## CHAPTER 77: The Threshold of Legends
*Knock.*
*Knock.*
*Knock.*
The sound of Lyra's knuckles striking the heavy oaken double doors echoed crisply through the surrounding, cutting through the serene rustle of the surrounding plantations. For a few agonizing seconds, the four young nobles stood frozen on the stone steps, their breaths pluming into the chilly afternoon air. The nervous anticipation among them was thick enough to choke on; even Casel had temporarily lost his characteristic bounce, his eyes darting anxiously toward the intricate, runes carved subtly into the doorframe.
From behind the dense wood, a muffled, deeply irritated voice suddenly echoed.
"What in the bloody hell... who is—"
The massive door swung inward with a heavy creak, and the speaker's words were instantly cut short. Standing on the threshold was Zerav. The young beast-kin was dressed in a casual, vibrant purple short-sleeved top with several of the top buttons left entirely undone, revealing his powerfully built, athletic physique, defined six-pack abs, and the rugged contours of a warrior's frame. A simple leather necklace hung loosely around his neck, the pendant resting flat against his broad chest, and he wore dark, loose-fitting casual trousers that spoke of a domestic life far removed from the rigid uniforms of Althelgard Academy.
For a moment, Zerav stared at the assembly in absolute silence. His sharp, predatory eyes locked onto them, intently sweeping over the visitors.
"Good afternoon, Zerav," Lyra said smoothly, recovering her regal composure first, though her eyes lingered for a fraction of a second on the lack of aristocratic etiquette in his presentation.
"What's uuuuuuuuuppp!" Casel barked out a moment later, a broad, incredibly forced smile splitting his face as he waved a hand in the air to break the suffocating tension.
"Hi," Elisa spoke up softly from behind Lyra's shoulder, offering a small, polite wave, her gaze shifting nervously to Zerav's twitching beast ears.
Zerav's purple, slit-pupil eyes locked onto the familiar, pleasant faces of his classmates, his expression unreadable. But then, his gaze drifted past Elisa's shoulder, falling squarely upon the one individual he did not find pleasant in the slightest. His eyes pinned Alium Castamir, who stood at the very back of the group, trying his best to look small. The sheer, predatory intensity of Zerav's glare was like a physical weight; a violent shiver of primal fright ran straight down Alium's spine, his knuckles whitening as he instinctively clenched his fist.
Before the silence could stretch into open hostility, another booming voice echoed from deep within the cavernous halls of the estate.
"Zerav!" Edna's sharp, commanding voice rang out, instantly recognizable. "Who the hell is at the door?" she yelled from what sounded like a distant kitchen or training room.
"Just some uninvited guests from school," Zerav yelled back over his shoulder, not breaking eye contact with the nobles.
Without offering a single word of greeting or asking them what they wanted, Zerav abruptly turned on his heel and walked away into the house. He left them standing awkwardly on the stone steps, the door wide open. He took about five or six slow strides into the grand foyer before realizing the heavy silence behind him meant they hadn't moved a single inch. He paused, turning his head slightly, his purple eyes narrowing.
"What, you lots still need a formal royal invitation?" Zerav said, his tone dripping with casual indifference. "Be sure to close the door on your way in."
The four nobles exchanged a rapid, astonished look before quickly walking into the house to escape the biting chill of the valley. Alium, being the last one to cross into the house, gingerly grabbed the massive brass handle and pulled the heavy oak door shut, the latch clicking into place with a profound, echoing thud that seemed to seal them into an entirely different world.
The moment they turned around to take in their surroundings, all four of their jaws dropped simultaneously. They were left completely speechless, utterly unable to believe their eyes as they surveyed the interior.
The foyer was massive, painted a brilliant, pristine white that caught the soft light filtering through high, vaulted windows. Sprawling across the center of the hall was a breathtaking, dual-winged grand staircase made of polished, deep-toned mahogany. The stairs led majestically upward before dividing seamlessly into two separate, symmetrical paths—one sweeping elegantly to the left, and the other curving to the right toward the upper residential wings. Hanging from the immensely high ceiling was a massive, crystalline chandelier, its thousands of hand-cut glass teardrops refracting the light into a dazzling display of geometric shadows across the pristine walls.
Lyra looked up, her breath catching in her throat as her mind raced to calculate the sheer wealth and history required to secure an architectural masterpiece of this scale outside the capital. Alium was completely paralyzed, trapped in a state of utter shock.
"Hey. When you guys are done staring around like lost tourists, follow me," Zerav's voice barked from above, instantly snapping them out of their daze.
They raised their heads to see the beast-kin standing at the landing of the grand staircase, already turning down the right corridor. The four students quickly moved forward, their boots clicking against the polished floor as they ascended the mahogany steps. However, as they reached the central landing where the staircase divided, they were forced to halt once more.
Hanging on the massive, central white wall was a towering, heavily framed portrait. It was a painting so lifelike it looked as though the subjects might step right out of the canvas. The four nobles froze, their eyes wide as they instantly recognized the faces staring back at them from a seemingly distant time.
Their gazes first landed on the figure standing proudly at the very front of the painting. It was a significantly smaller, younger version of Caspian. Even as a child, his short, glowing light blue hair and deep sapphire eyes were entirely unmistakable. He wore a simple, structured tunic, his tiny hands resting calmly at his sides, but his face already held that exact same temple of absolute, unmoving calm that they had witnessed during his right against Grey in the academy courtyard.
