The rain had not stopped since the girl's death.
It fell in thin sheets now, washing over the stone terraces and carving slick paths between the hedgerows of the Rhime estate. Aurelian watched from his study window, one hand resting on the cold glass, the other still clutching the Marov coin. It hadn't left his grasp since they'd pulled it from her fingers.
REMEMBER.
He turned the word over again and again in his mind, as if repetition might conjure meaning. But the more he searched, the more the past refused to remain buried.
There was a knock at the door. He didn't turn.
"Enter."
The hinges groaned. Sera stepped inside, cloak damp, her hair darker with rain.
"We need to talk," she said.
Aurelian nodded but didn't move. "I know what you're going to say."
"No. You don't."
He finally looked at her. She had a parchment in her hands, folded and sealed not with wax—but with twine. Old. Frayed. Meant for secrecy, not ceremony.
She laid it on the desk between them. "It was hidden in the east wing. Beneath the girl's bed."
Aurelian picked it up slowly, undoing the cord. The parchment was brittle at the edges, and the ink had run slightly, water-stained in places. But the script was clear—precise and sharp.
Not just a letter.
A vow.
He recognized the format immediately. The old structure of oath-binding between Houses. But this one was different.
There was no herald's seal. No cleric's signature. No date or title.
Just two names, written in blood:
Corvin Rhime. Lira Vantrell.
And beneath them, a line that chilled him.
"Bound not by love, but by loss. One blade. One grave. One lie."
Aurelian stared at it, pulse slowing.
"This isn't real," he said.
"It's very real," Sera replied. "And it was meant to stay hidden. The girl must've found it by accident. Or… someone left it for her."
Aurelian's throat tightened. "My father never spoke of this."
"Neither did my mother." Sera's eyes were shadowed, voice tight. "But now it makes sense. Why she hated the peace. Why she called it cursed."
"You think this vow—whatever it was—led to all this?"
"I think it started something neither of them could control. A union forged in violence, not alliance. They weren't trying to bind the Houses, Aurelian. They were covering something up."
Aurelian backed away from the desk, as if distance might shield him from the truth. The parchment trembled slightly in his hand.
"Corvin always said the war ended in fire. That the treaty was forged because both sides finally saw reason."
"He lied."
It wasn't an accusation. Just a fact. A crack forming in the foundations of everything Aurelian thought he'd inherited.
"They killed someone," he said slowly. "Together."
Sera nodded. "And sealed their vow in blood."
He looked back at the parchment. The phrasing, the secrecy—it all pointed to something deeper than a mere battlefield pact. This wasn't about land or pride. It was about guilt.
Ezra entered then, unannounced as always, but uncharacteristically quiet. He caught the look between them, then the paper in Aurelian's hands.
"You found something."
"We found a ghost," Aurelian said. "One that's been haunting both our Houses for a long time."
Ezra walked closer, scanning the blood-bound vow. He exhaled. "That's old magic. The kind no one uses anymore."
"Because it demands a cost," Sera added. "And it never forgets."
Ezra frowned. "What do you want to do with it?"
Aurelian didn't answer right away. He folded the parchment carefully, then tucked it into the folds of his coat.
"We find out who died for this vow," he said. "And who knew."
⸻
The Rhime archives were buried beneath the oldest wing of the estate. Cold stone corridors twisted downward into a library of dust and shadow. Aurelian had only been there once as a child, led by a tutor too nervous to speak above a whisper. Now, the silence felt heavier.
The archivist—a narrow-eyed man named Bram—greeted them with a nod and no questions. When Aurelian explained what they were looking for—any record of a pact between House Rhime and House Vantrell not formally documented—Bram grew even quieter.
"I keep a ledger of discrepancies," he said after a pause. "Pages that should exist but don't. Names redacted. Dates scrubbed."
He led them to a back shelf behind a false panel. The ledger was bound in cracked leather and smelled of old ink and mildew. Bram flipped to the page he'd marked years ago.
"Here," he said, pointing. "Late spring, thirty years ago. There's a gap in the war records. Three weeks with no field reports. No correspondence. And then suddenly—a ceasefire."
Sera leaned closer. "That would've been the window."
Aurelian read the entry aloud: "Silence observed between Rhime and Vantrell forces. No known engagement. No explanation offered."
Ezra scanned the surrounding notes. "And what about the Marovs?"
Bram hesitated. "Marov territory was seized that season. Rapidly. Their main keep was burned to ash. Scattered survivors. One name mentioned—a child, unconfirmed."
"Which means," Sera said, straightening, "the 'one blade, one grave' could've been the last Marov heir."
Aurelian's jaw clenched. "My father and your mother murdered a child. Then swore an oath to bury it."
"And now someone's unearthing it," Sera finished.
Ezra rubbed a hand across his mouth. "The coin. The word 'remember.' They're not just threats. They're a message."
Aurelian turned to Bram. "Do we have any trace of the Marov bloodline?"
"None official. But rumors? Yes. Survivors who vanished into the wilds. Bandits. Smugglers who bore the serpent mark. Most assumed the line died out… but if even one heir survived…"
"They'd want revenge," Sera said.
"Not revenge," Aurelian murmured. "Judgment."
⸻
Later that night, Aurelian sat alone in his father's old study. The fire was low, the room steeped in shadows. He hadn't stepped foot in here since Corvin's funeral. The scent of old wood and colder legacies still lingered.
He poured himself a glass of brandy from a bottle untouched since the war's end and stared at the portrait above the hearth.
Corvin Rhime, as he'd always appeared in the histories—stoic, noble, indomitable. But now that face felt like a mask. Aurelian couldn't help but wonder what lay beneath it. What secrets were locked behind those painted eyes.
The parchment sat on the desk beside him.
He opened it again.
One blade. One grave. One lie.
What had it cost Corvin to keep that vow? What had it done to him? And more importantly—what had it done to Aurelian, inheriting a legacy built on a grave he never knew existed?
There was a sound behind him.
He turned to find Yvaine at the door, expression unreadable.
"I heard," she said softly. "About the vow."
Aurelian didn't move. "How long have you known?"
She entered slowly, hands clasped. "Not long. A few years. I found a letter your father meant to destroy. He never told me what they'd done—just that it had to remain buried."
"You should've told me."
"I was trying to protect you."
He laughed, bitterly. "Everyone's always trying to protect me. No one ever tries to tell me the truth."
Yvaine's voice sharpened. "The truth is dangerous."
"So is ignorance."
They stared at each other for a long moment.
"I need to know," Aurelian said at last. "Everything."
Yvaine exhaled and walked to the hearth, warming her hands near the fire. "Your father and Lira Vantrell met on a battlefield. Not as enemies. Not as lovers. As survivors. They found something—someone—hiding in the wreckage of a siege. A child. No more than ten. With eyes like the Marov line. And a name that matched."
"They killed her."
Yvaine didn't deny it. "They believed she would grow into a threat. That peace couldn't survive her vengeance. So they made a choice. One they could never undo."
"And swore a blood vow to keep it silent."
"Yes."
Aurelian stared into the fire. "And now that silence is unraveling."
Yvaine nodded. "The child wasn't alone. There were whispers of others. Distant kin. Blood will always find a way to rise."
He looked down at the coin again, its message branded into the metal.
REMEMBER.
"We need to prepare," he said. "Whoever's behind this isn't just targeting the peace. They're targeting the lie beneath it."
Yvaine turned toward him. "What will you do?"
Aurelian stood, folding the parchment once more.
"I'm going to find the last Marov."