Chapter 3: A Royal Invitation

The morning light filtered through the tall, arched windows of the Kim mansion, casting long, dusty beams across the dining table. Usually, breakfast was a riot of clanking silverware, Taehyung’s morning chatter, and the rhythmic sound of Seokjin hummed while flipping pancakes. But today, the silence was heavy, a physical weight that pressed against their chests.

Seokjin pottered around the kitchen with practiced ease, but his movements were mechanical. Even the steam rising from the coffee seemed to hang motionless in the air.

The mahogany table, which usually felt warm and inviting, now felt like a vast, icy divide. It was the kind of silence that precedes a storm—unnatural and suffocating.

Finally, the tension snapped. Hoseok pushed his plate away, the screech of the chair legs against the stone floor sounding like a gunshot.

“Are we really just going to sit here and let the clock run out?” Hoseok’s voice was uncharacteristically sharp, stripped of its usual melodic warmth.

“Are we going to give him a response, or are we just waiting for that pendant to turn into a common pebble?”

“Hobi-ah,” Seokjin said softly, not looking up from his coffee. “Tone it down.”

“No, Hyung,” Hoseok countered, leaning forward.

“A prince—a literal deity—stood in our living room and told us his soul was fractured. He didn’t come here with a royal decree or an army. He came with a request. We can’t just ignore the gravity of that.”

Yoongi, who had been staring at a knot in the wood of the table, finally looked up. His cat-like eyes were dark with calculation.

“That’s exactly the problem, Hobi. Someone—or something—managed to reach out and break a god. If they could do that to him, what do you think they’ll do to a coven of ‘rebellious’ magics like us? We aren't just talking about a political favor; we’re talking about a death warrant. We should think about this with our heads, not our hearts.”

Seokjin sighed, rubbing his temples. “Fine. We aren't getting anywhere like this. Let’s take a vote, but I want reasons. Real, grounded reasons.”

The air grew even thinner as they went around the table.Taehyung, Jimin, and Hoseok were the first to speak.

“I’m a 'Yes',” Taehyung said, his voice unusually small.

“He looked... lonely. Not the kind of lonely you feel when you’re alone, but the kind that comes from being the only person who knows how much you’re hurting. If we have the power to help him, and we don't, then what are we even doing with our lives?”

Jimin nodded, his expression masterfully composed. “I agree. And logically, Yoongi-hyung, if this threat is powerful enough to harm a deity, then the Royal Family is the only shield between that threat and the rest of the world. If the Crown falls, or if Jungkook-ssi is unmade before his coronation, we’re all just sheep waiting for the wolf. Joining him isn't just about him—it’s about our own survival.”

Seokjin and Yoongi remained firm on 'No'.

“I have to protect this coven,” Seokjin said, his voice thick with the burden of leadership. “My first loyalty is to the five of you. I cannot, in good conscience, lead you into a war against an invisible enemy within the Royal Court. The risk to our family is absolute.”

All eyes turned to Namjoon, who sat with his chin resting on his interlaced fingers. He looked at the obsidian box sitting in the center of the table as if it held the secrets of the universe. “I... I can’t decide,” he admitted, his voice strained.

“Jimin is right about the systemic risk, but Jin-hyung is right about the immediate danger. We are choosing between a slow burn and a sudden explosion.”

The debate raged for another hour. Jimin argued with the precision of a lawyer, pointing out that Jungkook had specifically sought them out because they were "unbuyable."

Finally, after a long look shared between Seokjin and Yoongi, the eldest let out a long, defeated breath.

“Fine,” Seokjin conceded, though his eyes remained wary.

“We agree to help. But with stipulations. We are consultants, not soldiers. We go in on our terms, and if I feel the danger to this coven is becoming too great, we pull out immediately. No arguments.”

A collective breath of relief swept through the room. Taehyung didn't waste a second; he scrambled into the living room and returned with the obsidian box. He opened it carefully, the pendant inside glowing with a faint, pulsing violet light that seemed to sense their proximity.

“So... what now?” Taehyung asked, looking at the swirling galaxy trapped in the glass. “Do we write a letter? Do I talk to it?”

Namjoon stood up, moving to the head of the table.

“Nothing so mundane. The Prince said it was tied to his star, Nocthra. It responds to intent. If we all place a hand on the box and send a synchronized pulse of our magic into the pendant, it will act as a beacon.

It’s a signature—a collective ‘Yes’ that he will feel the moment it happens.”

The six of them gathered around the small box. One by one, they reached out, their fingers brushing against the cool velvet and the cold, vibrating chain.

“On three,” Namjoon whispered.

As they released a combined surge of their mana—earthy, bright, sharp, and deep—the pendant flared with a blinding gold light. For a heartbeat, the room was filled with the sound of a distant, melodic chime, and then the light settled into a steady, rhythmic glow.

