Adrian stayed.

  By dawn, the safehouse brimmed with opulence—silk tapestries, spiced wine, a crib carved from moonwood for Amara. “Compliments of the Vallis estate,” he declared, though no carriage could’ve navigated the woods.

  Liam watched him through narrowed eyes. The Archduke’s charm was a blade sheathed in velvet—too smooth, too calculated.

  “Walk with me, grandson.” Adrian’s command brooked no refusal.

  They stopped at the brook where Liam trained. Adrian flicked his wrist; the water froze mid-cascade. “Your control improves, but you still fear the depths.”

  “Mara says—”

  “Mara fears what she cannot heal.” Adrian’s eyes hardened. “The Inquisition burns the marked, but we—we harness them.”

  He unbuttoned his cuff, revealing a faded Convergence Mark.

  Liam recoiled. “You’re—?”

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  “The first successful hybrid,” Adrian said bitterly. “My father’s experiment to merge mana and aura. It worked… mostly.”

  The truth unfolded like a poisoned bloom: Adrian’s political ascent, his “gifts” to the Church, all to shield his bloodline until the perfect hybrid emerged—Amara.

  “You’ll train at the estate,” Adrian said. “Both of you. My resources can suppress Amara’s Mark until she’s ready.”

  “Ready for what?”

  Adrian’s smile chilled Liam’s blood. “To end the Church’s reign, of course.”

  The Choice

  That night, Liam found Mara binding Amara’s Mark with fresh silk. “Grandfather wants to take us to the capital.”

  Mara’s hands stilled. “And you?”

  “He’s lying. Not about the Mark, but his reasons.” Liam touched Amara’s curls. “But staying here… she’ll never be safe.”

  Elric appeared in the doorway, his face haggard. “The wards detected Inquisitors. Ten miles east.”

  Adrian’s voice drifted from the shadows. “Tick-tock, children. The board is set—will you be pieces or players?”

  The Departure

  At dawn, the family boarded Adrian’s spectral carriage, its steeds forged from starlight. Amara slept against Liam’s chest, her breath warm through the silk.

  Adrian offered Mara a vial of duskflower elixir. “For the nightmares.”

  She recoiled. “I know what that brew costs.”

  “Ah, but family is priceless.” His wink held no mirth.

  As the woods faded, Liam opened Adrian’s “gift”—a grimoire page depicting a crowned child leading an army of shadows.

  Amara stirred, her eyes flickering violet.