The world in the garden stopped. The gentle hum of the Citadel, the scent of the glowing flowers—it all faded into a dull buzz. Kaelen could only see Elara's face, the tears tracing clean paths through the fine dust on her cheeks. The kind, sad woman who gave him a calming stone was gone. In her place stood a stranger who had held his entire history locked away in her silence.
"You knew," he repeated, the words hollow now. The initial shock was hardening into something colder, sharper. "All this time. You let me think I was nobody. You let me scrub floors and fight for scraps in the ruins when you were here." He gestured around at the peaceful garden, a place of safety he had never known.
Elara didn't try to touch him. She just wrapped her arms around herself, as if against a sudden chill. "I did not 'let' you do anything," she said, her voice thick with emotion but firm. "I lost you. When your father… when everything happened, it was chaos. The Veil was rising. The city was in panic. We were separated. I searched for years. I thought you were dead." A sob broke through her words. "Finding you alive was a miracle. But bringing you here, announcing who you were… it would have been a death sentence."
"Why?" Kaelen demanded, the coldness in his chest spreading. "Because of my father? What did he do?"
A look of profound fear crossed Elara's face. She glanced around the empty garden, though they were alone. "We cannot speak of this here," she whispered urgently. "The walls have ears. His name… it is a forbidden thing."
"His name is my name!" Kaelen's voice rose, echoing in the quiet space. The Umbral energy inside him stirred, reacting to his anger, making the shadows around them deepen.
Elara flinched at his tone, but her eyes held his, pleading. "Please, Kaelen. You must trust me. The truth is a weapon that can destroy you. I kept it hidden to protect you. From them." She didn't specify who 'them' was. She didn't need to. The Council. The powerful. Anyone who had sealed the records.
"I don't need protection!" he shot back, though the words felt like a lie even as he said them. "I need to know who I am! What is this power inside me? Why does it feel like a monster sometimes?" He took a step closer, his hands clenched into fists. "Tell me what he did. Tell me why we're a secret."
The fear in Elara's eyes was now mixed with a desperate love. "He was a good man," she insisted, her voice breaking. "A brilliant man. His power was… immense. He believed he could understand the Veil. He believed he could control it. Others believed he could cause it. When the Drowse began, they needed someone to blame." She shook her head, fresh tears falling. "They called him a traitor. A heretic. They said his experiments broke the world. Anyone associated with him was hunted. I had to hide. I had to make them forget I ever existed. I had to make you forget."
The story crashed over him. His father wasn't just lost. He was accused. A scapegoat for the end of the world. The weight of it was crushing. His curse wasn't just a random tragedy; it was a family legacy of power and fear.
"So I have to live a lie instead?" Kaelen asked, his anger draining away, leaving only a vast, empty hurt. "I have to be nobody forever?"
"No," Elara said, her voice gaining a sliver of steel. "You have to become strong enough that the truth cannot hurt you. You have to become so powerful that when you finally speak his name, no one can silence you." She looked at him, her gaze intense. "That is why I never told you. A seed cannot grow if it is constantly dug up and exposed. You needed to put down roots first. You needed to survive."
She took a hesitant step forward. "I am so sorry for the pain. I carried this weight so you wouldn't have to, until you were strong enough to help me bear it."
Kaelen looked at her—this woman who had given up her son, her past, her name, all to keep him safe. Her love wasn't a gentle thing. It was a desperate, painful, hidden fortress.
His anger faded, replaced by a confusing storm of grief and pity. He had spent his life alone, yearning for a connection. And the whole time, his mother had been watching over him from the shadows, loving him in the only way she thought would keep him alive.
He didn't hug her. He couldn't. The hurt was too fresh. But he gave a slow, stiff nod.
"I understand," he said, though he didn't, not fully.
It was enough for now. Elara's shoulders slumped in relief.
The truth was out. It was heavier and more dangerous than any monster. He wasn't just Kaelen, the feral orphan. He was Kaelen, son of a heretic, heir to a power that could command nightmares.
The path ahead was no longer just about survival or power. It was about redemption. Or revenge. He didn't know which yet.
But he knew one thing for certain. The game had just changed completely. And he was no longer just a piece on the board.
He was a player.