The answer was sent.

The bridge was built. And somewhere in the palace, a Prince would feel the stars in his soul burn just a little bit brighter.

The palace gardens were a masterpiece of celestial horticulture, a sprawling expanse where the air was perpetually sweet with the scent of moonlight lilies and jasmine.

Jungkook sat on a white marble bench, surrounded by a sea of flowers that shouldn't exist in the same climate—fire-orchids from the southern deserts blooming comfortably beside frost-roses from the northern peaks, all sustained by the palace’s humming subterranean wards.

Suddenly, a sharp, rhythmic throb pulsed against his chest, echoing the beat of his own heart. A slow, triumphant grin spread across his face. He reached under the collar of his silk shirt, pulling out a pendant identical to the one he had left with the Kim Coven.

It was no longer a dormant stone; it was alive, swirling with a fierce, golden-violet radiance that cast a glow up into his chin.

They really aren't indecisive, are they? he thought, a sense of relief washing over him. He had expected days of agonizing deliberation, perhaps even a flat refusal. To agree so quickly to what was essentially a suicide mission spoke volumes about the fire in their blood.

Beside him, Ytris was meticulously tending to a patch of iridescent lunar-bells. She paused, her gardening shears hovering over a silver stem, as she caught the reflection of the pendant’s light in the dew. She looked up, her expression a mix of shock and skepticism.

"They said yes? This fast?" she asked, rising to her feet and dusting off her embroidered apron.

"I expected them to at least wait until the week was up. It’s not every day you sign your own death warrant before breakfast."

"I'm surprised too," Jungkook admitted, watching the colors dance within the glass.

"But I think they see the bigger picture. Or maybe they’re just as crazy as Rylene says they are. Either way, they aren't bad people. I need to arrange a proper sit-down with them to—"

He was cut off by the sharp, melodic chime of his phone. He pulled it from his pocket, his eyebrows shooting up as he saw the caller ID: Yugyeom.

"Hah," Jungkook chuckled, showing the screen to Ytris. "He must’ve had a vision."

He swiped to answer, his voice immediately softening. "Yug, it’s been a while."

"Kookieeee!" Yugyeom’s voice exploded through the speaker, brimming with an infectious, chaotic energy that seemed to vibrate the very air.

"How are you? Are you eating? Are you sleeping? Or are you still brooding in dark corners like a dramatic gargoyle?"

Jungkook laughed, the sound genuine and bright.

"I'm fine, Yug. Truly. Are you still in the city, or did you vanish into the woods again?"

"Yeah, I’m here. Actually, I’ve been waiting for you to find your spine and call me," Yugyeom replied, his tone shifting into something slightly more knowing.

"Did you have a vision?"

"You know the answer to that, babe, so why even ask? The stars were particularly loud last night. They kept screaming your name," Yugyeom said, though there was an underlying layer of seriousness beneath the teasing.

Witches like Yugyeom were a breed apart. While vampires and fae had lifespans dictated by their species, a witch’s longevity was tied directly to their raw power.

Yugyeom came from a line so ancient and potent that his years already stretched far beyond his youthful appearance.

He was a high-tier seer, a rarity in a community that was notoriously reclusive and protective of their secrets.

To even meet a witch was considered an honor; to be best friends with one was a miracle Jungkook never took for granted. Jungkook knew that the fates must have been smiling on him for him to have been able to meet yugyeom’s halmeoni and through her yugyeom.

He actually didn’t know much about any other witch other than yugyeom.

It was an intimate and sacred act for a witch to share their affinity with someone outside of their community and the fact that yugyeom had told him? Well that had forged a bond so deep that it was unbreakable.

"Hah," Jungkook sighed, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Since you already know I’m about to dive into the deep end, why don't you come over tomorrow? I need a clear head, and you're the only one who can talk sense into me."

"Check your schedule, Your Highness," Yugyeom teased. "But okay. Shoot me a text an hour before you want me there. I’ll make an appearance."

"Thanks, Yug. It means a lot. Love ya."

"Love ya too, Kookie. Take care of yourself, hmm? Don't let the shadows swallow you whole before I get there."

Jungkook ended the call, feeling a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the sun. Talking to Yugyeom always felt like coming up for air.

Despite the casual 'love ya,' there was no romantic tension—Yugyeom was soul-bonded to a coven of witches who were as protective of him as he was of them. They were family in the truest sense.

Ytris watched him, her arms crossed as she leaned against a trellis of climbing roses.

"So, he had a vision, huh? I assume that means things are about to get complicated."

"Incredibly," Jungkook replied, tucking the pulsing pendant back beneath his shirt.

"He’ll be here tomorrow. Between a Coven of rebellious magics and a Seer who sees too much, I think the people who tried to steal my stars are finally going to have a very bad year."

