The library was a towering marvel, filled with spiraling shelves that stretched across three massive floors. You could spend a lifetime trying to read it all. Of course, the Blades had a quicker way to absorb a book's contents—but that shortcut involved a place Vorden refused to go.
It was the place where the Chained lived. When he was younger, they used to bring the Chained out to him. Even then, he couldn't stomach it. He would always ask Raten to handle it instead. And he didn't now want Quin to ever know.
Ignoring that dark memory, Vorden moved through the shelves, picking out a few transformation ability books, some skill manuals, and a couple on telekinesis, wind, water, earth, teleportation.
"Sir," a man's voice came from behind. Vorden didn't flinch—he'd been expecting someone eventually. That was life in the castle.
"Dinner is ready," the man announced. "Shall I take those books to your room?"
"Sure," Vorden replied, handing them over before heading to the dining hall with Quin.
The dining room was long, with a rectangular table. Hilston sat at the far end, Vorden's mother and father to one side, the other children across from them, and Quin next to them. The seat right beside Hilston was reserved for Vorden.
The table was already set, food waiting. Vorden found himself more relaxed than expected—maybe he'd gotten used to the oppressive atmosphere. Quin, on the other hand, could barely hide the tremor in his hands.
"It's nice to sit down as a family," Hilston said. His eyes then shifted to Quin. "Speaking of family, where do you come from, boy?"
Caught off guard, Quin coughed before answering. "Me? I lived in a government housing block on Earth. My parents… they didn't survive the Dalki war. I didn't really have anyone until Vorden brought me here."
Hilston nodded, then turned to Vorden. "I'm surprised you two became friends so quickly. You've only been gone five days. I didn't expect to see you so soon. Still, I wish you hadn't left at all—but Brock has convinced me to send you both back to the academy next month when the term starts again."
Quin's shoulders loosened at the words, relief spreading across his face.
"Grandpa," Vicky interrupted, "didn't Vorden break your rule? He just brought an outsider to the Blade Island, and you're just letting him go?"
"Be respectful to our guest, Vicky," Hilston said. "He was invited by your brother. I'm sure he won't cause trouble."
"Of course not, sir," Quin quickly chimed in. "I promise."
The meal went on without further incident. When it ended, tradition called for each child to kiss Hilston on the cheek, then their parents. Vorden's siblings did so with ease, their affection toward Hilston looking natural, but the kiss to their parents was stiff and mechanical.
Vorden followed the same pattern, though when he kissed his "parents," they stared blankly ahead, their eyes cold.
"Mom. Dad," he muttered, completing the act.
"This fake family," Raten's voice echoed in his head. "Creepy old man keeps this charade going, right, Sil?"
It was true. While they were all blood-related, the family roles were an invention of Hilston. The people Vorden called "mother" and "father" were actually his older siblings. Everyone on the island was Hilston's child, brought here over decades—often with the same blond hair as him. The identity of their real mothers was a mystery. Hilston demanded to be called "grandfather," even by his direct sons and daughters.
As the others began to leave, Hilston looked at him. "Stay behind." he said.
The room emptied. Quin was escorted to Vorden's room by a servant, leaving Vorden alone with Hilston.
He braced himself, still uneasy. Surely there was going to be punishment for bringing Quin—yet Hilston's words surprised him.
"I'd like to speak to Sil," Hilston said.