The Duke's presence filled the little house in a way no one could ignore. Even the fire crackling in the hearth seemed quieter when he stepped inside. Caelorn stood to greet him, his back straight but his eyes cautious. Lyra hovered just behind, wringing the edge of her dress with nervous fingers.
"You know why I asked to meet you," Duke Edryas began, his voice steady, like he was already carrying the weight of what he was about to say.
Caelorn nodded. "Yes. Kairu told us… you want to talk about which school he should attend."
"You're right," the Duke said. But instead of launching straight into talk of academies, he paused, his sharp gaze shifting between them. "But before we discuss that, there's something else. Something more important."
Lyra frowned. "What is it, Duke?"
He folded his hands on the table. "It's about your son."
The words landed like stones. Lyra's heart skipped, and Caelorn felt his shoulders tense.
"What about him?" they asked almost in unison.
The Duke leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable. "His features. His golden hair, his eyes, that strange aura. His magic. None of it resembles either of you. Tell me truthfully—he is not your blood, is he?"
Silence. Lyra lowered her eyes, her lips pressed tight. Caelorn finally exhaled, the sound heavy. "You're not wrong… he isn't."
The Duke's gaze sharpened, though not unkindly. "Then tell me."
Lyra's voice cracked before she could even finish the first sentence. "We found him. Years ago. He was just a child, barely alive, floating in the river near the mill. Alone, cold… so small. We couldn't leave him there. We took him home. We made him ours." She blinked fast, but tears still slid down her cheeks. "He became our son."
The Duke sat back in silence, studying them both. At last, he nodded slowly. "Then it's true. That explains much." He let the quiet linger a moment before adding, "And that is why I wanted to make you an offer. A… proposal."
Caelorn's brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"I would keep him as your son, but officially, I would adopt him into my house. With my name, my crest, doors will open for him that would otherwise remain closed. Without it, he will be forced into the commoner academies—Ashenford, or Stonebrook. Good schools, yes. But not nearly enough for what he carries inside him."
Lyra's breath caught, and she shook her head. "Wait—you're saying you'd take him from us?"
The Duke's expression softened for the first time that night. "No. Not take. I would give him a future worthy of what he is. Look at him. You know as well as I do, he's not meant for a quiet village life. His Etherion alone… it will draw the world's eyes to him. If he goes unprepared, it could destroy him."
Caelorn slammed his fist softly against the table, his voice tight. "You speak of him like he's a weapon, not a boy. He's our son. He belongs here."
Lyra's voice wavered, but her words were sharp. "Do you think a crest matters more than love? Than the family he's known all his life?"
The Duke leaned forward, his gaze intense. "Love will not protect him from what's coming. You've seen it too. The way he grows stronger each week, the way his power bends even when he doesn't mean it. He will outgrow you, whether you want it or not. I am not asking you to give him away. I am asking you to let him survive."
The fire popped, filling the silence that followed. Lyra covered her face with her hands, whispering, "He's just a boy…"
Caelorn stared into the flames, his jaw tight. "And yet, he is more. We've always known it." His voice cracked, just slightly. Then he looked up at the Duke, his eyes hard. "But give us time. Time to think. He deserves to know the truth, to have a say in his own fate. Not to be tossed into it like a pawn."
The Duke studied them both in silence, then nodded once. "Very well. But don't wait too long. The academies won't hold their doors forever. And neither will destiny."
When the door finally closed behind him, the room seemed smaller, darker. Lyra sat at the table, silent tears rolling down her cheeks, while Caelorn simply stared into the fire, the weight of the decision pressing down like a mountain....
.....