House Ardent stood as one of the empire's oldest and most prestigious noble lineages—a name carved deep into the annals of history. Their crimson banners, emblazoned with the blazing phoenix, were symbols of resilience, power, and rebirth.
The estate itself was vast and imposing. High stone walls encircled a fortress of sprawling gardens, grand halls, and towering spires that pierced the sky. Each structure was a masterpiece of architecture, blending ancient stonework with enchantments that shimmered faintly in the sunlight.
Inside, the great hall was a cavernous space, where generations of Ardents had gathered beneath chandeliers forged from enchanted crystal. Walls adorned with tapestries told tales of battles fought and won, of alliances cemented in blood and fire. Polished suits of armor lined the corridors, silent sentinels guarding a legacy forged through centuries of loyalty to the empire.
Magic was a common thread woven into the very fabric of the estate. The grounds thrummed with latent power—enchanted gardens that bloomed year-round, protective wards that shimmered unseen, and halls that whispered echoes of long-forgotten spells.
Within these walls, history lived and breathed, a constant reminder that power was never granted—it was taken, held, and fiercely defended.
Kael's eyes flickered toward Maris, the young servant who had quietly waited by the doorway. Her delicate hands trembled slightly as she held the tray, a mix of reverence and nervousness in her gaze.
"Very well," Kael said, his voice low and devoid of warmth. The single phrase broke the silence like a crack in cold stone, simple yet commanding.
Maris bowed her head, relief washing over her features. "I will prepare the gardens, Master Kael."
Without another word, Kael rose from the bed with deliberate calmness, every movement controlled, as if each step was measured against an unseen scale. The weight of the silent room pressed down on him, but he carried it with the quiet certainty of a man who knew there was no place for weakness here.
The faint sounds of life beyond the chamber—the soft clatter of footsteps, murmured conversations of servants—seemed distant, almost unreal. Kael's mind, however, was already elsewhere, distant from the present yet tethered to the impending shadows of his fate.
Alys lunged toward Elen with a crooked wooden branch, shouting, "Take this, villain!"
Elen dodged with a giggle, sweeping a foot through the grass. "You'll have to do better than that!"
The two danced through the garden, tangled in their private game of knights and outlaws. Their laughter was free, unshackled by fear or memory. For them, the world was still bright.
Kael approached silently. His steps stirred no petals, his shadow blending with the trimmed hedges and arching boughs. He stopped a short distance away, arms crossed, watching.
It was Elen who noticed him first.
Her smile faltered, though not from fear—something gentler. Respect, perhaps. Or wonder.
She tugged Alys's sleeve.
Alys turned, her mock-sword still raised, and then froze. "Kael!" she chirped, cheeks flushed.
Both girls straightened instinctively. The air shifted—still playful, but tempered.
Kael said nothing.
Elen stepped forward first. "We didn't mean to be too loud," she said, voice soft.
He looked at her, expression unreadable. "You weren't."
Alys fidgeted with the stick in her hand, then offered it toward him with both hands, as if presenting a ceremonial blade. "Do you want to join? You can be the dark knight."
A pause. Wind stirred the leaves. Somewhere, a bird called.
Kael looked at the offered stick, then at Alys.
"I don't fight children," he said flatly.
Alys grinned. "That's only because you'd lose."
Elen gasped. "Alys!"
Kael blinked once. He didn't smile, but neither did he turn away.
The girls glanced at each other—smiling now, unsure whether they were being scolded or tolerated.
Alys twirled her stick back into a ready stance. "One day, brother, you'll see. I'll be the strongest swordswoman in the empire!"
Kael turned slightly, his cloak trailing behind him. "Then practice harder. Your footing is sloppy."
She flushed. "It is not!"
He was already walking away.
Elen giggled behind her hands. Alys stomped the ground once, then pointed her stick like a commander rallying troops.
"Next time, dark knight," she declared, "you will kneel!"
Kael didn't respond.