The rain fell in thin sheets outside the high windows, tracing lines down stone and glass like an unseen hand was weeping for what was lost.
Leontius Caerwyn stood at the far end of the corridor, watching the faint glow beneath his brother's door. He had passed by several times tonight, each time telling himself he would knock—ask if Cassian had eaten, if he was resting, if the bags beneath his eyes had lightened at all. But the light never dimmed, and neither did the guilt pressing at Leontius' chest.
He remembered the boy who used to trail behind him, clutching books too heavy for his frame. That same boy was now unraveling threads of an Empire's buried past, his hands shaking as he pieced together names that were never meant to be remembered.
"Is this how it begins?" Leontius wondered.
With silence. With loneliness. With a brother too proud to ask for help and another too late to offer it.
---
Hadrian returned just before midnight.
Cassian had barely moved since sunset, though the parchment scattered around him had multiplied—notes cross-referenced, seals half-broken, one candle long melted down to a crooked stump.
"You haven't slept." Hadrian's voice was sharper than intended.
Cassian didn't look up. "I tried. Nightmares."
Hadrian stepped inside and shut the door behind him with deliberate quiet. "You need to let go. At least when it's just us."
Cassian gave a faint laugh that didn't quite reach his eyes. "And if I do, will the world fall apart?"
"No," Hadrian said. "But you might."
---
They sat on the floor together, close enough for warmth, the documents between them like offerings. Hadrian passed him the seal he'd retrieved: the mark of a lost House once thought extinct, folded into the edges of Ashen Coil records—erased not by time, but by choice.
"It connects to a bloodline with wards. Forbidden ones," Hadrian murmured. "They used them to bind something—or someone. I don't know what yet."
Cassian's fingers trembled as he traced the etchings. "This crest. I saw it before. In a codex on exile magics. They used blood to hide their presence… as if they feared being found."
"There's more," Hadrian said. "Luceris sent a message—discreet. Hidden in one of the revised maps."
He pulled out a marked corner from his cloak. A series of starpoints had been drawn, then struck through with pale ink—visible only under heat.
"Some within the capital are moving against him," Hadrian said lowly. "And he believes the zealots are involved."
---
Cassian stared at the message, then slowly looked away. "Lord Thesan Viremont…"
Hadrian stilled. Cassian's tone was brittle.
"He can't be trusted," Cassian whispered. "Especially when it comes to the zealotry."
Hadrian didn't ask how he knew. The pallor of Cassian's skin, the deep shadows beneath his eyes, told him enough. Whatever Cassian had seen in the archives, it hadn't been meant to be found.
"They're using blood magic," Cassian murmured. "Sacrifices. The spells in the margins… They weren't theory. They were records."
Hadrian exhaled slowly, then reached out to him. "Come. Lie down."
He didn't ask permission. Just helped him stand, then guided him gently toward the divan near the window, where cushions waited and shadows softened.
Cassian leaned against him, not fully awake, not fully guarded either. His voice was raw. "You'll stay?"
"For tonight," Hadrian said. "Always, if needed."
---
Sometime before dawn, Cassian stirred—disoriented from a feverish half-sleep. The room had grown cold. Hadrian was gone.
On his desk, beside the sealed scrolls, sat a note written in Hadrian's hand:
"Follow the blood. Trust Luceris. I'll confirm the rest."
Cassian stared at the ink until the candle sputtered out.
---
He didn't sleep after that. Instead, he turned back to the scrolls, piecing together what little he could from scraps of memory and trembling light.
When Leontius entered at first light, the sight of his brother—still awake, still reading, still silently burning—hit him with sudden force.
"Cassian."
Cassian blinked up, startled by the sound of his voice. "Leontius."
Leontius walked to him and took the candle from his hand. "You can't keep doing this to yourself."
Cassian stared at him for a long moment, the words welling behind his teeth before finally surfacing. "Thank you… for earlier. For standing beside me."
Leontius's expression shifted. "I always will."
Cassian nodded, the weight of those words settling in his chest. He wasn't alone. Not anymore.
He turned back to the table, eyes drawn again to the mark of the erased House.
"We have to be ready," he murmured. "Because what they buried... was never meant to stay dead."
---