The council chambers had not seen light since the Trial ended.
Dust floated in the beams from the high windows like remnants of the fire Lucian had summoned. But no one dared sweep it away. The ashes were his now. A mark left behind like all the others.
Lucian sat at the far end of the circular table—not as a guest.
But as a claim.
Renak stood behind him, silent, unreadable. Kyrell was not far, leaning against the dark stone wall with arms crossed, shadow cast long and sharp.
The Elders watched him like priests before a god they could no longer control.
"I will not kneel to a council that erased my name," Lucian said. "But I will speak."
Elder Mareth's face trembled. "You have no authority—"
"I have blood. You taught us that meant everything."
He unrolled the letter.
The wax seal gleamed red under the torchlight.
"A royal decree from before the wars. My mother's name. My father's title. The Eye of First Blood. You swore to protect this seal. And instead, you buried it."
Mareth's hand shook as he rose. "Even if it is real, the throne is gone."
"Then I'll rebuild it from bone."
Gasps. One elder dropped her staff.
Kyrell smiled quietly.
Lucian wasn't bluffing. And the room knew it.
---
Later that night, they walked together through the ruins beneath the keep. An old hallway forgotten by time. Lucian's breath echoed against the damp stone, but it was Kyrell's voice that broke the silence.
"They hate you."
Lucian turned. "And you?"
Kyrell held his gaze, then looked away. "I don't hate what I don't understand. I just watch it closely."
Lucian's lip curved faintly. "That's a dangerous habit."
They stopped before an old stone gate. Covered in runes. Familiar ones.
Kyrell touched the center rune.
"I've seen this in dreams. This gate… is the one from the prophecy. Isn't it?"
Lucian nodded.
"It leads beneath the palace ruins. The first palace. Where the thrones were buried."
Kyrell knelt, fingers brushing the symbols.
"Why do I remember this?"
Lucian didn't answer at first. Then, quietly—
"Because you've been here before. In another life. You just didn't know you'd be returning."
---
Mara stood on the outskirts of the ruins, watching the tower flicker with candlelight.
She wore a red veil. Not for mourning—but for war.
In her hand was a small charm. A lock of hair. Lucian's. Stolen months ago.
"Blood always calls itself home," she whispered.
She tied it to her wrist.
The Forgotten One stood behind her again. Still nameless, still smiling.
"You want to be the queen of what remains?"
"I want to be the reason nothing remains," she said coldly.
The Forgotten One's eyes gleamed. "Good. Then we begin."
---
Deep underground, beneath stone, beneath time—Renak followed the scent of iron and secrets.
He opened the last chamber Silas had hidden with magic only royal blood could unravel.
Inside, he found it:
A portrait. Ancient. Charred around the edges.
Of Lucian… as a child.
Standing beside a man who looked like him.
But it wasn't Silas.
It was the true king.
And next to him, holding his hand—
A child with golden eyes.
Kyrell.
---