Leaving the Patriarch’s hall, I took a deep breath, trying to shake off the pressure of that conversation.

  But it was impossible to erase from my mind the image of Catarina bending in pain. And the look my father gave her… it wasn’t anger. It was a sentence.

  “What did she want to say?”

  “Why did he react like that?”

  — Young master? — Le?ncio called, waiting for me outside. — Are you well? Your face looks… troubled.

  I forced a half-smile.

  — I’m fine… just thinking. I have to prepare for the festival and for the tournament. No time to waste.

  — If you need anything, I’ll be close, — he said, bowing respectfully.

  I walked alone toward the lower city, the sounds of the crowd mixing with my thoughts.

  “I will prove I’m not just an empty shell.”

  “Even if no one believes… I’ll make them see.”

  The streets were decorated with colorful banners, and the capital pulsed with expectation. Children ran wearing masks of the four elven clans. Statues of ancient heroes watched in silence. But whenever I passed someone…

  They turned their eyes away.

  I tried speaking with possible recruits. Shared my idea. Invited them to join the Tenth House.

  But no one listened. Some laughed. Others pretended to be busy.

  “Does no one see me as Kyros’ heir?”

  “Will… no one ever see me?”

  I was almost ready to give up when I heard muffled cries from a nearby alley.

  — No… please… don’t do this…

  I ran. Turning the corner, I found three armed men surrounding two youths — a boy with orange hair and bronze-toned skin, and a girl with cold features and silver eyes. Elves. Twins.

  The boy shielded his sister with his trembling body.

  — Shut up, filthy elf, — one of the thugs growled. — We’ll rip your tongue out if you keep barking.

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  — The boy’s not worth much, — another mocked, — but the sister… oh, she’s worth at least fifty gold Reis. Maybe more. Winter elf, pale skin, misty eyes… collectors pay well.

  My blood boiled.

  I stepped forward.

  — Hey. Scum. My voice came out dry. — What do you think you’re doing on festival day?

  The three turned. The leader sneered at me.

  — Well, well… if it isn’t the failure of the Fernandes. Did you come to beg someone to join your “house”? You should be training, not playing at Patriarch.

  He walked closer, venomous smile.

  — Are you sure you’re the Thunder Phantom’s son? Your mother must have been a—

  BOOOOM!

  A burst of pink aura exploded through the alley. Dust and leaves flew everywhere. The thug speaking was thrown against old barrels, groaning.

  — What the hell was that?! — shouted the second.

  — Brother… a voice called from behind me. — Why did you let them talk so much?

  Leli.

  Arms crossed, expression impatient, her aura still pulsing like an enchanted thunderclap.

  — You’re too soft. You don’t have to wait to get hit before reacting.

  — Leli?! I… I didn’t need your help! I was going to handle it myself!

  — Sure… She sighed. — That’s why you were standing there, hand trembling, right?

  She turned and walked away.

  — See you. Call me if you want to be rescued again.

  She vanished into the street like a pink lightning bolt, leaving silence and shame behind.

  One of the thugs tried to run. I moved. My body acted before my mind.

  I wasn’t strong like Leli. But I knew how to fight.

  I grabbed his wrist, turned my shoulder, and threw him against the wall with a defensive move I had learned in training.

  — Argh!

  The third thug looked around, realized he was alone, and limped away.

  — This isn’t over, failure! The city will remember who you really are!

  — Good, I muttered. — Because I’ll remember you too.

  I turned to the elves.

  — Are you alright?

  The boy was breathing hard but nodded.

  — Yes… yes… If not for you and that girl…

  — That girl is my sister, I said, trying not to smile. — Her name is Leli.

  — Then… you are…

  — Lukas Fernandes.

  His eyes widened. He dropped to his knees.

  — Young master! A thousand pardons! I didn’t know—

  — Stand up. I don’t like these formalities. I offered my hand. — What’s your name?

  — Aníbal. Aníbal Barca. This is my twin sister, Amélia.

  I studied them more closely. Amélia was a typical winter elf: silver hair, cold eyes, an ethereal presence. But Aníbal… his orange hair gleamed under the sunset, skin warm like a summer elf.

  — Wait… you’re twins?

  — Yes, he answered. — But I am… different.

  — Variant? I asked, lowering my voice.

  He nodded, hesitant.

  — We are from the nation of the winter elves. But I was born with the blessing of summer. Because of that… I am considered an abomination by some. Others… say I am a bad omen. The truth is… variants like me are often geniuses. But never welcome.

  — And you, Amélia? I asked, curious.

  She lifted her silver eyes.

  — I am like the others. A winter elf. But I have no one else besides my brother. So… I follow him.

  A respectful silence passed between us.

  — You seek a new life, don’t you? I asked. — Something far from the judgments of the North?

  — Yes, said Aníbal. — We heard this city… that your father… offers true refuge. But we were deceived on the way. Almost sold. If not for you…

  — If you want a new beginning… I drew a breath. — Join my house.

  Aníbal’s eyes widened.

  — Truly?

  — Truly. I need allies. And you… seem like the right kind.

  He smiled, moved.

  — With honor. We will follow you.

  Amélia nodded. Only that. But it was enough.

  And in that moment… the Tenth House gained its first two members. A winter elf with the soul

  of summer. And a cold elf whose eyes still knew how to trust.

  End of Chapter 4