?Aelira sat at the grand mahogany table, her small hands clasped tight in her lap until her knuckles turned white.

  ?The silver plates gleamed under the muted morning light, untouched. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meat and heavy spices, but to Aelira, it smelled like stagnation. Like old blood scrubbed poorly from the floor.

  ?I wonder if Sensei left already.

  ?Her gaze traced the intricate carvings on the high ceiling, trying to ignore the suffocating silence.

  ?Click. Click.

  ?Footsteps echoed against the marble.

  ?“Good morning, Mother,” Aelira whispered.

  ?Vivianne entered. She moved with a regal grace, but the shadows under her eyes betrayed her exhaustion. She scanned the empty seats with disdain.

  ?“Where is Zaek?” Her voice was crisp. “Did the old dog wander off again?”

  ?“Yes,” Aelira murmured. “He said... he had to go.”

  ?“Typical.” Vivianne pressed long fingers to her temple. “He comes and goes as he pleases, treating this house like a tavern.” Her eyes narrowed. “And the others? It is past the hour.”

  ?Aelira shrank back. “I... I don’t know.”

  ?Before Vivianne could press further, the heavy doors creaked open. Wilkram strolled in, stifling a loud yawn, his coat buttoned wrong.

  ?“Morning,” he mumbled, collapsing into a chair.

  ?“What took you so long?” Vivianne’s tone could have cut glass.

  ?“Do you know how crowded it was yesterday?” Wilkram grumbled, rubbing his face. “I’m exhausted. My legs are killing me.”

  ?“As if you did a single thing,” she scoffed. “I spoke to every guest, handled every arrangement. You? You were busy grinning at every skirt that passed by.”

  ?“I was receiving condolences!” he protested weakly. “People were sad, Vivianne. I was comforting them.”

  ?“Comforting? You were embarrassing us.” She poured herself water, the pitcher rattling slightly against the glass. “Just ensure no rumors start. Do you know where everyone else is?”

  ?“No idea. I’m starving. Can’t we just start—”

  ?“I wouldn’t recommend that, Uncle Wilkram.”

  ?A smooth, velvety voice drifted from the doorway.

  ?Cassian stood there, leaning against the frame. His green eyes gleamed like polished emeralds, holding a calm, unnerving confidence.

  ?“You know very well,” Cassian continued, stepping into the room, “that Grandfather doesn’t take kindly to impatience.”

  ?“Cassian,” Vivianne said flatly.

  ?“Good morning, Aunt Vivianne.” He offered a flawless, theatrical bow. “I trust you slept well?”

  ?“I wasn’t aware you had arrived.”

  ?“We came late last night,” he replied easily. “We hoped to join the funeral... but plans changed. The roads were treacherous.”

  ?“So my brother is here as well?”

  ?“Indeed. Uncle Lucien is just behind me. He’s resting. It was a... trying journey for him.”

  ?“I’m sure it was.” Her lips curled into a sneer.

  ?A hesitant shuffle broke the tension. Lucien appeared at the threshold. He looked pale, his shoulders hunched as if carrying an invisible weight.

  ?“G-good morning...”

  ?“Oh,” Vivianne said, her voice dripping with saccharine malice. “We were just speaking of you, ‘Hero.’”

  ?“Vivianne...” Wilkram warned nervously.

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  ?“Why don’t you take a seat?” She gestured to the chair opposite her. “Tell us all about your glorious adventures. Did you slay many dragons? Or did you just run away again?”

  ?Lucien froze. His fists clenched at his sides, trembling. “This is... not the time.”

  ?“Yes,” Cassian cut in, placing a hand on Lucien’s shoulder—a gesture that looked supportive but felt restraining. “We just buried my mother yesterday. Let us have some peace.”

  ?“Is that so?” Vivianne turned her viper-like gaze to Cassian. “Forgive me. Since you seemed so... cheerful, I must have forgotten you were grieving.”

  ?“Is it not a noble trait,” Cassian replied softly, his eyes narrowing into crescents, “to keep one’s composure, no matter the storm?”

  ?Sparks seemed to fly between them. The air grew heavy, almost hard to breathe. Aelira lowered her head, wishing she could dissolve into the floorboards.

  ?Make it stop. Please.

  ?Suddenly, the temperature in the room plummeted.

  ?The double doors didn't just open; they were thrown wide.

  ?Sylas Viremont entered.

  ?He walked with a heavy cane, but he didn’t need it. His silver hair was perfectly kept, his presence crushing the room into submission. He brushed past Celdric, who was trying to assist him, and claimed the head of the table like a king ascending a throne.

  ?Everyone stood instantly. Chairs scraped against the floor in unison.

  ?Sylas sat. He didn't look at them. He stared straight ahead.

  ?“Sit.”

  ?They obeyed.

  ?“Zaek is gone,” Sylas stated. It wasn't a question. “And Lysric? Where is he?”

  ?“He’s... unwell, Father,” Celdric began carefully. “The fever—”

  ?“Unwell?” Sylas turned his head slowly. “Even if his limbs were rotting off, he would sit at this table. Bring him.”

