The warmth that filled the Sanctuary after their return was tangible, yet beneath it lay a layer of untold history. Two nights later, they sat around the fire in the atrium, the flames casting flickering light across faces exhausted with relief but burdened by the truth that time had long concealed. The air smelled of smoke and ancient stone, and the silence was broken only by the crackling of the fire and the distant whisper of the wind.
Maximilian stared into the flames, his gaze distant, as though peering through time itself. "Akero," he began, his voice heavy with memories long sealed away. "There is something you must know—something we carried with us through all those years in the dungeon, a burden we guarded like a sacred relic."
Lesandra clasped his hand, her fingers tightening in silent support, her eyes already glistening with tears ready to fall.
Akero looked up from his spot, feeling his stomach twist from the weight of what was left unsaid. "What is it, Dad? You look… serious."
"Before you were born," Lesandra continued, her voice barely rising above the fire's gentle crackle, "you had a brother."
The words hung in the air, heavy and fateful. Akero felt the breath leave his chest, as if struck in the gut. The sensation was strange and raw, taking several moments to fully sink in.
"A brother?" he whispered, his voice trembling. "You never… never told me."
"His name was Airon," Maximilian said, a sorrowful smile breaking through the fatigue etched on his face. "He was brave, passionate, full of life… and far too young to understand the danger surrounding him."
He looked toward Serin and Kaelion, who now sat upright, their expressions bearing witness to a shared, painful past. "We fought in that war, but we weren't Guardians like them. We were allies—soldiers of the Society of Light. Airon was our eldest son, and he wanted to fight beside us—to protect what he loved."
"He fought at the Battle of the Burning Stone," Kaelion said softly, his voice filled with reverence for the young man no longer among them. "He held the line when everyone else fell back. Braver than anyone could have expected of someone his age."
Lesandra nodded, tears flowing freely now, leaving glistening trails down her pale cheeks. "He paid the ultimate price. The message reached us… and then, a week later, we were captured. We didn't even have time to grieve properly, to honor him as we should have."
She inhaled shakily, struggling to steady herself. "We carried that pain through all those years in the darkness, where the silence only made the loss heavier."
Akero felt his throat tighten, his eyes burning from tears that refused to fall. He imagined the young man—his brother—whom he would never meet, whose laughter he would never hear, whose presence would forever be an empty space in his life. The hollow feeling he had known all his life suddenly took on a name, a face. "Why… why didn't you ever tell me?" he asked, his voice raw with confusion and grief.
"At first, you were too young to understand," Maximilian explained, his tone laden with regret. "And later… when we sent you to the other world, we wanted to give you a clean start. Free of the weight of our past, our sorrow, our losses."
He lowered his head, looking more worn than ever. "Forgive us, son. We thought it was for the best."
In the corner of the room, Lucius sat perfectly still, his hands calmly resting on his knees. As he listened, something inside him began to stir—like a door in his mind, long sealed, creaking open. *Airon.* The name echoed through his consciousness, sending a shiver of unrest through him—a flicker of memory from a life that wasn't his. He gripped his staff tighter, forcing his expression to remain composed while an invisible battle raged deep within him.
**In that moment, the will of the Unknown crashed into his mind like a frozen tide—cold and merciless.**
***ERASE.***
***Do not remember. Do not feel. You are a weapon, not a person. Your past is irrelevant. Your present belongs to me.***
The flicker of emotion vanished, replaced by cold, obedient stillness.
When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, filled with compassion—a perfect imitation of another man's sorrow.
"My deepest condolences," he said, looking first at Akero's parents, then at Akero himself. "I… also lost a brother in that war."
He lied with perfect precision, his tone carefully balanced between restraint and grief. "He was a young healer. He didn't even carry a weapon—he only wanted to help, to save lives. The Unknown's forces slaughtered him simply because he tended the wounded."
He met Akero's eyes, his crimson gaze steady and sincere. "I know your pain. That anger… that hunger for justice against those who took someone you loved—it consumes you from within."
Akero met his gaze, and in his grief-stricken yet determined eyes, Lucius saw it—he had succeeded. The seed had been planted.
Later that night, while most had gone to rest, Lucius remained in the atrium, seemingly lost in quiet contemplation. As he passed by Akero's parents, still sitting together, he heard Maximilian whisper to Lesandra,
"Sometimes, in the dungeon, when I closed my eyes, I could swear I heard Airon's laughter… as if he were there with us, urging us to endure."
Lucius paused—pretending to adjust his cloak, but really, to listen closer. This was gold—intimate, personal details that were priceless to his manipulation. He memorized every word, every subtle emotion.
The next morning, he found a chance to speak with Akero alone as they walked beyond the Sanctuary walls.
"Your parents are remarkable people," he said, his voice full of carefully constructed admiration. "To endure all that… to lose a son, survive the dungeon, and still hold on to such dignity and love."
For now, he would let the seed grow—to take root deep within Akero's mind. He would use that wound later, when it would serve his purpose best.
Akero remained silent for a time, staring at his hands as if searching for answers etched into their lines. "All these years… I felt something missing, like a piece of me was gone. Now I know what it was."
He looked up, eyes blazing with resolve that outshone his sorrow. "Airon never got justice. My parents never had the chance to mourn him properly. The Unknown won't go unpunished for this—not just for me, but for all of us."
Lucius nodded, hiding his inner satisfaction behind a mask of concern and empathy. "Justice is a hard road, Akero. Sometimes it leads through darkness before the light. But remember—" he said softly, "you're not alone."
In that moment, his words were not quite lies—they were weapons, forged with precision to tighten the bond between them.
When they returned to the others, Akero went straight to his parents and embraced them again—tighter this time, as though afraid to lose them once more.
"I promise you," he whispered, voice thick with emotion, "Airon's death will not be in vain. Not just for him, but for all of us—for everyone who's lost someone they loved in this senseless war."
Maximilian and Lesandra held him close, their tears now a blend of deep sorrow and pride for their remaining son. In that moment, the family felt whole again—the past, present, and future woven together into a vow that spanned generations, a promise of vengeance and closure.
And Lucius watched from the shadows, recording every detail, every flicker of emotion that played before him. Every tear, every trembling breath, every act of love—each one a weapon in his arsenal, a data point to be used.
He knew the seed he had planted would soon blossom into a thirst for retribution, and when that thirst grew strong enough, it would become the key—the key the Unknown would use to shatter them all from within.
And Lucius… would be the one to turn it.