Simon's POV
I finally let out some steam, the adrenaline from our earlier fight still coursing through my veins. But with the two boys knocked out cold, a question lingered in my mind—what should we do with them?
Jay, of course, had a grin that made my chest ache from equal parts pride and mischief.
"Let's leave them outside in the rain," he said, eyes glinting with devilish delight.
Genius. Pure genius.
We hoisted the two unconscious half-brothers, their limbs limp, toward the courtyard. The marble floor echoed under our steps. The wind carried a light drizzle through the open corridors, droplets catching in the polished crystal floors and reflecting faint rainbows.
Suddenly, from seemingly nowhere, Che—the drill instructor who could sniff out lies faster than any hound—materialized in our path. His piercing gaze swept over us like a blade.
"What happened to the boys?" he demanded, voice calm but edged with steel.
I froze for a heartbeat, then lied smoothly without hesitation.
"Well, sir, you see… they were fighting each other and knocked themselves out."
Che studied us for a moment, then blinked slowly. "Hm. Fighting each other, you say?" He waved a hand dismissively and walked away, leaving me to breathe a quiet sigh of relief. For now, we had fooled him.
But fate has a funny way of turning luck into misfortune.
By the time the boys were carried to the medical ward, their cowardly whispers had already betrayed us. They spoke of our powers, claiming I had used wind while Jay's shadows swirled like living smoke. That little revelation was like tossing a spark into dry tinder—it reached our father almost immediately.
Before the sun had fully set, the doors of the Storm Fortress opened. Our father, one of the patriarchs of House Valemont, entered with all the presence of a king. The Starlit Knights accompanied him, his children ranked seventh and above in the clan hierarchy. Every maid, every nanny, every attendant in the hall fell to their knees at his approach. The air itself seemed to bend under his authority.
"Bring me my youngest sons," his voice thundered, slicing through the hall like a blade.
Jay and I exchanged a glance. Formal attire awaited us, so we quickly dressed in the finest silks, embroidered with the silver and gold of the Valemont crest. Each stitch told of our clan's legacy—strength, honor, and the relentless pursuit of supremacy.
The audience chamber swallowed us whole. Towering columns of gold stretched to the ceiling, crystal floors reflecting every movement. The walls bore tapestries depicting warriors of old, each one etched in the annals of Valemont history. My heartbeat quickened. This was the chamber where our destiny would be weighed.
We bowed low, keeping our heads down. Our father's gaze was sharp, calculating, like a hawk sizing up fledgling prey.
"All Starlit Knights—out. I wish to speak with my youngest sons alone," he commanded.
The knights obeyed instantly, leaving the vast hall silent except for the faint echo of our footsteps and the occasional drip of water from the recent rain.
Father's eyes locked onto us.
"What is this power I hear of? Could it be… that you're both Xenos?"
Jay's lips curved into a small, confident smile. "We can show you," he said.
Without hesitation, we demonstrated. I summoned a swirling vortex of wind, its currents twisting and coiling with elegant precision. Jay's shadows danced and writhed around him, forming living tendrils that stretched and recoiled like dark serpents.
Father's eyes widened slightly, a spark of recognition flickering behind their usual stoicism.
"Do you know what this power is?"
"No, Father," we answered together.
He stepped closer, each movement deliberate, measured, radiating authority.
"When the first patriarchs ruled, they too were Xenos. Twins, like you. One swift, graceful, and mastering all four elements. The other—overwhelming, commanding shadows to crush his enemies. For this skill to appear again now… is strange indeed."
Jay tilted his head, curiosity burning in his bright eyes.
"So… that means we have the skill of the first patriarchs?"
"Yes," Father replied simply, the word heavy with weight.
Then his gaze sharpened, turning to me with that same intensity I had felt countless times in training.
"What will you use your power for?"
I swallowed, feeling the pressure of his scrutiny.
"For the betterment of the clan," I said, my voice steady.
But he was not so easily fooled.
"The truth," he said, and I knew better than to lie.
I exhaled slowly. "Fine. For myself."
A faint nod was all the approval he offered.
Then his eyes moved to Jay.
"And you?"
Jay's voice rang with unwavering conviction.
"To rule our nation and make our clan the most superior in the world."
Father's lips curved into a small, approving smile. Honestly, I thought it was ridiculous—Jay basically said the same thing as me, just with grander words—but he seemed pleased.
The patriarch stepped forward, placing a hand on each of our heads. His touch was light, yet it carried the weight of a lifetime of authority and expectation.
"Grow strong, boys. The world is not kind, and neither will I be. You have inherited more than power. You have inherited responsibility, destiny, and the burden of our name. Do not squander it."
The words resonated deep in my chest. I could feel the elemental force of the Eastern Dragon stirring within me, coiling like a living thing, ready to surge. Jay's shadow ki shimmered alongside mine, a silent promise of the strength to come.
Outside the chamber, the wind moaned against the stone walls, as if echoing our father's decree. Every step we would take from this moment onward would be scrutinized, every action measured against the legacy of the patriarchs.
And though the path ahead was shrouded in challenge and danger, one thing was certain.
This time, Jay and I would rise to the top—not just as heirs, but as the rulers of our destiny. The Twin Emperor Dragons had awakened, and nothing in the world could stand against us.