Chapter 11: Fire Beneath the Mask
The road home was long and silent.
Eron moved through the misted valleys below Redglass Hold with his hood drawn low. The parchment he'd signed burned in his pocket, not from heat—but from weight.
His path now lay between diplomacy and war. And both roads were soaked in blood.
At his side, Eric's voice came in quieter than usual, subdued.
"They saw too much."
Eron didn't answer.
"They know your location, your banner, and me."
Still, he said nothing.
Finally, Eric added, "You need time. But they will not give it."
Eron stopped walking.
"No," he said. "They won't. But we'll take it."
---
Three days later, Caelora Hall was alive again with motion.
The forge burned late into the night. Rurik hammered out a new armor set using the alloy from the scavenged scouts. Lyra taught Nira how to mix herbs with flame salts. Kale trained near the edge of the territory, slicing shadow-dummies to ribbons.
But when Eron returned, the air shifted.
They gathered.
"You went alone," Lyra said quietly.
"Had to," Eron replied.
Rurik crossed his arms. "And now?"
Eron opened the scroll and laid it flat.
"They offered a seat. An observer's one. Which means they see us as noise. Not threat."
Kale grinned. "Then we change that."
Eron pointed at the clause about territory restriction.
"We can't expand within fifty kilometers of their strongholds."
"So," Nira said, eyes glinting, "we expand where they can't."
---
That night, Eron met Eric in the vault.
The AI's glow was steady. Calmer.
"They do not understand what Caelora once stood for," Eric said.
"Tell me," Eron said. "No riddles. No vague warnings."
There was a long pause.
Then a small panel opened on the vault wall.
Behind it—an emblem. Half crystal, half flame-forged steel.
"Caelora wasn't just a house," Eric said. "It was one of three dynasties that built the original city systems before the Collapse. Your bloodline carried command access over the AI council. Including me."
Eron stared at the emblem. It felt heavy even untouched.
"And now?"
Eric's tone changed.
"Now, you carry not just a banner. You carry keys. And those watching? Some serve the other two."
---
Far to the east, deep underground, a man in dark robes stared at an identical emblem—cracked and dusty.
"It's awake," he whispered.
A scarred woman beside him sneered. "So the last scion found his voice."
The man crushed a stone in his palm.
"Then we'll take his voice… and bury it again."
---