The days following the Gathering passed slowly, like dust settling after a storm.
The manor no longer rang with laughter or the clinking of goblets only whispers. Servants spoke in half-sentences, afraid their words might stir old ghosts.
Every corridor held the faint echo of that night the tension between Varian and Taron, the quiet power that had coiled through the hall before Taron walked away.
Taron had left before dawn, not even waiting for the morning sun to grace the courtyard.
Some said he fled in shame after defying the lord of the house. Others claimed he left because he feared the rage inside him a storm he couldn't trust around those he loved.
Only Selene knew the truth was softer.
Before leaving, Taron had found her in the garden. His voice had carried a tired warmth, and his eyes, once sharp as tempered steel, seemed dulled by years of exile and regret.
"Selene," he had said, his tone almost tender. "It's been long since we last met. You were just a teenager then… and now you have a family of your own. I wish you nothing but peace. Your son he'll achieve great things, I can feel it. Tell me what affinity he awakens with when we see each other next."
Those words stayed with her. She hadn't seen Taron in over a decade, yet in that moment, she'd glimpsed the brother she once knew proud, scarred, but still capable of kindness.
In the days that followed, Kaelen and Selene avoided Varian entirely.
They ate their meals in their quarters and kept to the manor's quieter wings.
Only Calista, Selene's elder sister, came to visit each day without fail.
"I want to spend as much time with you as I can," Calista would say as she helped fold clothes or pack the chests. "Once you move, it'll be half a day's ride to reach you. I'm not young enough to make that trip often. So let me steal these mornings while I can."
Selene always smiled at that, but behind her eyes lingered the weight of parting.
Every time Calista turned to leave, Lucius would wave his tiny hand, and Selene's heart would tighten. There was love between the sisters quiet, unspoken, steady as the ticking of a clock counting down their remaining days together.
The manor, ancient and proud, seemed to sense the coming farewell.
Its stone corridors grew colder. The portraits of ancestors stared down like silent judges the banners of the Kairus family swayed faintly in the draft.
Kaelen spent his mornings in the training yard, his blade slicing through mist and memory alike.
He trained harder now every movement more deliberate, as if he could cut his past to ribbons. Sweat ran down his arms, steam rising in the chill air. The squires who watched him whispered among themselves, seeing in him a discipline they couldn't match.
Selene often stood at the balcony with Lucius in her arms, watching the man she'd chosen an outsider by blood, but a warrior by will.
By night, she'd sit with Calista by the fire, speaking of gentler things: what school Lucius might attend, whether he'd awaken one day, what kind of man he might become.
Sometimes, when the flames burned low, Selene would whisper,
"Maybe, just maybe, he'll awaken something new something the Kairus blood hasn't seen before."
And Calista would smile sadly,
"Then make sure he's ready for what that means."
At last, the final morning came.
Most of the trunks were already packed and sealed. The maids had wrapped the furniture in linen, and the scent of dust and lavender polish filled the rooms.
Outside, the air carried a brittle chill the kind that foretold the coming winter.
Kaelen woke before dawn, as he always did. For a long while, he simply sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the faint blue light spilling through the curtains.
The chamber felt hollow, stripped of life. Yet for the first time in years, he didn't feel trapped. He felt… free.
No more scornful looks from relatives.
No more summons from Varian meant only to shame me.
No more pretending to belong to a family that never wanted me.
Today, that ends.
He turned and brushed a hand through Selene's hair.
She groaned softly and buried her face in the pillow.
"You need to wake up, my love," Kaelen whispered. "The sun's nearly up. We should start preparing."
"Just five more minutes," she mumbled.
"No, my love, I can't do that."
He grinned and, in a single smooth motion, lifted her from the bed and slung her over his shoulder.
Selene gasped, laughing in surprise as her fists pounded weakly against his back.
"Kaelen! Put me down this instant!"
He chuckled, the sound deep and warm. When he set her down, she stood before him, hair wild, eyes narrowed but her blush betrayed her anger.
He leaned close and kissed her forehead.
"You're beautiful when you're furious."
She sighed, pretending to glare.
"Fine. You take care of Lucius while I get ready. Put something warm on him it's freezing out there."
"Already on it."
He fastened a tiny coat around Lucius' shoulders and smiled down at the sleepy boy. "I'll take him on one last walk. You have two hours, my dear."
Selene watched them leave, her heart full. For a moment, she wished time would slow just enough to make the morning last forever.
Kaelen walked through the east wing, his boots echoing softly on the marble floor.
Lucius dozed against his shoulder, warm and heavy.
They passed under tall portraits of Kairus ancestors, their faces half-hidden in shadow.
