? Algraves ?
The night had thinned into a pale gray hush. Dawn crept over the city, soft light brushing the rooftops, stretching long shadows across the cobbled street. The four children trudged the last stretch, weary but unbroken, until the palace rose before them.
It was no gilded fairy-tale castle, but a stronghold of stone — wide and commanding, its wings stretching broad across the grounds, tall windows dark in the dim light. Turrets crowned its corners like silent sentries, and the great iron gates glimmered faintly with dew.
Dante gave a low whistle, shoving his hands into his pockets, his eyes glinting with mischief and something sourer beneath. “Some folks don’t even live on the same earth as us.”
Alex, beside him, slowed. His breath caught, eyes lifting in quiet awe at the sheer weight of it — not just the stone, but the certainty it projected, the kind of power that never had to prove itself.
The gates stirred with sudden motion. Two guards, immaculate in their posture, advanced toward them. Their uniforms were dark wool coats, collar buttoned high, brass buttons polished bright at chest and cuff. On their caps gleamed the Algraves crest. Leather belts held short sabres at their sides, boots leathered and shined. Their voices broke the still air, formal but edged with disbelief. “My Lord Casper! My Lady Emily!”
Casper’s reply was curt, restless, every inch the impatient heir. “Open the gates.”
Emily, who had been timid before, straightened. Her voice, though soft, carried surprising composure. “Make way for these boys. They are the ones who saved us.”
The guards’ gazes lingered on Dante and Alex, suspicious yet measuring, before the elder of them inclined his head. “Stand aside. Let them through.”
Another guard called up toward the walls, his voice ringing clear in the morning stillness. “Send word at once to Lady Camilia and Lord Lucian! Their lordships’ children have returned. Safe and sound!”
The iron gates groaned as they opened, and the world of stone and privilege welcomed them in.
Emily fell into step between Dante and Alex while Casper dashed ahead like a child eager to be home.
They passed through immaculate gardens, where hedges had been trimmed into crisp, geometric patterns, every angle betraying a gardener’s careful hand. Marble statues, figures of statesmen, scholars, and saints, stood sentinel among the greenery. The air carried the faint fragrance of hothouse flowers, cultivated blooms rare to the city streets, their sweetness almost unreal against the lingering chill of dawn.
At last, the children crossed the threshold of the palace.
The grand hall unfolded before them, high-ceilinged, paneled in dark wood polished to a soft sheen, its walls lined with portraits of solemn ancestors in heavy gilt frames. Tall windows admitted the first light of morning, which spilled across a floor of veined stone laid in precise patterns. Every detail spoke not of luxury for its own sake, but of lineage, permanence, and power.
There, standing poised at the far end, were a lady and a man, in their mid-thirties. Their figures composed yet unmistakably tense. Casper broke first, sprinting to the man, who lowered himself with rare abandon, receiving his son in a firm, protective embrace. Emily, more hesitant at first, hurried into her mother’s arms, burying her face against the silks she had longed for.
Lucien’s voice, grave yet softened by relief, carried across the hall. “Welcome home, Casper, Emily."
Camilia’s tone trembled despite her composure. “My sweet children… you cannot know the torment of these hours without you.”
Alex stood apart, his stomach twisting with feelings he could not name.
“They would not hurry up to meet them at the gates,” he thought bitterly. “They stood here, waiting for their stolen children to be carried back inside.” Alex swallowed hard. Maybe it was some kind of noble pride, but all he felt was the weight of their hypocrisy—negotiating in the shadows, and now embracing their children as if nothing had been risked. Pity welled up for the twins. Would they ever learn the truth? The darker truths? And if they did, would it crush them the way Vince’s words about his father had once crushed him?
The boy forced the sight into memory — a brand to sear him. A flicker of envy crept in, not for the palace or its gardens, but for that simple moment: children in their parents’ arms, welcomed home. He wished, with an ache that hollowed him, that he might one day know the same — to return to the mountains, to Gilbert and Elena, and not to an empty flat where each evening he dreaded finding Dominick’s coat and fedora hanging in the hall.
Lucien stood up, his eyes steady and commanding as he approached Alex. He offered a dignified salute, a nobleman’s gesture heavy with meaning. “I'm forever indebted, son.”
Alex’s reply was stiff, carefully measured. “M-my pleasure.”
“I’m Lucien. Head of the Algraves family. You little gentlemen are honorable guests of ours.”
