The final bell of the day rang across the Royal Arcane Academy like a distant temple gong, releasing a flood of students into the late-afternoon sunlight. Kaiser Warborn walked beside his sister through the wide colonnades, Elara's arm still looped tightly through his as if she feared the violet-eyed lecturer might appear again at any moment.
"You're really going to see that dusty old relic after this?" Elara grumbled, kicking a loose pebble with her boot. "He always smells like moth-eaten scrolls and cheap pipeweed."
Kaiser gave a low chuckle. "He's useful. And he might know something about the Voss siblings."
Elara rolled her rose-pink eyes. "Fine. But you're still buying those honey-cakes. And I'm coming with you to the market first. No arguments."
They stopped at the shaded vendor stalls just outside the academy gates. Kaiser paid for a warm paper cone of sticky honey-cakes glazed with spiced sugar. Elara immediately claimed three, popping one into her mouth with a satisfied hum while offering the next to him. Their fingers brushed again—another casual, intimate little moment that made her cheeks flush the faintest pink.
"Indirect kiss number two today," she teased around the mouthful.
Kaiser smirked. "You're keeping count now?"
"Always."
He left her at the carriage with a promise to return before sunset, then turned toward the older quarter of the city. The streets grew narrower, lined with ivy-covered stone towers and shops selling rare reagents. At the end of a quiet alley stood a modest but heavily warded townhouse, its door marked with a faded sigil only those who knew what to look for could see.
Kaiser pressed his palm to the ward-stone. The door clicked open.
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of aged parchment and arcane incense. Bookshelves towered to the ceiling, stuffed with grimoires bound in dragonhide and crystal orbs that floated lazily in mid-air. At a massive oak desk sat an elderly man with a long silver beard, half-moon spectacles perched on his nose, and robes that had seen better centuries.
"Old man," Kaiser greeted, closing the door behind him.
Archmage Thorne looked up, bushy brows rising. "Well, if it isn't the Honoured Son himself. To what do I owe the displeasure of your visit, boy? Usually you only darken my doorstep when something's gone and poked the hornet's nest of your perfect little life."
Kaiser dropped into the chair opposite the desk without invitation. "Two people at the academy today. Eldric Voss and his sister, Lady Seraphine Voss. Both hiding their true power. She called me the Honoured Son to my face. Knew things she shouldn't."
Thorne's pipe paused halfway to his lips. He set it down slowly. "Voss… Voss… Ah. The enclave bloodline. I've heard whispers. They're watchers—old families tasked by the High Conclave to keep an eye on god-touched lines like yours. But they don't usually reveal themselves so boldly."
He leaned forward, eyes sharp despite his age. "And Seraphine called you that? Out loud? In daylight? That's not caution, lad. That's interest. The kind that gets people killed… or recruited."
Kaiser's piercing blue eyes narrowed. "Recruited for what?"
Thorne waved a hand, and a floating orb lit up with faint holographic runes showing the Warborn family crest intertwined with ancient divine sigils. "Your blessing—the one that makes you stronger, faster, sharper than any mortal has a right to be—isn't just a family quirk. It's the mark of the Honoured One. A divine mandate from the old gods themselves. Most who carry even a fraction of it end up as legends… or corpses. You've been coasting on it like it's a casual gift. But now the enclave is sniffing around. They want to know if you're the one the prophecies spoke of."
Kaiser leaned back, arms crossed. "And what do you think?"
The old archmage studied him for a long moment, then let out a dry laugh. "I think you're exactly that, you cocky bastard. But you're also still a boy who lets his sister ride on his back like a pony and flirts with half the academy without realizing it. The enclave won't care about your domestic bliss. They'll want to test you. Or use you."
He tapped the desk. A small enchanted ledger appeared, pages flipping open to show sketches of Eldric and Seraphine. "Watch them. Especially the sister. That one has the look of someone who's already decided you're worth the risk. And if she pushes… well, you know what to do."
Kaiser stood. "I always do."
Thorne smirked. "Yes, yes. The great Kaiser Warborn, peerless and untouchable. Just remember—even the Honoured One can be surprised. Now get out of my study before you ruin my afternoon nap."
As Kaiser turned to leave, the old man called after him. "One more thing, boy. That emerald amulet of yours… it's been glowing more lately, hasn't it? Means the gods are paying attention again. Try not to break the world before supper."
Kaiser stepped back into the alley, the late sun warming his white hair. The emerald amulet pulsed once against his chest—warm, steady, almost amused.
He made his way back toward the academy gates where Elara waited, leaning against the carriage with the half-empty cone of honey-cakes and a pout already forming.
"You took forever," she complained, immediately hopping onto his back the moment he was close enough. Her arms looped around his neck, legs around his waist. "Did the old relic say anything useful?"
Kaiser caught her thighs easily, carrying her toward the carriage as though she weighed nothing. "Plenty. We'll talk at home."
Elara rested her chin on his shoulder, breath warm against his ear. "Good. Because Mother's making your favorite roast tonight, and I already told her you'd be carrying me the whole way home if you made me wait."
He laughed softly, the sound rich and carefree. "Spoiled."
"Your favorite kind of spoiled," she whispered, pressing a quick, playful kiss to his cheek.
The carriage rolled out of the city as the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in golds and violets. Kaiser Warborn rode with his sister on his back, the weight of ancient prophecies and watchful eyes on his shoulders.
But for now, the road home was simple, warm, and entirely his.