Ytris hummed, a small, rare smile gracing her lips.

"I’ll tell the kitchens to prepare for a guest. A witch's appetite is almost as legendary as their magic."

Early the next morning, as the first tendrils of dawn began to lick the edges of the horizon, Hoseok made his way back to the Kim mansion. He was glowing with the light sheen of a post-workout sweat, his Dragonic aura humming contentedly from the exertion. As he reached the gate, something caught his eye—a stark, ivory contrast against the weathered bronze of their mailbox.

The mailbox hadn't been in use for nearly a century; the coven usually received communications via magical conduits or direct messengers. Yet, there it was.

Not only was a letter sitting inconspicuously inside, but the box itself had been meticulously cleaned of decades of dust and cobwebs, as if the sender refused to let their message touch anything less than pristine.

Hoseok snatched the envelope and hurried inside. "Living room! Everyone! Now!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the quiet halls.

It didn't take long for the others to stumble out of their rooms. Taehyung was the most pitiful sight, draped in an oversized silk robe, his hair a nest of silver-blonde tangles.

"Hyunggg," he whined, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Why wake us this early? Is the house on fire?"

"We got a letter, Tae. And I’d bet a hundred bucks it’s from our deity prince," Hoseok said, waving the expensive parchment in the air.

Yoongi grumbled as he slumped into an armchair, looking like he wanted to murder the sun.

"There is nothing to bet on. Who else in this kingdom has the audacity to clean a mailbox just to drop off a note?"

"Let me see it," Namjoon requested, his voice sleep-roughened but sharp. Hoseok tossed it to him, and the leader caught it mid-air.

Jimin and Taehyung immediately crowded around his shoulders, peering at the elegant, flowing script.

Dear Kim Coven,

I would sincerely like to invite you all to a tour of the palace, as I promised Jimin-ssi earlier this week. I would be delighted if you could arrive at the palace today at 3:00 PM. Please dress comfortably and casually, as it could be a long evening. Worry not—there will be no 'strays' around, since I know Yoongi-ssi does not prefer the company of uninvited guests.

Yours sincerely,

Lee Felix.

"Hyung, I don’t understand a single word of this," Jimin groused, crossing his arms. "I didn't talk to him about a tour, and who are the 'strays'?"

Namjoon chuckled softly, his eyes scanning the subtext.

"I keep forgetting you two have only been to the palace a handful of times. This is coded, Jimin. What he means by 'no strays' is that the corridors have been cleared of spies, court gossips, and prying eyes. He's telling us we can come as ourselves, and it's going to be a long, honest chat."

"But why the secrecy? And why did Felix-ssi sign it?" Taehyung asked, tilting his head.

It was Jin who replied this time, leaning against the doorframe with a knowing look.

"Tae, babe, if anyone untrustworthy intercepted this and read a direct invitation from a Prince to a rebellious Coven, do you know how many heads would roll? By making it look like a casual follow-up from an aide about a 'tour,' he protects both his reputation and ours. It was very thoughtful of him."

"Do we have to reply?" Jimin asked.

"Not this time," Namjoon said, standing up.

"This is phrased as a request, but in the world of royalty, it’s a beautifully wrapped order. Besides, we don't have a way to send a letter back that quickly. We have a lot to discuss with him, so let's get ready."

By 2:45 PM, the coven gathered on the front lawn. Despite the "casual" request, none of them wanted to look like they had just rolled out of bed, yet they took the "comfortable" advice to heart.

Namjoon and Seokjin looked like the pillars of the family. Namjoon wore an earthy-brown knit sweater and dark slacks, while Jin opted for a crisp white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up and tailored grey trousers.

Yoongi was a shadow in the sunlight, wearing a simple black hoodie made of expensive cashmere and dark jeans, his hands buried deep in his pockets.

Hoseok wore a vibrant emerald-green bomber jacket over a white tee, looking effortlessly stylish.

Jimin and Taehyung were the most fashionable "casuals." Jimin wore a black turtleneck that hugged his frame and silver chains, while Taehyung looked like a Bohemian dream in a wide-legged pair of trousers and a soft, patterned cardigan.

"How are we even getting there?" Taehyung started to ask, but he was cut off as the air in front of them began to shimmer.

A massive, intricate teleportation circle—glowing with the gold-and-silver light of the Royal Family—erupted from the grass. It didn't feel like the jarring pull of their own magic; it felt warm, like a beckoning hand.

"Well, that's our ride," Yoongi muttered.

They stepped into the circle together. A moment of weightlessness followed, a blink of white light, and then the scent of jasmine hit them.

They were no longer in their forest clearing; they were standing within the private, high-walled courtyard of the Palace’s Fourth Wing.

Standing there to greet them, looking sharp in a tailored charcoal suit, was Felix. He offered a bright, welcoming smile.

