The vast chamber of Veilwood's heart lay shrouded in shadow and silence, broken only by the low thrum of the ritual circle carved into the obsidian floor. Its golden lines pulsed like living veins, drawing midnight power from the ancient stones.
Behind Lord Vaelor rose the throne, forged of living gold that twisted and coiled like the roots of an elder tree, reaching upward into the vaulted darkness as though yearning to pierce the heavens. It had waited centuries for its true heir, silent and ravenous.
He did not sit.
His gaze remained locked upon the small figure standing defiant at the center of the glowing circle.
The child.
Lina.
She was no more than seven, yet she met his stare with violet eyes that held no trace of fear, only a fierce, unyielding spark. A crooked crown of faded wildflowers sat tilted in her dark hair, stubborn against every force that had tried to dislodge it.
Vaelor's breath caught, slow and unbidden.
Something long buried stirred behind his ribs, an ache he had not felt in lifetimes. Recognition, yes, of blood older than empires. Hope, perhaps, that the shattered line might yet be mended. But beneath those, something sharper, more perilous, something that carried the ghost of laughter in sunlit gardens and tiny hands reaching for his.
She looked like someone he had lost.
Someone whose name he had not spoken aloud.
The tilt of her chin, the defiant set of her small shoulders, the way the light caught in those impossible violet eyes, it was as though memory itself had stepped out of the past and taken childish form before him.
He studied her clenched fists, the proud lift of her face, the refusal to retreat even as the circle's glow licked at her bare feet.
She was perfect.
Fragile, mortal, and perfect.
Tobias Hale would come for her. Vaelor felt the distant rumble of that vow cutting through the storm. Let him come. Let him tear the world apart trying.
The girl would stay.
With him.
Where she belonged.
Vaelor took one measured step forward, the hem of his midnight cloak whispering across the glowing runes. The circle flared brighter, as though greeting its completion.
"I have waited longer than you can fathom, little one," he said, voice soft as drifting ash. "And now that you are here, why don't we enjoy our time getting to know one another."
The crooked flower crown gleamed in the golden light, and for the briefest moment, something raw and paternal softened the ancient lines of his face.
Midnight crept closer.
And in the hush between heartbeats, Lord Vaelor felt the past and future braid together in the small, defiant form of a child.
Daughter of the Accord: Book 2 – Coming Soon