Sunlight streamed through the wooden shutters, casting soft golden streaks across the room. A gentle breeze carried the scent of wildflowers, mingling with the faint aroma of herbal salves. The world was quiet, peaceful—too peaceful.
Veylan lay nestled in Liora's arms, his small body resting against her warmth. She hummed softly, the sound lulling, tender. He could feel the rise and fall of her breathing, the steady beat of her heart. A comfort he did not want.
It had been only a day since his rebirth, his limbs, tiny and useless, responded sluggishly. His voice, when he tried to make sounds, was nothing more than an infant's cry. It was maddening. His mind was intact—sharper than ever—but he was trapped, unable to act, unable to take even a single step toward his goal.
He closed his eyes, frustration simmering beneath the surface. This world… this life… he had no attachments to it. But he needed it. Strength—that was the only thing that mattered now. If this world had means to defy death, to transcend the limits of life itself, then he would find it. No matter how long it took. No matter what he had to do.
A deep chuckle broke through his thoughts. Rhen stood beside them, watching with an amused glint in his eyes.
"He's staring again," Rhen said, crossing his arms. "Always thinking, this little one."
Liora laughed, brushing a hand over Veylan's dark hair. "Maybe he'll grow to be a scholar."
Rhen scoffed. "A scholar? In this clan? No, our son will be strong. Stronger than anyone."
Veylan looked up at them, their faces filled with love and pride, completely oblivious to the storm raging inside him. They were happy. They believed in a future he didn't care about.
Strong, Rhen had said. Yes, he needed to be strong—but not for the reasons they thought.
Liora smiled down at him. "No matter what he becomes, he is ours." She kissed his forehead, holding him close. Her warmth surrounded him, the air between them was light, unburdened—for a fleeting moment, they were simply a family. But he felt nothing.
Then came the knock. Firm. Unyielding.
Liora stilled. Rhen's gaze darkened.
The door slid open, revealing a man in deep blue robes—the mark of the Lei Clan's retainers. His posture was stiff, his expression unreadable as he unrolled a scroll.
"Lei Rhen, you are summoned by Chief Varian. The child is to be brought as well."
Silence.
Veylan sensed the shift instantly. His mother's arms, once gentle, turned rigid. His father's breath came slower, measured. The warmth of the room, the ease of moments before—it had all vanished, leaving behind a tension even he could feel.
"No," Liora said, holding Veylan closer. "He's barely a day old. There's no reason—"
"The summons is not a request," the messenger interrupted, his voice hollow with formality.
Liora's grip on Veylan tightened, her fury simmering just beneath the surface. "I don't care what Varian wants. My child will not—"
"We will go," Rhen said quietly.
Liora turned sharply. "Rhen—"
His gaze met hers, firm yet unreadable. "Refusing will not change anything."
For a moment, neither spoke. Then a quiet sigh broke the stillness.
From the far side of the room, Sage Mier leaned against the doorway, his robes slightly dishevelled, his tired eyes flickering toward the infant in Liora's arms. His lips parted, then closed again. He exhaled through his nose and shook his head.
Veylan watched, unable to fully grasp the weight of the moment—but aware that it mattered. The air was thick with something unspoken. His mother's hands were trembling. His father's stance was unnaturally still. The messenger simply stood, waiting.
Something was happening.
And though he cared little for this world or the people in it, he couldn't help but wonder—what did it mean for him?
🔱 — ✵ — 🔱
The ancestral hall of the Lei Clan was everything a temple should be. Tall wooden pillars bore intricate carvings and inscriptions about clan history, while a heavy scent of incense lingered. Languidly, in the evening breeze, banners embroidered with golden threads billowed slightly. Dozens of clansmen had formed a somewhat loose semicircle, their subdued whispers filling the space.
And as Rhen stepped forward, silence blanketed the atmosphere. Eyes turned, none of those expressions revealing anything—curiosity, amusement, suspicion. Liora held Veylan protectively, perhaps too protectively.
At the far end of the hall, Chief Varian was lounging. His robe was pristine, while his dark hair was braided, with a face that spoke nothing, except for the twinkle of satisfaction in his eyes.
"So, you came, Brother."
The words were casual, yet the weight behind them was anything but.
Rhen inclined his head slightly. "You summoned me."
Varian leaned back, exhaling a soft chuckle. "And you answered. You always do." His gaze flickered toward Liora, lingering for a moment too long. "You even brought your… family."
Liora's hold on Veylan tightened, but she said nothing.
The gathered clansmen whispered among themselves, some failing to hide their smirks.
Varian gestured lazily. "I was merely feeling nostalgic. It has been a while since the entire clan was graced with your presence, dear brother." His tone dripped with mock warmth. "Once, you stood here as the pride of our generation. A man meant to lead us. And yet, look at you now." He let the words hang in the air, a slow smile curving his lips.
Rhen remained silent.
Varian's smile widened. "Tell me, do you regret it?"
There was no need to clarify what he meant. The question was a blade, sharpened by years of resentment.
Rhen's jaw tightened, but his expression did not change.
Varian sighed, shaking his head. "You could have had everything. Strength, power, the Lei Clan at your feet. But instead, you threw it all away for—" His eyes flicked to Liora, a smirk tugging at his lips. "—love."
The word slithered off his tongue, an insult more than a sentiment.
Liora stiffened. Her lips parted as if to retort, but Rhen's hand on her wrist stopped her.
Varian watched with barely concealed amusement. "Still as obedient as ever, I see." His gaze dropped, settling on the bundle in Liora's arms. "And now you've given us something else to talk about."