"Punctual as always," Felix said, bowing slightly.

"Welcome to the nest. His Highness is waiting."

While Jungkook had requested the Kim Coven’s presence for three in the afternoon, he had summoned Yugyeom much earlier.

He craved the grounding presence of his best friend, wanting to steal a few hours of normalcy over lunch before the weight of his fractured soul became the centerpiece of the day’s discussion.

The five of them—Jungkook, his three siblings, and Yugyeom—gathered in the sun-drenched breakfast nook of the Fourth Wing.

The table was laden with a spread of light Mediterranean fare: fresh focaccia, roasted vegetables, and herb-crusted chicken that filled the air with a savory aroma.

The atmosphere was vibrant, the siblings just as enamored with Yugyeom as Jungkook was.

"Yugyeom-ah, tell me you brought some of that mountain tea your Halmeoni blends," Rylene said, leaning forward with an eager spark in her eyes.

"Nothing in the palace kitchens even comes close to it."

"Of course I did, Ryl," Yugyeom laughed, his voice a warm melody that seemed to brighten the room.

"But only if you promise to show me that new movement-based magic you’ve been practicing. I heard you nearly froze the training hall last week."

"It was an accident," Rylene defended with a grin, though she didn't look particularly sorry.

Hyunjin, meanwhile, was focused on Yugyeom’s attire—a soft, oversized knit sweater in a shade of lavender that seemed to shift with his mood.

"The texture of your magic is different today, Yug. It feels... denser. Like a storm front held behind glass."

Yugyeom tilted his head, his expression softening into something more serious for a fleeting second.

"The visions have been vivid lately, Hyunjin. When the future gets loud, the magic gets heavy. But let’s not talk about that yet. I want to hear about the art exhibition you’re planning. Is the Crown Prince finally going to let you display that portrait of him?"

Jungkook snorted into his drink. "Only if he paints over the parts where I look like I’ve had three hours of sleep."

They kept the conversation light, a deliberate shield against the looming gravity of the afternoon. They talked of petty court scandals, the blooming cycles of the palace flowers, and the quiet peace of the witching woods where Yugyeom’s family resided.

It was a rare, precious hour where Jungkook wasn't a broken deity, but simply a brother and a friend.

Eventually, the plates were cleared.

Hyunjin and Rylene rose, offering reluctant smiles. They had to cover for both Jungkook and Ytris’s official duties while the meeting took place—a logistical necessity to ensure no "strays" noticed the prolonged absence of the two oldest siblings.

"Don't let them intimidate you, Hyung," Rylene whispered as she squeezed Jungkook’s shoulder.

"And if they do, tell them I'll freeze their front door shut."

Once the younger two departed, leaving only Jungkook, Yugyeom, and Ytris in the quiet room, the energy shifted. Ytris pulled out a notebook bound in silver leather, her scholarly mind already preparing for the investigation.

While they waited, Jungkook turned to Yugyeom, his voice dropping into a more intimate register.

"Yug-ah, I meant to ask... how has your coven been? Truly?"

"They’re fine, Kook. A bit restless, but fine," Yugyeom replied, leaning back and watching a stray beam of light dance across the table.

"They didn't come with me this time. They felt it was better for me to represent our line alone for the initial talks."

"Did you tell them you plan on helping me?"

Jungkook asked, his brow furrowing with concern.

"I don’t want you to go against their wishes or create a rift. Witches are... your bonds are sacred, Yug. I couldn't live with myself if I cost you that."

Yugyeom reached across the table, placing a steady hand over Jungkook’s.

"Kook-ah, look at me. They know everything. They support me because they know you. Don’t worry; I didn’t have to fight a single one of them to be here. In fact, my eldest brother told me that if I didn't help you, he’d find someone else who would. We take care of our own."

Jungkook let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"That’s... that’s good. I was also thinking... do you think the Kim Coven would find it weird if I gifted them some things? I know the protocol is stiff, but they’re helping me risk their lives."

Yugyeom let out a mischievous huckle.

"Kookie, they would be absolute fools to refuse anything from you. You’re a Prince; your 'small tokens' are usually artifacts of legend. And besides, it isn't as if you plan on courting them... do you?"

"Yugieee!" Jungkook groaned, his face flushing a sudden, bright crimson. "Obviously I don't plan to! I barely know them!"

"Then—" Yugyeom started, but his eyes suddenly lost focus, his head tilting toward the window.

The air in the room hummed, a low-frequency vibration that signaled the activation of the royal teleportation gate. The Kim Coven had arrived.

"They're here," Yugyeom whispered, the playful light in his eyes replaced by the sharp, piercing clarity of a Seer.

"And Jungkook? Try to keep your heart in your chest. The one in the hoodie? His aura is practically vibrating with curiosity about you."

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