"Awwn, look at little Caspian," Casel said with a genuine, unprompted chuckle, leaning in closer to examine the brushstrokes.
Next, their eyes drifted to the right of the young warden, landing on a little Louisa. Her shimmering, sun-golden hair practically radiated warmth from the canvas, a feature that was incredibly hard to ignore. She was much younger, her delicate features soft and undeniably cute, with her distinct elf ears standing out proudly against her hair.
"Look, it's little Louisa!" Elisa pointed out, her eyes twinkling with a soft, maternal warmth. "She looks so precious. Look at those cheeks!"
Next, their eyes naturally fell upon the child standing behind them, who looked incredibly large and imposing for his age. It was a young Zerav. Even in a formal portrait, they could never unseen or forget the absolutely devilish, mischievous grin plastered across his face—looking exactly like a boy who had just committed some unspeakable prank and was waiting for someone to notice. Yet, even as a child, his wild features and sharp purple eyes were remarkably stunning.
"Wow... he was towering over them even back then," Alium muttered, his voice laced with a mixture of awe and lingering intimidation. "I wonder how old they were when this was commissioned?" He looked around for an answer, but the others didn't care to give him a response.
Finally, their gaze shifted to the left, landing on a little Edna. Her trademark stubbornness and fiery attitude were practically bleeding through the canvas. She was pouting heavily, her arms crossed tight over her chest, her lips jutting out in a fierce scowl that made it perfectly clear she hadn't wanted to take part in this family painting at all. To make the image even sweeter, Louisa had her arm thrown securely around Edna's shoulders in the painting, physically holding the struggling, angry girl in place so the artist could finish the piece. It was a deeply heartwarming, incredibly rare glimpse into their sibling-like domestic bond.
"Who's that?" Alium asked.
But Lyra wasn't listening to Alium. Her sharp, analytical eyes had traveled past the children, moving toward the final figure depicted in the left part of the portrait. Standing beside the four kids was a young boy with pitch-black hair and a broad, radiant smile that seemed to exude a colorful, deeply energetic aura. He looked incredibly vibrant, full of life.
They had never seen him before in their lives.
"Who is he?" Lyra whispered, her internal investigator immediately flaring to life. Her suspicion was once again deeply intrigued. She stared intensely at the black-haired boy's smiling face. For some bizarre reason, she felt a haunting sense of familiarity radiating from the boy's features.
"Are you lot coming or what?" Zerav's voice echoed impatiently from further down the right hallway.
Realizing they had lingered too long, the four nobles tore their eyes away from the mysterious portrait, turned to the right, and followed closely behind the beast-kin. They walked through a wide, sunlit corridor lined with simple but elegant tapestries. As they walked, Lyra grew entirely lost in her own thoughts, her mind completely consumed by the final person in the painting, trying to connect the dots who the final kid in the painting was.
Sensing the drop in the group's energy, Casel decided it was time to start playing with their host. He quickened his pace, moving fluidly past Lyra and Elisa until he was walking right alongside the towering beast-kin. With an absurd amount of confidence, Casel reached up and casually placed his hand on Zerav's broad, muscular shoulder.
"Bruuuuhhhhh," Casel started, leaning in with an eager grin. "You were so big in that painting, man! Seriously, how old were you guys when you took that? You looked like you could have wrestled a low-tier demon at ten years old!"
Zerav didn't even turn his head. "I don't know," he replied flatly.
"What do you mean you don't know?" Casel laughed, nudging him slightly. "Come on, everyone knows how old they are in their childhood photos. Give me an estimate!"
"I don't know the exact number," Zerav repeated, his voice dropping into a lower, slightly colder register.
"Okay, okay, fair enough," Casel pressed on, entirely missing the subtle shift in the beast-kin's aura. "So how old are you right now? If you tell me your current age, we can just do some quick math and trace it back to the painting. Easy peasy!"
"......."
Zerav went entirely quiet. The only sound in the hallway was the rhythmic thud of their boots against the floorboards. Casel blinked, looking at the side of Zerav's face, waiting for a response that never came.
"Uh... alright," Casel stammered slightly, but his stubborn nature refused to let the topic drop. "So, what about things like your birthday? You can't tell me you've never had a birthday party before? When do you guys usually blow out the candles and eat cake?"
Zerav stopped walking. The sudden halt caused Elisa and Alium to nearly bump into each other behind him.
The beast-kin turned his head slowly, his purple, slit-pupil eyes boring directly into Casel's face with a cold, hollow neutrality that instantly froze the words in the noble boy's throat. There was no anger in Zerav's expression—only a profound, exhaustion that felt entirely unnatural for someone his age.
"Yes," Zerav said simply, his voice flat. "I can tell you that. I have never had a birthday before."
Before Casel could even process the devastating weight of those words, Zerav sharply shrugged Casel's hand off his shoulder with a quick, fluid motion. He turned back around and accelerated his pace, rapidly putting distance between himself and the four nobles, leaving Casel standing entirely stunned and speechless in the middle of the corridor.
Lyra walked past Casel, casting a quiet, knowing glance at his bewildered expression. Caspian's words from the infirmary echoed perfectly in her mind:
"While normal kids were playing with toys, we were being systematically taught the brutal art of war."