The fire in Mara’s hearth burned with an ancient, steady glow, casting warm light across the cramped room. The flicker of flames painted shadows on the walls that seemed to dance with memories long forgotten. Aerin sat on the worn armchair, knees pulled tight to her chest, eyes locked on the man before her—her uncle, the last remaining thread of the family she thought had been entirely unraveled by death and time.

  His eyes, the same steely gray as her mother’s, bore the weight of countless secrets. He sat hunched by the round table, fingers idly tracing the rim of an old wooden cup. A silence hung between them, heavy and cold with so evidently many unspoken words. The others had tended in the room next to them, leaving them to talk.

  “You have her eyes,” he finally said, voice cracking like the embers snapping in the fire. “Every time I look at you, I see her. Your mother.”

  Aerin swallowed hard, the familiar ache in her chest spreading. The memories rising within her, like she lost them all over again. “I wish I could remember her better,” she whispered. “I wish the memories hadn’t slipped through my fingers like sand. I’ve spent so many years trying to piece together who I am, who we were.”

  Her uncle nodded slowly, eyes reflecting the firelight like liquid silver. “They wanted you to forget, Aerin. King Hazrael knew that stripping you of your roots would weaken you, that the blood in your veins would be nothing but a forgotten tale if you never knew its strength. Without you knowing he could rule forever.”

  She looked down, the weight of his words pressing on her, a bittersweet confirmation of what she had always suspected. “I wandered through all of Enderris,” she said, her voice trembling with the effort to hold back tears. “I fought to survive, learned to wield a blade before I even knew why I needed it. I searched for answers in the ruins, in the whispers of old songs... and found nothing but silent echoes.”

  Her uncle’s face softened with a sorrow that spoke of shared loss. “I was in Thalindria when they came for our family,” he began, his voice a grave melody. “Training under masters who taught me to weave the ancient magics, to understand their depths. I thought I was safeguarding our legacy. I had no idea the storm that was brewing back home.”

  He paused, eyes distant as if seeing the past unfold before him. “When I learned what had happened, I returned, but it was too late. The kingdom had already fallen to King Hazrael, and I was forced into hiding, biding my time while every part of me screamed to come for you. I have been searching for you.”

  Aerin closed her eyes, feeling the heat of anger coil in her stomach. “And Kael... he fled because his father saw the danger. But he paid the price, didn’t he?” Her voice was sharp with the sting of betrayal. “The Priestess manipulated him, used his loyalty as a chain around his neck.”

  A sigh escaped her uncle’s lips, deep and knowing. “Yes. Kael was caught in her web, as so many are. But what you don’t know, Aerin, is that the Priestess is far older than we thought. Centuries have passed under her watchful gaze. She was there when Hazrael made his first move, aiding him in the dark, twisted path that led to your parents’ deaths. He is a pawn in her bigger plans.”

  A chill ran down Aerin’s spine, her breath catching as if the very air in the room had turned to ice. “She helped him?” The disbelief in her voice was palpable, disbelief wrapped in a cloak of fury. She had seen the priestess magic, it was strong, dark, full of shadows. He had only looked at Aerin and catched her with it, holding her hostage with a string of magic, draining her of everything. “But why?”

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  “Power, control, the same things that drive all sick tyrants and puppeteers,” her uncle replied, eyes hardening. “She sees far beyond the present, plays a game that spans lifetimes. And in King Hazrael, she found a cruel and empty vessel hungry enough to seize the throne and ruthless enough to keep it.”

  Aerin’s mind raced with the implications, the pieces falling together with cruel clarity. The nights she had spent in the dark forests of Enderris, the forest close to Yaveria, the whispers of shadows, the feeling of eyes watching her from the depths—everything made sense now.

  “But she underestimated you,” her uncle said, the barest hint of a smile touching his lips. “Just as KingHazrael did. You carry the blood of kings and queens, but more than that, you carry the will to fight for what they couldn’t.”

  Tears burned at the corners of Aerin’s eyes, unbidden and relentless. “I wish they were here,” she whispered, the confession breaking the last barrier in her voice. “I wish they could see me now, see that I’m trying to take back what they lost. What I lost.”

  Her uncle reached out, his calloused, thin and frail hand finding hers and squeezing gently. The touch sparked a rush of warmth, an old, powerful current of magic that surged through her veins, reminding her that she was not alone, that she was never alone.

  “They would be proud,” he said, his voice like an oath. “And we will make sure that when the storm comes, when King Hazrael faces the end of his reign, he will know that the fire he tried to extinguish has only grown stronger.” His eyebrows furrowed, “He is close, I can feel them. The Shadow Seekers. They’re coming.”

  The soft glow of dusk settled over Yaveria, casting long shadows that danced across the walls of Mara’s apartment. The air was thick, a quiet before the storm that left everyone restless. Aerin had left the apartment to confer with Talon and her uncle, leaving Kael and Elden alone, the silence between them stretched taut.

  Elden leaned casually against the round wooden table, arms crossed over his chest, a slight smirk playing on his lips. His eyes, always quick to spark with mischief, studied Kael with an assessing sharpness. “So, Sir Dravenfell,” he drawled, emphasizing the title with a touch of sarcasm, “ I've been meaning to ask, what brings you back into Aerin’s life after all these years? Sudden pangs of guilt, or just a change of heart?”

  Kael met Elden’s gaze, unflinching, the flicker of torchlight catching in the dark loose curls that framed his face. “I could ask the same, Stormblade. I hear your loyalty is as changeable as the wind.” His voice was steady, but there was an edge to it, like a sharp blade held just out of sight. “I’m here because I never stopped fighting for her. I really doubt you can say the same.”

  Elden’s jaw tightened, the playful mask slipping for a moment before he forced a laugh. “I see. The knight in shining armor, comes to claim his long-lost princess.” He tilted his head, a taunting glint in his eye. “Except, you’re a little late, don’t you think? Aerin’s already faced death more times than you can count while you were...where, exactly? In hiding? Making friends with the enemies on Thalindria.”

  Kael’s brows drew together, and for a brief moment, the room seemed to shrink around them. “You know nothing of what I’ve done or sacrificed,” he said, each word deliberate, vibrating with the weight of old wounds. “But I’m here now. And I won’t step aside. Never again.”

  A tense silence settled between them, broken only by the distant murmur of voices from the street below. Elden pushed himself away from the mantle, taking a step closer until the space between them was almost nonexistent. “Good,” he said quietly, an unexpected hint of sincerity softening his features. “Because she deserves someone who will stand by her, not just when it’s easy, but when it’s damn near impossible.”

  Kael’s expression shifted, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face before he nodded, tilting his head just once. “On that, at least, we agree.”

  Before the moment could settle, Aerin’s voice called from the door. “Are you two done posturing, or do I need to come in there and referee?”

  Elden’s smirk returned, his eyes still locked with Kael’s as he raised his voice. “Just comparing strategy notes, Aerin. Nothing to worry about.”

  Kael’s lips quirked up. “For now,” he muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for Elden to hear. The slight smile on Elden’s face suggested he had.

  They moved apart as Aerin stepped into the room, eyes flicking between them suspiciously. “I don’t know whether to be relieved or worried.”

  Elden chuckled. “Both, probably.”

  Kael’s gaze softened as it fell on her, the steel in his eyes giving way to a rare warmth. “Always both,” he said, the words layered with a promise that was not lost on her.