The Grand Convocation Hall, carved into the marble cliffs of Aurenthal, echoed with silence. Lords, nobles, and heirs of the three Great Houses had gathered under the banners of unity — but tension coiled through the air like a storm waiting to break.
That's when the doors opened.
He didn't stride in. He strolled — like the hall belonged to him.
Kael Virelith.
Gone for two years. Forgotten by some, whispered about by others. And now, standing tall — six feet of composure wrapped in elegance, with an untamed smile that made men uneasy and women curious.
His dark cloak rippled behind him, and his sharp eyes scanned the room like he was reading old jokes in new faces. A few gasped when they noticed the creature that loomed behind him — a sleek, powerful dragon cloaked in shadows and thunderlight. Black-scaled, with streaks of violet lightning flickering across its wings. A creature that shouldn't — by blood law and bond — ever be his.
Yet it was.
From the throne of House Thalorien, the King leaned forward, intrigued. The Queen smiled softly — a genuine kind of warmth that didn't often appear in royal courts.
Kael halted before the central dais where the High Council sat in judgment, surrounded by heirs and dignitaries from all three ruling families.
"So dramatic," Kael muttered loud enough for everyone to hear. "You summon all the heirs… and nobody brings snacks."
A few chuckled nervously. Most stared. The councilman from House Elcric — proud, rigid, and visibly displeased — rose from his chair.
"You vanished for two years, Kael. Without a word. Now you show your face expecting a seat at this table?"
Kael tilted his head, lips curving in amused mockery.
"That's right. You challenge me to prove I belong here — but I was born with fire in my blood and lightning in my veins. You stayed loyal? I became something your Third House hasn't seen in centuries."
Gasps rippled. Someone from House Elcric stepped forward — a tall cousin of Kael's who bore a similar crest. "A name doesn't make you worthy. You walk in here with a beast you shouldn't have. What proof do we have you didn't steal it?"
Kael grinned, leaning on the pommel of his sword. "If I stole a dragon… I'd at least take a prettier one. No offense, Zevyth." The dragon huffed behind him — amused.
The hall was stiff with uncertainty, but Kael's voice carried again — confident, cutting through.
"I came because you summoned us. Not to ask for a place — but to remind you I never lost it."
But behind his playful words, there was silence. Not the silence of pride, but the silence of grief.
Because beneath that humor, that dangerous charm and lightning aura, Kael Virelith carried ghosts.
Three years ago, his world cracked.
– An old man who believed in him more than his father ever did, died in sleep without a final goodbye.
– A girl he shared stolen bread and starlight with — broken beyond healing by someone in this very hall.
– A boy who made him laugh on dark days — died trying to save her.
Kael never spoke of them. He never cried where others could see. But some nights, when the court falls quiet and no one's left watching, even the fire in his room refuses to burn.
And the dragon — his dragon — watches in silence, thunder pulsing like a quiet heartbeat.
Because power wasn't Kael's goal.
Survival was. Vengeance, maybe. Or simply… not breaking.
So when he smiled, when he laughed — the world believed he didn't care. That was the point.
But in truth, he simply couldn't afford to bleed where others might drink it.
And now?
Now he had returned.