  ?“Father, I don’t think—”

  ?“Bring. Him.”

  ?Sylas gestured to two guards by the door. They vanished into the hallway.

  ?Minutes passed in agonizing silence.

  ?Then, screaming echoed from the corridor.

  ?“LET ME GO! DO YOU HEAR ME?!”

  ?Lysric was dragged into the room, kicking and thrashing. His eyes were wild, red-rimmed and frantic. He looked like a cornered animal.

  ?“Sit,” Sylas commanded.

  ?“Grandfather, I can’t—I don’t want to be here!”

  ?“SIT. DOWN.”

  ?The voice was not loud, but it carried the weight of a judge’s gavel.

  ?Lysric collapsed into his chair, shaking violently, burying his face in his hands.

  ?“You are a Viremont,” Sylas said, his voice low and merciless. “Even if the earth swallows your kin, you will not falter. Do you understand?” His gaze swept the table, burning with cold fire. “Do all of you understand?”

  ?“Yes, Grandfather,” the chorus came, weak and brittle.

  ?“Good.” Sylas leaned back. “Eat.”

  ?Cutlery scraped against china. It sounded like swords clashing in the silence. Aelira forced a piece of meat into her mouth, though it tasted like ash.

  ?Ten minutes later, Sylas stood up. His chair groaned.

  ?“Do as you will. I have no more words for you.”

  ?With that, the Patriarch left. His shadow stretched long across the table, engulfing them all.

  ?For a moment, there was peace.

  ?Then Vivianne picked up her wine glass. “Why was he so angry?” Her knuckles were white. “Did something happen with the estate?”

  ?“Nothing that concerns you, sister,” Celdric replied, his voice icy. He turned to his son. “Lysric, go to your room.”

  ?“Yes, Father...” The boy fled the room as if the hounds of hell were snapping at his heels.

  ?“Worried about your son now, are you?” Vivianne took a sip, her eyes over the rim sharp as needles.

  ?“Watch your tongue, Vivianne.”

  ?“Or what? Your ambition is about to ruin us, Celdric. Everyone sees it.”

  ?“Everything I have done was for this family!” Celdric slammed his hand on the table. “Unlike you. What have you done besides buy silk and gossip? While I manage the mines, you play house!”

  ?Smash.

  ?Vivianne threw her glass. It shattered against the table edge, red wine bleeding across the white tablecloth like a fresh wound.

  ?“I sacrificed everything for this family!” she hissed, standing up. “Don't you dare judge me!”

  ?“Stop... please...” Aelira whispered, her hands covering her ears.

  ?“C-calm down, both of you,” Lucien stammered. “This isn’t the right time.”

  ?“Oh? And when is the right time, Hero?” Vivianne turned on him, her fury finding a new target. “When we’re buried in shame? When our name is dust? You ran away because you were weak!”

  ?Lucien flinched as if struck. His breath hitched. He stood abruptly, his chair screeching.

  ?“You...” His voice cracked. He couldn't finish. He turned and stormed out, the door slamming shut behind him.

  ?“Ara, ara,” Cassian murmured, wiping a speck of wine from his sleeve. He stood with a placid smile. “I suppose I should go check on him.”

  ?He left in a whisper of silk, leaving the battlefield behind.

  ?“Did you enjoy that?” Celdric spat.

  ?“Me? You lit the fire, dear brother.”

  ?“Stop it! Just stop it!”

  ?Aelira’s voice ripped through the air, raw and trembling.

  ?The table went silent.

  ?She stood up, tears streaming down her face, her small fists clenching the tablecloth. “Can’t you see? We’re falling apart! Aunt Elda died only yesterday—and you... you’re tearing everything to pieces!”

  ?Celdric looked at her, his expression unreadable. Then he scoffed, turning away. Vivianne just stared, her mask cracking for a brief second before hardening again.

  ?Aelira didn't wait for a response. She turned and ran.

  ?She ran until her lungs burned, bursting out into the garden. The cold wind hit her face, drying her tears but not the ache in her chest.

  ?Calm down. Just breathe.

  ?She sank onto a stone bench, staring at the withered flowerbed.

  ?“Lady Aelira?”

  ?Her nanny, Aisha, appeared from the shadows.

  ?“Leave me alone,” Aelira choked out. “Please, Aisha. Just... leave me alone.”

  ?“As you wish.”

  ?As the maid’s footsteps faded, Aelira was left with only the rustling of dry leaves.

  ?“Why can’t they just... be a family?” she whispered to the dying flowers.

  ?Badum.

  ?Aelira stiffened.

  ?A strange pulse rolled through her body. It wasn't a sound; it was a vibration deep in her bones. Heavy. Ancient.

  ?What... was that?

  ?She looked around frantically. The garden was empty.

  ?Badum.

  It was stronger this time. Like a magnet pulling at her very soul. A call she couldn't ignore.

  ?Slowly, terrifyingly, she turned her head toward the tall hedge at the end of the path.

  ?The source wasn't far.

  ?It was coming from right around the corner.