Ten years changed the world quietly.
Ravenshade still stood—stronger now, wiser—but the greatest change did not walk its halls in robes or command magic from towers.
She ran barefoot across forbidden rooftops.
"Aerin Ashborne!" Elara's voice echoed through the eastern courtyard. "You are not supposed to be there!"
Too late.
Aerin laughed as she leapt from stone to stone, shadows folding beneath her feet like wings, light sparking instinctively at her fingertips to steady her landing. She was ten now—sharp-eyed, fast-thinking, and entirely too confident for someone whose power was just beginning to wake.
"I was careful!" she called back.
Kael appeared beside Elara without a sound, his expression calm but his shadows already stretching outward, tracking their daughter's movement beyond the wards.
"She crossed the outer boundary again," he said quietly.
Elara exhaled. "Of course she did."
Inside the eastern tower, a much smaller child sat on the steps, clutching a wooden training sigil almost as big as his hands.
"Papa?" he asked softly.
Kael turned, the tension in him easing instantly.
"Yes, Ryn."
Ryn Ashborne—six years old, dark-haired, solemn, observant. Where Aerin burned bright and reckless, Ryn was quiet and inward, his magic barely visible but dense, like something waiting patiently beneath still water.
"She's in trouble again, isn't she?" Ryn asked.
Kael knelt in front of him. "She's learning," he said gently. "Just faster than the world would like."
Ryn frowned. "Mama says the world doesn't like things it can't control."
Kael smiled faintly. "Your mama is very wise."
Aerin returned an hour later—dragged back by half-dissolved wards and an escort of exhausted instructors.
Her clothes were torn. Her braid had come loose. Her eyes were glowing faintly—not light, not shadow, but something between, unstable and alive.
"She slipped past three containment seals," one instructor said, equal parts awe and worry. "And she changed them."
Elara knelt immediately, gripping Aerin's shoulders. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?"
Aerin looked away. "I just wanted to see what was beyond the ravine."
Kael stepped closer, his voice calm but firm. "There are places that hunt power like yours."
"I'm not scared," Aerin snapped.
"That's the problem," Elara said softly.
Aerin's anger faltered. Her glow flickered.
"I don't want to be locked away," she whispered. "I don't want to be protected until I disappear."
The words hit harder than any spell.
Kael closed his eyes briefly.
Because once—long ago—he had been the child they protected too late.
That night, after both children were asleep—Aerin restless with magic curling through her dreams, Ryn quiet and deep in thought—Kael and Elara stood together in the council chamber.
"She's awakening too fast," Elara said. "Faster than the wards were ever designed for."
Kael nodded. "She's not just bending magic. She's questioning it."
"And the world beyond Ravenshade is changing," Elara added. "Lucien's influence hasn't vanished. It's… moving."
Kael's shadows darkened. "Then we don't cage her."
Elara turned to him. "Kael—"
"We teach her," he said firmly. "Openly. Truthfully. And we prepare her for the enemies she hasn't met yet."
Elara's jaw tightened. "And Ryn?"
Kael softened. "We watch him closely. He's different. Quieter. But whatever lives inside him… it's powerful."
Elara rested her forehead against Kael's chest. "I wanted better for them."
Kael wrapped his arms around her. "You gave them better," he said. "That doesn't mean safer."
Outside, unseen by anyone—
Aerin sat on the windowsill of her room, staring at the distant horizon beyond Ravenshade's wards.
Something out there was calling to her.
And far away, in a place where darkness was no longer forbidden, Lucien Vale smiled as he felt it too.
"Ah," he murmured. "So the legacy has begun."
The children of balance were growing.
And the world was already deciding whether to fear them—
Or try to claim them.