The living room was broad but not ostentatious, paneled in dark wood with tall windows draped in velvet, the faint light of dawn seeping through. A low fire smoldered in the hearth, more for presence than warmth. Heavy rugs softened the stone beneath, and portraits of long-dead Algraves watched in silence from gilded frames.
Lucien and Camilia took their places side by side upon a settee of carved oak and rich upholstery. Emily folded herself close to her mother, while Casper sat beside his father, restless even in relief. Alex and Dante were offered seats across from them, the breadth of a polished table between, while a guard stood at attention near the door.
After a few minutes of quiet introductions, Alex and Dante had already sipped their tea, the warmth lingering in their hands as they tried to match the measured calm of the room. The aroma and taste were foreign, but familiar enough to ground them in the strange, ordered world around them.
Lucien inclined his head toward the boys, his tone firm but not unkind.
“Alex. Dante. Tell me — by what means did you come to rescue my children?”
The two exchanged a look. Alex gave the smallest nod — he would speak first.
“I was passing by when I saw Emily climb from a crate guarded by men. I couldn't turn away seeing her like that.”
Dante shifted forward, adding quickly, “I was searching for Alex that night — I’d been everywhere in the industrial quarter. Then I heard gunfire. I ran toward it and found him, with the twins… and two corpses of the men that guarded them. I almost got shot myself.”
"My goodness," Camilia murmured, hand resting lightly on her cheek. "That must have been dreadful for all of you."
Emily burst in, eyes bright. “Mom! You should have seen how the brown-haired boy calmed me down—”
Her words stumbled as Camilia’s voice cut gently across hers, cold in its precision.
“Emily. You will remember to address our guest by his first name. It is not fitting for a young lady to speak otherwise.”
The spark in Emily’s tone guttered at once, her shoulders drawing in. Her voice, small again, carried only apology.
“I ... beg your pardon.”
Camilia’s lips curved, satisfied. “Good. Now, what were you saying?”
Emily lowered her gaze, fumbling. “I… forgot.”
Alex and Dante exchanged subtle glances, their eyes tracing the rigid posture of the adults across the grand hall. One might have expected frantic embraces, muffled sobs, a desperate clutching at their children—yet Lucien and Camilia remained seated, composed and measured. Relief was there, yes, worry too, but it was restrained, disciplined, as if each emotion had been filtered through a strict code of decorum.
Lucien inclined his head, his voice calm, measured. “Where do you two reside?”
Dante answered smoothly, “Western side of the slums, Sir.”
Lucien studied the boys: the weariness in their eyes, the stray bangs falling across Alex’s forehead, the slight yawns tugging at their lids. “It is quite distant from here. And you both appear fatigued. Might I offer you lodging here for the night? If not, I can arrange a carriage to see you safely home. I understand that your parents or caretakers might be worried about you.”
Dante’s eyes narrowed, weighing the offer. "If he drops us home, he will know where we live... not sure if Dominick will be happy about that..." Mischief twinkled in his gaze once more. “Ah, that would be splendid ! I confess, I’ve already taken a liking to this place! I would love to stay a night. And don't worry — No parents, no caretakers.”
Alex, meanwhile, stifled a yawn, his mind racing. "Should I talk to him about Dominick? Ask him for help?"
"No... I heard enough stories and witnessed enough to tell that this is not the best move. The mob's roots might as well have reached here. For all I know, this man can be an ally of the Dons or Dominick himself. If I talk nonsense, my parents and even Dante may be in trouble. This is enough for today."
"And I'm too exhausted to even think..." Finally, Alex nodded. “I accept your invitation, Sir.”
Casper’s voice remained wary. “Father! I still do not trust them!”
Lucien’s expression softened. “You need not concern yourself, Casper. You are within the palace walls. The guards are vigilant. What occurred was regrettable, but not without resolution.”
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He leaned slightly forward, his tone firm but gentle. “For now, you are all weary. I shall have the guards attend to you — all of you, Alex and Dante included — and see that you are safe, and any injuries properly tended.”
He straightened, addressing the room with quiet authority. “Tomorrow, we shall discuss the matter in full: the kidnapping, its implications, and how we may properly commend these brave youths.”
Turning to Emily, he added with a rare warmth, “You have guests your own age at last. Tomorrow, you may play and become acquainted.”
Emily’s eyes brightened at the approval.
At that moment, a tall, stone-faced guard approached Alex and Dante. His deep, resonant voice cut through the quiet. “This way.”