A low murmur rippled through the crowd.
Veylan, despite his detached awareness, felt the weight of attention shift toward him. He had no interest in their petty politics, but even he could sense the thick tension in the air.
Varian leaned forward slightly, studying the child as if he were something to be appraised. "Tell me, Rhen, does he even deserve to carry our name?"
Liora inhaled sharply.
Rhen's fingers curled at his sides, but still, he did not rise to the provocation.
The hall remained silent, waiting.
Then, Varian chuckled. "Ah, I forget myself. It would be rude of me to doubt so openly. After all, time reveals all truths, doesn't it?" His voice was smooth, measured. "I only wonder… will this child prove himself worthy of the name Lei?"
Liora's temper proved to be flare-worthy. "How dare you-"
Varian lifted a hand at an angle meant to indicate hurt feelings. "Of course, I really don't want to suggest anything unfair. After all, our clan values tradition, right?" He let his eyes drift over the gathered members, who were giving very little, yet still present, indication with their nods that his point stood. "Surely there wouldn't be any opposition to keeping something that has already been long established."
Liora's breath was heavy. She did not miss the trap he was setting.
Veylan, cradled in her arms, could sense her pulse racing. He still did not know exactly what this all meant, but it was clear that something was being set into motion—something he had no say in.
Silence thickened the air, pressing down like a gathering storm.
Liora's grip on Veylan remained firm, her breathing slow but sharp. She could feel it—the way Varian was guiding the conversation, moulding it with practiced ease. He wanted her to lash out, to make a mistake.
And yet, despite knowing this, her heart pounded with fury.
"You speak of tradition," she said, her voice carefully measured. "Then honour it. The child is of the Lei bloodline, and yet you question his worth?"
Varian exhaled, feigning disappointment. "Not question, dear sister. Merely… wonder. We all know strength determines one's place in the clan. It is our way. And yet—" his eyes glinted, turning toward Rhen, "—what does one make of a son born from a man who forsook his own path?"
Rhen's fists clenched at his sides.
A few chuckles rippled through the gathered clansmen, quiet but pointed.
Liora's gaze hardened. "You mock my husband, you mock my son, yet you hide behind empty words."
Varian sighed. "Empty? Come now, Liora. Surely you don't expect to be given the same standing after all these years? Or did you think a mere name was enough to guarantee a place in the Lei Clan?"
Liora opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Varian raised a hand.
"Very well," he said smoothly. "I shall not speak in riddles. Since you are so certain of your son's place in our great clan, let tradition decide for us."
A murmur swept through the crowd.
Rhen's eyes narrowed. "What are you suggesting?"
Varian smiled, slow and deliberate. "The ceremonial test. All children of the Lei Clan must take it when they come of age at thirteen." His fingers tapped idly against his chair. "It determines their standing in the clan—whether they shall rise or fall." His gaze flickered to the bundle in Liora's arms. "Why not let young Veylan take it? If he is truly meant to be one of us, he will prove it."
A sharp intake of breath came from the crowd.
Rhen's hands trembled, but his voice remained steady. His fingers curled into a fist at his side, knuckles turning white. For a moment, his gaze flickered toward Liora, something unreadable in his eyes—but he said nothing. "That test determines one's standing in the clan. Are you implying my son must prove his right to exist?"
Varian smiled, slow and deliberate. "No, no, dear brother. Only that an outsider must earn his place."
His smile sharpened. "Of course, we must ensure that this is fair. Others who fail the test merely lose status, but an exception must be made for one who was never meant to belong."
Liora stiffened. "What do you mean?"
"If he fails," Varian said, voice ringing through the hall, "he will be exiled."
A stunned silence followed.
Liora's breath caught in her throat.
Exile.
Not lowered standing. Not the quiet shame of mediocrity. Gone. Cast from the Lei Clan, severed from his lineage entirely.
She turned sharply to Rhen, expecting him to object, to put an end to this. But he was silent.
Her heart pounded. "You can't be serious."
Varian only smiled. "Why not? If he is meant to be a Lei, he will succeed. If not, then he does not deserve the name."
A flicker of hesitation passed through the gathered clansmen, but none spoke against it.
Veylan, watching from his mother's arms, remained still. He didn't cry, didn't make a sound. He wasn't truly part of this moment—just the subject of it. But even he could see the trap closing.
Liora's hands trembled. "You would exile a child?"
"A child who does not belong," Varian corrected. "But that is up to fate, is it not?"
Liora stiffened. Her hands clenched into fists, nails pressing into her palm. This was a trap, she knew that much. But to refuse outright—
If she refused, it would only confirm the whispers that already stirred beneath the surface:
She's afraid.
Even his mother knows he has no place here.
If the child of Rhen is weak, then perhaps he was never worthy to lead in the first place.
Liora opened her mouth, then closed it. For a single breath, doubt flickered in her eyes. She knew the risk.
But when she looked down at Veylan, the sneers in the crowd rang louder than reason.
"Fine," she said, voice tight.
Rhen inhaled sharply beside her.
She met Varian's gaze, fire burning behind her eyes. "Veylan will take the test. And he will not fail."
Varian's smirk was triumphant. "Good."
The decision had been made. The weight of it settled over her like a brand seared into flesh.
And in her arms, Veylan remained silent, his small fingers curling weakly against the fabric swaddling him. His mother had just gambled his fate. But to him, it was all the same. The Lei Clan's judgment meant nothing.
He simply wondered what it would mean for the path ahead.