The grand hall of Draeger Manor was alive with the sound of laughter and clinking goblets. The long tables overflowed with lavish dishes, the air thick with the aroma of spiced meats and sweetened pastries.
Relatives, noble allies, and esteemed members of the Umbren tribe had gathered in abundance, all in high spirits to honor a significant occasion , the seventeenth name day of Lucien Draeger.
Lord Malric Draeger, the head of the Umbren tribe and a man known for his stern, unyielding presence, sat in the hallway adjoining the grand chamber, his brow furrowed in silent thought. Though he bore the air of a formidable leader, his heart carried the quiet weight of a father who seldom found the opportunity to reach the son he once held as an infant.
He had dispatched his assistant personally to fetch Lucien, hoping that his son would grace the gathering, if only for appearances. Yet, time dragged on, and no sign of the young master appeared.
The guests were entertained and the hall echoed with revelry, but Lord Draeger's sharp gaze often strayed toward the entrance, his anticipation gradually hardening into frustration. The entire estate hummed with energy, yet one presence remained painfully absent , the one person this celebration revolved around.
Lucien Draeger.
Unlike the rest, Lucien had barricaded himself within the solitude of his vast chamber, refusing to emerge. He loathed this day more than any other, a date that served as an annual reminder of everything he had lost.
The day of his birth was not a day of joy for him , instead it was a curse.
Though Lord Draeger had granted his son every privilege and luxury a noble heir could possess, one irreplaceable thing was forever absent: a mother's touch. Lady Selene Draeger, the woman once treasured above all, had died giving birth to Lucien. Her death cast a long, cold shadow over the boy's life.
In the years that followed, his father, burdened by political affairs and the duties of leadership, remained distant. And though Lucien was surrounded by the finest maids and attendants, their words and whispers sharp as daggers left wounds no healer could mend.
"Ifnot for him, the Lady would still be alive."
"He's a curse upon this house."
"The master cannot bear the sight of his own son."
These words, spoken carelessly within the manor's corridors, were cruelly heard by the ears of a child who had no defense against their poison. Rumors became truths in the young mind of Lucien Draeger. And though his father, in recent years, attempted to bridge the chasm between them, the seeds of doubt had long since taken root. Every kind gesture was met with suspicion, every paternal effort viewed as mere obligation.
Thus was born the man who now haunted the halls of the Draeger estate.
At seventeen, Lucien was a masterpiece of contradictions. His face was breathtaking, dangerously beautiful, with features sharp as sculpted marble. Hair as dark as raven's feathers framed a face pale as fresh-fallen snow. But it was his eyes that rendered others powerless ;
eyes so deep, so impenetrably black, one could easily believe they held the abyss itself. No one dared meet his gaze. It was said that the mere touch of his stare could make a grown man shudder.
He exuded an aura of darkness so potent it seemed the air itself bent around him. Majestic and ominous, Lucien Draeger was a name spoken in both reverence and dread.
While Lord Malric Draeger's reputation was forged by his compassion for his people and unwavering justice, Lucien was considered his opposite. He bore no kindness, showed no mercy, and carried the reputation of a heartless successor. Yet few knew the truth—that circumstances and venomous tongues had forged this formidable mask.
Is he the downfall, or the rise of the Umbren tribe?
None could say.
Just then, the Lord's assistant returned, his face ashen with discomfort. At once, Malric Draeger straightened, his voice sharp.
"Where is Lucien? I ordered you to bring him."
"My Lord," the man stammered, bowing deeply, "the young master refuses to come. He was… furious. He asked me to leave at once."
Malric clenched his jaw. "Foolish boy. The entire tribe waits for him."
He thought for a moment, then barked, "Find old Lady Aldara. She's the only one he listens to. Tell her to bring him here."
"At once, my Lord."
The assistant hastened away toward the quarters of old Lady Aldara , the woman who had cared for Lucien since his infancy. Childless herself, she had poured every ounce of her affection into the boy, becoming both protector and confidante in a house thick with silent judgment.
When informed of the situation, Madam Aldara gave a weary sigh. "Ah… the stubbornness of that child remains unmatched." She rose slowly, her joints stiff with age but her spirit undiminished. "Leave it to me."
"It would be an honor, Madam Aldara," the assistant bowed and withdrew.
He , too, was a peculiar figure. A loyal servant of the house, his origins were a mystery. Found abandoned on the estate grounds as a child, raised without parentage, he had pledged his life to House Draeger. His name was Garron Vale. And though his background was as shadowed as the young master's soul, none could question his devotion.
Madam Aldara approached Lucien's door, knocking gently.
A cold voice, laced with fury, called out from within. "Itold you to leave. Tell my father I'm not coming."
"It's me, dear child," came Aldara's calm reply. "It's your Aunt Aldara."
There was a pause. Then the door creaked open.
Lucien Draeger stood before her, an imposing figure even in youth. The flickering candlelight casts angular shadows across his flawless face, accentuating the cold sharpness in his gaze. Clad entirely in black, his hair fell in silken waves over his eyes, a dark crown for a somber prince.
Despite the storm within him, a flicker of softness appeared in his eyes at the sight of Aldara.
"I know why you've come, Aunt Aldara," he said, his voice a velvet threat.
"Then hear me, child," she replied gently. "Today is your name day. Go. It is your duty to stand beside your father, if only for his sake."
Lucien's jaw clenched. "You know what awaits me out there, Aunt. I cannot endure their looks, their poisonous words. What if… what if I lose control?"
Aldara reached for his hand, her touch warm against the coldness of his skin. "You have carried their cruelty since you first drew breath. And yet here you stand. Lucien, you are not ordinary. You were born under the rarest of moons, in the hour of shadow's peak. There is strength in you beyond even your knowing."
He sighed heavily, running a hand through his raven hair. "I hate them all."
"I know," Aldara whispered. "But you must go."
For a long moment, silence passed between them. Then, reluctantly, Lucien inclined his head. "Fine… but do not expect me to smile."
"I wouldn't dare," she smirked softly.
Without another word, Lucien Draeger strode from the room, his presence chilling the air around him as he passed. The old woman watched him go, her voice barely a whisper.
"Lucien Draeger… today is the day. Many secrets await you, child. The legend of the curse is not yet done with you. May you find the strength to endure what lies ahead."
---
To be continued.....
Chapter 5...