The two boys straightened instantly, fatigue forgotten, flinching as the weight of his presence snapped them alert.
Alex and Dante had been checked over. Alex’s palms were bandaged; Dante had nothing. After a small meal, they followed the stone-faced guard down the long hall toward the guest rooms, the man’s eyes never leaving the two boys—a constant presence that made Dante uneasy.
“Something wrong, Dante?” The guard’s deep voice rumbled from behind them.
Dante held his gaze for a moment. “Nothing. Just… want to reach the room as soon as I can. I'm sick of these never ending halls. No offense.”
The guard inclined his head, and shortly they arrived. “Here it is.”
The guest room was spacious, but not overly ornate—enough for an important household in the city. Two beds, neatly made with thick covers, stood opposite each other. Beside each bed, neatly folded, were clothes for the children, Casper's—simple, comfortable nightwear. Alex and Dante changed into them before climbing in.
Dante practically leapt onto one, arms loose, burying his face into the cushion with a contented sigh. “A beeee-ed,” he murmured, like a cat curling into a familiar lap.
Alex removed his boots and lay on the other bed, stretching his legs before letting his head sink into the pillow.
“If you need anything, knock or call,” the guard said quietly, then closed the door behind him. “Sleep well.”
Dante lifted his face to Alex, expression serious. Alex understood immediately: the guards were right outside. No talk of Dominick or the mob until they were safely out of earshot.
And with that, both boys drifted off, the rising sun blocked by thick curtains, leaving the room in a quiet, golden half-light. Exhaustion claimed Alex almost instantly. The pillow embraced his head, the bandaged palms resting at his sides, and within moments, the room dissolved into the haze of sleep.
The boy found himself back on the farm of his youth, remembering a lesson about envy of the wealth of others.
5 years ago
Montivara Mountains
Eight-year-old Alex, sleeves rolled to his elbows, hands calloused and raw from the morning’s work, dragged a heavy sack of feed across the dusty yard. The sun beat down on his back, sweat running into his eyes, and his small boots scuffed the soil with every step. Hard work. Endless repetition. Every muscle ached, yet the chores demanded more.
A frown creased his young face, irritation simmering.
From the porch, Elena looked up from kneading dough, flour dusted across her arms. She wiped her hands on her apron, watching him.
“Alex? What’s wrong?”
He stomped the dirt, glaring. “How come our farm is so small, Mother?”
Elena raised a brow, setting the dough aside. “Small?”
“Uncle Ruth’s is bigger. His sons mocked me. I want a bigger one.”
Instead of scolding, she smiled faintly, shaking her head. “You boys. Always comparing. Who has the bigger house, the finer horse, the richer land.”
“But it’s not fair!” Alex snapped, cheeks flushed.
She crouched beside him, cupping his face and giving his cheek a playful pinch. For a moment she only studied him—the boy growing faster than she was ready for, still so small when angry. She pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. But Alex’s eyes stayed on the ground, stubborn, unsatisfied.
Elena sighed softly, though her smile never left. Her voice came low, warm. “My dear boy. There is no end to what people desire.”
Alex tilted his head, frowning. “I don’t understand.”
“Let me finish.” She smoothed his hair back. “No man ever says, ‘I have enough.’ A man dreams of a house. He gets the house—then he wants a garden. He gets the garden—he wants a second floor, to see it better. Give him that, and he wants a bigger garden still, because his neighbor’s is wider.”
Her eyes softened. “Desire never ends, Alex. That can be good, but it can also turn into greed. Ambition builds—but greed devours.”
She touched his chest with her flour-dusted fingers, leaving a pale print. “Me? I want nothing but you. My sweet Alex, growing into a man.”
Then she pointed to the tilled soil, the patched fences, the animals grazing. “Look at your hands. Your sweat is here. Your effort feeds this place. This farm lives because of you. That makes you part of something greater than size”
She straightened, nodding toward the fields. “So when Ruth’s boys laugh, you tell them this: ‘I don’t need the biggest farm. This one has me. Every seed, every furrow, every fence—it’s mine."
"Next time, stand tall and say: I make this farm.’”
Something flickered in Alex’s young eyes. The envy loosened its grip, replaced by something quieter, stronger. He stood taller, as though the farm itself rose with him.
A little past noon, sunlight filtered softly through the curtains. The boys had finally slept—eight hours of uninterrupted rest. Alex stirred first, stretching beneath the fine sheets, thinking it might have been the best sleep he’d ever had, in the best bed he’d ever known.