He stopped before each one, whispering to his son as if sharing a secret.
"That's Helian the Storm Veil. He united the southern houses with the great treaty of Four Winds. Without him, Galahan might still be at war."
"And there Maeron Kairus, the Living Flame. He held the Blackwater Front for fourteen days alone, while the rivers boiled with fire."
"That one, Aleria Kairus, the Healing Maiden she saved more lives than most men ever take. They say the gods wept when she died."
Lucius blinked up at the paintings, fascinated by the gleam of gold leaf and the swirl of colors.
Kaelen smiled faintly. "You come from greatness, little one. But don't let their shadows decide who you become."
They reached the main hall the heart of the Kairus estate.
Sunlight filtered through stained glass, casting rivers of color across the floor.
At the far end stood the Hall of Relics.
Kaelen entered quietly, reverence in every step.
Weapons, trinkets, and heirlooms rested on velvet stands silent witnesses of a thousand victories.
He stopped before a small glass case. Inside lay a slender silver ring: The Tempest Signet.
It shimmered faintly, like a raindrop suspended in air.
"They say this ring could calm any flame that touched its bearer," Kaelen said softly. "But only if their heart was truly still. Few ever managed that."
Next, his gaze fell upon a charred length of chain The Silent Prayer.
Its links glowed faintly red, as though some ember still burned within.
"Maeron wore that on his last day," Kaelen murmured. "It holds the last of his fire a final promise never to be consumed."
Lucius reached out a small hand, touching the glass. The faint warmth startled him, and Kaelen smiled.
"Not yet, little one. One day, perhaps."
They left the hall together.
When Kaelen opened the front doors, a sharp gust of wind rushed through, carrying the scent of pine and frost.
The courtyard below teemed with motion horses being bridled, wagons loaded, servants shouting instructions. The sound of iron and leather filled the air.
A butler approached, bowing low.
"Good morning, sir. Preparations are nearly complete. We expect to depart within the hour."
"Excellent." Kaelen nodded. "You've done well. My family is grateful."
He walked toward a bench near the training yard, cradling Lucius as the boy's head fell against his chest. The rhythmic clatter of swords filled the air squires sparring under the pale sky.
Kaelen watched them silently.
Their stances were uneven, their strikes hesitant. He couldn't help but smile.
Solid fundamentals, he thought, but too cautious. I could disarm them without drawing steel. I wouldn't even need to touch the Beast Will.
He sat there for two hours, the quiet stretching like a held breath. Occasionally, he spoke softly to his son stories of battlefronts, distant lands, the tribes of the northern wilds. Lucius slept through it all, tiny fingers curled around his father's cloak.
The sound of hurried footsteps broke the stillness.
Warm hands slipped over Kaelen's eyes from behind.
He laughed softly. "Are you done, my dear?"
"How did you know it was me?" Selene's voice teased behind him.
"The day I can't recognize your touch," he said, turning his head slightly, "will be the day I lay down to die."
He caught her wrist gently and pulled her forward until their foreheads met. She tried to look stern, but her smile betrayed her.
"You realize," she said, "that departure was an hour ago?"
Kaelen blinked, feigning confusion.
"Was it?"
"If I'm here, and you're here," she said with mock severity, "how could we possibly have departed an hour ago?"
Silence.
Then Kaelen chuckled. "Right… we haven't."
Selene laughed and kissed his cheek.
"Then come, husband. Let's not miss the sunrise."
As they walked toward the wagons, the household gathered to see them off servants, squires, a few distant cousins. Even Calista was there, wrapped in a pale cloak, eyes glistening.
"Write to me," she whispered as she embraced Selene. "Every week, or I'll come find you myself."
"I promise," Selene said, voice trembling. "Take care of yourself, sister."
Kaelen mounted first, then reached down to lift Lucius onto the saddle before him. The boy giggled as the horse shifted beneath them. Selene climbed up behind, her arms circling them both.
The gates of the Kairus manor creaked open.
The banners stirred in the cold wind, and the morning light spilled across the courtyard soft, golden, forgiving.
Kaelen looked back one last time.
The manor loomed against the rising sun, proud and silent. For a heartbeat, he thought he saw the faint shimmer of the Tempest Signet glinting through the hall window as if the past itself were bidding him farewell.
Then he turned away.
The horses started forward, hooves striking the frost-hardened earth.
"Goodbye, old home," he murmured. "May you keep your ghosts well."
The road stretched out before them winding through forests of silver bark and hills veiled in morning mist. Somewhere ahead lay their new beginning.
Behind them, Galahan's oldest bloodline watched in silence as one of its forgotten sons rode out into the dawn carrying with him the heir who would one day shake the world