly light-brown hair, perked up at his arrival.

  They wore matching dresses of pale blue silk, their dark locks neatly braided with silver ribbons. Beside them, Imara sat resplendent in a gown of emerald that stressed her pale complexion.

  “Father!” the girls exclaimed in unison as Permeus approached.

  He smiled, momentarily setting aside his preoccupations, and placed a gentle kiss on each of their foreheads before taking his seat at the head of the table.

  “Are you prepared for the meeting, Father?” asked Kara, her eyes bright with curiosity.

  “The council meeting?” Permeus replied, signaling to a servant who promptly filled his goblet with honeyed Mystia wine. “I am always prepared, little one.”

  “Will you argue with Uncle Darkeus like last time?” Amara questioned with a slight furrow in her brow.

  “More like every time,” Kara corrected her

  It was no shock to Permeus that his five-year-old daughters were well aware of the strife that existed between him and his brother Darkeus. In fact, there was strife between Permeus and almost everybody on that council. It was simply Darkeus the one most vocal about his grievances, even if Permeus did not exactly understand what those were.

  “No, Amara, they will discuss important matters of the realm,” Imara said, trying to deflect the question. “Won’t you Permeus?”

  Permeus chuckled, reaching for a piece of bread.

  “The council meetings are quite celebratory, especially this fiftieth anniversary. We really have had nothing to discuss, and I believe this year to be the same.”

  Imara raised an eyebrow, her fork poised delicately over her plate.

  “Is that because the Origins have done a commendable job guarding the realms?”

  “It is because,” Permeus said, taking a sip of his wine, “the world does not need the Origins as guardians.”

  A flicker of concern crossed Imara’s face, though she remained silent.

  Permeus gazed into the middle distance, his mind wandering back to the inception of the council. He had originally envisioned it as a scholarly forum, a place where the Origins could discuss the intriguing concept of an origin of origins.

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  The shards he studied suggested such a possibility even if he had not had them. Despite that, he had sought intellectual companions in this pursuit, and where better to find some than his own siblings?

  When he had approached Helus with the idea, he had hoped for an endorsement from one of the most respected of the Origins. With Helus’ backing, surely others would see value in such philosophical inquiry. But Helus had other ideas.

  “A council is indeed necessary,” Helus had said fifty years ago in the crimson halls of his Red Hel, his residential palace. “But not in your “academic” discourse. We must coordinate our governance, establish protocols, and protect our creations.”

  Permeus remembered feeling the idea slipping from his grasp as Helus transformed it into an administrative body.

  This hurt Permeus a lot since administration was simply something he had always instinctively sought to avoid. In fact, he had been avoiding it for the past century. The only aspect that kept Permeus involved was Helus’ insistence that the meetings be held in Titania.

  “Your realm is the embodiment of immortality,” Helus had explained.

  “What better symbol of our eternal vigilance? Besides, it will show the others what a capable leader you are.”

  Only later did Permeus realize the diplomatic trap Helus had laid. Hosting the grand meetings without taking an active role in governance only further tarnished his reputation among the other Origins, who already viewed him as capricious.

  “My siblings misunderstand the nature of creation,” Permeus mused aloud, drawing puzzled looks from his daughters. “Origins created, not to govern. If the others trusted their people as I trust the titans, there would be no need for this administrative charade.”

  Imara gave him a pointed look, silently reminding him of their young audience. The twins exchanged glances, sensing the undercurrent of their father’s discontent.

  Permeus noticed their confusion and softened his expression. “But celebrations are always welcome And you shall both have new gowns for the occasion.”

  This immediately brightened the girls’ mood, and they began chattering excitedly about colors and fabrics.

  They hadn’t yet been deep in discussion when the heavy doors of the dining hall swung open, and Germaine entered, his silver skin gleaming in the torchlight. He stood tall and solemn, his short grey hair neatly combed, and his light blue eyes alert. The long blue robe he wore bore the insignia of Titania’s chief steward.

  “King Permeus,” Germaine bowed deeply, his voice resonant and formal.

  “Old Friend,” Permeus acknowledged with a nod. “Rise, please. What brings you to our meal?”

  Germaine straightened, offering respectful bows to Imara and the twins.

  “Queen Imara, young princesses, your High Steward apologize for the interruption.”

  “It is no interruption,” Imara assured him, ever gracious. “You are free to join us if you like?”

  “I’m afraid I cannot, My Queen,” Germaine replied. “There is a matter that requires King Permeus’ attention.”

  Permeus sighed, setting down his goblet. “There are many matters in a realm this size, old friend. Surely it can wait until later?”

  “Not this one, Your Majesty,” Germaine’s voice remained even, but there was an unusual tension in his stance. “Something... has been discovered in the woods.”

  Permeus gestured dismissively. “There are many things in the woods.”

  “Not like the one we’ve found, Your Majesty.” The gravity in Germaine’s tone was unmistakable.

  The twins glanced at each other, their earlier excitement fading. Amara, the more timid of the two, clutched her sister’s hand beneath the table.

  “Father, should we be scared?” Kara asked, her curiosity now tinged with apprehension.

  Permeus flashed them a reassuring smile.

  “Of course not little one. Germaine can handle anything our realm produces, can’t you, Germaine?”

  “In this instance, Your Majesty,” Germaine said slowly, “Your assistance is required, a reconsideration of your position thus might be in order.”

  A heavy silence fell over the dining hall. Even the servants stilled, sensing the unusual gravity of the exchange.

  “Are you serious?” Permeus asked, his brow furrowing.

  Germaine gave a single solemn nod.

  Permeus pushed back his chair and stood.

  “Very well.” He turned to his family. “Forgive me, my loves. It seems duty calls.”

  “You rarely answer that call,” Imara said, easing the tension in the room

  “Well, I am answering it now Ima, aren’t I?” Permeus responded, giving his wife a gentle smile as payment for her jab.

  He leaned down to kiss each of his daughters on the forehead once more, then captured Imara’s lips in a brief but tender kiss.

  “I shall return as soon as possible.” He promised.

  “Be careful,” Imara whispered, her green eyes betraying her concern.

  “Always,” Permeus assured her with a wink.

  As Permeus joined Germaine at the doorway, he gestured for the titan to lead the way. “Show me this thing that has you so concerned, old friend.”