Dante was still sprawled across his own bed, back turned to Alex, lost in deep slumber.
Alex dressed up, walked over, stifling a yawn. “Dante. Wake up.”
Dante muttered without turning, “Who... are you?”
Alex frowned. “I’m… Alex?”
“I don’t know you,” Dante said, voice thick with sleep. “Get out of my house.”
Alex blinked. “Your house?”
“I disown you and the boss.", A yawn. "Let me sleep in this bed forever.”
Alex laughed. “What happened to our promise. That we are brothers and all that.”
"Who said that?"
"You."
“Well... not anymore,” Dante buried his face in the pillow. "My only family... now is this beeeed."
Still grinning, Alex turned at the sound of a knock.
“It’s Casper,” came the familiar voice from outside.
Dante’s mood dropped at once, and he dragged himself upright. “Great. The annoying rich boy.”
“Come on in,” Alex called.
The door opened, and Casper stepped inside. “How long are you two planning to keep sleeping?”
“We just woke up,” Alex said.
“My father wants a word,” Casper replied, “and Emily is restless to spend some time with you.”
“Where is she?” Dante asked, rubbing at his eyes.
“Outside, of course. She wouldn’t come into the guest rooms with you boys sleeping here. Manners. Come on, then. I’ll give you a minute,” Casper said, already stepping back into the corridor. "And your nightwears are inside out."
Alex froze mid-motion, looking down at himself—face reddening instantly.
From the bed, Dante stretched lazily, completely unbothered. “Inside out, huh? Well, better than outside in.”
Alex shot him a glare, cheeks still pink, before shoving his arms properly into his sleeves.
The door closed behind Casper, leaving the boys with the weight of what was to come—and the question of what sort of conversation awaited them with Lucian.
The gardens looked different than they had the night before—the shadows gone, every hedge and statue sharp in the sun. Lucian and Camilia sat on a bench, Emily close to her mother’s side as always. A small box rested on the table before them. Emily waved as Casper, Dante, and Alex approached.
Casper slipped into his usual place beside his father. Dante noticed the repetition; Alex too saw it, how even the simple act of sitting seemed rehearsed, a family bound by habit as much as by blood. He and Dante took the bench across from them, the box between.
“Alex. Dante,” Lucian said, steady as ever. “I wish to compensate you for yesterday.” He pushed the box forward.
Dante lifted the lid. Inside, gold coins gleamed in tight, heavy stacks. His eyes widened, the glow of the treasure flashing across his face. Alex leaned in, equally stunned—it was the first time either of them had seen so much wealth gathered in one place.
Dante closed the lid with a soft thud. “Thanks, but no. We didn’t save them for gold.”
Alex turned to him, studying his face, and a smile tugged at his mouth—proud, quiet. There was no jest in Dante’s voice, no trick in his tone. He meant it.
Dante contiuned, “If we wanted money, we wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with.”
“What he said, Mr. Lucian,” Alex echoed.
Camilia and Lucian’s eyes widened as they looked at the boys. After a moment, Camilia managed a graceful, approving smile.
Emily’s eyes were wide with awe as she observed the boys, her admiration shining clearly.
Casper’s brow furrowed. “Father, isn’t that… disrespectful? To turn down a gift personally offered from you?”
Camilia’s gaze met his, serene but firm. “Not at all, Casper. We rarely see this kind of integrity nowadays. It would have been rude if they had accepted without thought, but Dante and Alex… they acted rightly.”
Casper made a small, disgruntled sound. “Tch.”
Lucian’s voice was steady and calm, yet warm. “I like you two. Polite, brave… and above all, honorable. Tell me—what do you do in life?”
“We don't go to school. I work in a shop,” Alex replied. “On Sundays, I volunteer at a doctor’s clinic.”
“Me?” Dante added, shrugging. “I bounce around—shine shoes, deliver journals… nothing steady.”
Lucian inclined his head thoughtfully. “I see. I am working to improve this city. I know not all children have the chance to attend education or live as most should. One day, I hope to change that.”
He leaned slightly forward, eyes earnest. “Then… may I ask a favor of you both?”
Alex nodded, and Dante’s gaze narrowed, alert.
Lucian continued. “Could you keep what happened… a secret?”
A hush fell over the group, the weight of the request hanging in the air.
Lucian’s tone remained even, but carried gravity. “We, the Algraves family, are an important house—not just in this city, but in the kingdom. Emily and Casper were kidnapped while visiting a private tutor. Men came, disguised as police officers. One moment they were studying… the next, unconscious.”
Alex and Dante listened intently.
Lucian went on. “It was executed with scary precision. Even our guards outside noticed nothing. The uniforms were clean—legitimate in every detail. The men responsible had help from someone inside the law.”
Camilia spoke softly, yet firmly. “Casper and Emily are children. They are not the public faces of the house, yet they are conspicuous due to their age and the fact that they are twins. Still, we managed to suppress their absences in the past days. No one knows what happened, except for the kidnappers and… us here. If word spreads, greedy noble houses may perceive weakness. Other attempts could follow, possibly worse than kidnapping.”
Alex frowned. “What about the police? They’ve been doing inspections recently. It looked like they were looking for the twins.”
Camilia’s expression remained calm. “They don’t know either. We handled the matter by reporting suspicious movements... So the constables themselves didn't know what they were looking for. If they had discovered Casper and Emily, the information would have reached us before the newspapers—or anyone else—and we would still have kept it a secret. Of course, we won't be mentioning anything about two either.”
Lucian’s gaze shifted to Alex and Dante. “We ask your word. That you will speak of none of this to anyone. Your discretion… may very well prevent further tragedy.”
Dante and Alex remained quiet, weighed down by the gravity of the words, their young shoulders burdened by concerns far beyond their years.
Lucian’s voice softened, tinged with regret. “I am ashamed to lay such matters upon you young men.”
Dante tugged off his cap and scratched at his hair. “Mr. Lucian… you needn’t worry. Even if we blabbed, no one would believe that a couple of strays rescued your children. And don’t fret—we won’t.”
Alex nodded, his mind swirling with thoughts too numerous to voice.
Lucian inclined his head. “Good. Thank you. Truly.” He rose to his full height, voice firm yet warm. “From this day forward, you are always honorable guests within these walls. I welcome you as friends of Casper and Emily, as if you were my own sons.”
Camilia turned toward Emily, graceful as ever. “And now, we leave you in their care.” Her gaze rested on the girl beside her. “They are yours to guide.”
Emily nodded eagerly, restless with anticipation. Casper, however, crossed his arms, a frown tugging at his features, clearly unsatisfied.
Lucian and Camilia walked a few paces away, voices low, distant enough that the children could not hear.
“So… what do you think?” Camilia asked softly, her gaze fixed ahead.
Lucian allowed himself a small, rare smile. “Thank God, Camilia. Truly… I am grateful. The Veraccis have no leverage now. No political favors to criminals—or to anyone. That is our way.”
A flicker of unusual sadness crossed his face. “We didn’t lose anything… but I almost did.” His eyes lingered briefly on the twins. “I almost lost everything.”
“That’s the burden of politics, Lucian,” Camilia replied softly. “You were the one who bore the weight of those negotiations, as head of the family. But you know me—no power, no status, is worth more than our children’s lives.”
Lucian shook his head, voice low, almost a whisper. “If Dante or Alex had accepted the box, or shown even a hint of hesitation or dishonesty… that would have been a signal. A sign they might talk, or sell what they know. If that had happened… I was ready to take measures...”
Camilia’s lips curved in a faint, understanding smile. “But you needn’t worry. Casper confirmed that Dante was even shot at while the henchmen were about to seize Alex. We can trust them.”
Lucian’s expression softened. “I am… so glad that such children still exist. Even here, in this city. Even in the dirty slums.”
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NUCLEUS
THE DUST OF MOON
?? A Space Opera Where Sexuality Meets Cosmic Drama
?? In 2295, humanity has expanded across the Solar System, but ancient terrors have awakened with them.
Four destinies collide:
- Lorna Weiss, a psionic operative with the Terra Alliance;
- Zhi-Xin Wu, a programmer fleeing the Imperium's grip;
- Jabari Adomako, an ambitious Scarab pilot from the Emerald Directorate;
- and Dilinur Altai, a conflicted Conjurer serving Imperial masters.
As these rivals, potential allies—and sometimes lovers—cross paths, they discover the Moondust Crystal, an artifact with the power to control mutated monsters known as Radi-Mons.
Rich with diverse cultures ??????, complex relationships ????, and spicy cosmic romance ???? that'll blow your mind (among other things).
New chapters released on Tuesdays and Saturdays.
Volumes 1 to 3 complete, 300K words ready for reading.
2 more volumes in the works.