Theron stepped out of the Caelvaris estate, the heavy doors closing behind him with a dull, final thud.
The air was cooler here, making the faint scent of ash on him more obvious. His carriage stood waiting at the foot of the steps, guards stationed in silent formation.
Kael followed a step behind, his presence as quiet as ever.
"Find out why the Archduke is here," Theron said, not breaking stride.
Kael didn’t question it. He only inclined his head slightly.
"Yes, Sire."
And then... Kael was gone.
Not a sound. Not a trace. One mont beside him, the next swallowed whole by the stretching shadows along the estate walls.
Theron paused just before stepping into the carriage.
Lucian Caelvaris.
A man who had abandoned politics for obsession... returning now, unannounced, on the very day chaos struck his family... and the sa day Aveline had entered the Arcanum.
That was no coincidence.
Theron’s eyes darkened slightly. Sothing was moving beneath the surface.
And he intended to drag it into the light.
-----
"Was that... truly our granddaughter?" Lucian asked, still staring at the door long after Rosalyn had disappeared.
Leone rose slowly, smoothing the front of her gown more out of habit than need. A quiet sigh escaped her.
"Why are you here?" she asked, her voice returning to its usual composure.
It had been five years since he had last stepped into this house, not as a fleeting presence, not as a distracted shadow passing through, but truly here.
For a mont, an absurd thought crossed her mind.
He didn’t... think it was still...
Heat crept unexpectedly to her cheeks.
Leone stiffened, almost offended by herself.
Ridiculous.
She had long passed the age for such thoughts. That Chapter of her life had closed decades ago... sealed, buried, and forgotten.
And yet...
Her gaze flickered back to him—just for a mont longer than it should have.
Lucian watched her in silence, his eyes tracing her with a focus that felt almost unfamiliar on him. When he finally spoke, his voice carried a quiet, almost absent-minded disbelief—like a man brushing against sothing he did not quite know how to na.
"You do not look a day older than you did on our wedding day," he said.
His gaze lingered on her gown, recognition dawning slowly.
"And unless ti has begun to play tricks on ..." he added, "...that is the very dress you wore when you married ."
A faint curve touched the corner of his mouth—subtle, but unmistakable.
"Explain to , then," he went on, tilting his head slightly, "how we have lived long enough to have grandchildren."
Leone’s face flushed instantly.
This man...
All those years—of silence, of humiliation, of carrying a na that should have been his burden—of loneliness that had hardened into habit—
And he walked in, as though none of it mattered, and spoke like this?
She should have lashed out. She should have torn him apart for it.
But her heart betrayed her, pounding hard enough to drown out the anger she tried to summon.
"You—" she began, but the words faltered, caught between fury and sothing far more dangerous.
Behind the curtain, Kael stood utterly still, breath held as though even the slightest movent might drag him into this mont.
This... was not what he had signed up for.
Not politics. Not strategy.
This was... He resisted the urge to physically recoil.
They are... flirting.
A man and woman who had likely seen more winters than he cared to count... standing here like this...
His skin crawled.
And yet, he didn’t move.
Because his liege had asked him to observe. Because information mattered. Because leaving now might sohow be worse.
I am never reporting this part, he decided silently.
Leone’s words were still hanging in the air when she turned to leave, dignity wrapped tight around her like armor.
"Get cleaned up. Your ancestors would seethe if they saw you like this."
Lucien’s fingers closed around her wrist before she could take another step.
"Where are you going?" he asked, as if the answer were obvious. "I like it when you cut my hair."
She stilled.
For a mont, she considered pulling away—considered reminding him of every year he had not been there, every burden she had carried alone. But his grip, firm yet unguarded, said sothing else entirely. Sothing careless. Sothing trusting.
And when he asked... she answered. Just as she always had.
Silently, she led him to a chair.
The scissors moved with practiced ease. Snip by snip, the wild ss began to fall away. Beneath the neglect, the man he once was slowly resurfaced—sharp jawline, steady mouth, those sa amber eyes that had never dulled, not even with ti.
Lucien, anwhile, muttered under his breath, lost in thoughts only he could follow—fragnts of theories, half-ford equations, whispers of a mind that had never once truly left the Arcanum.
When she brought the blade to his beard, he didn’t so much as flinch.
Steel rested against his throat.
And he trusted her.
That, more than anything, made Leone pause.
Kael, hidden behind the curtain, watched with mild disbelief. This was not the cold, fractured marriage the rumors painted. Whatever this was... it was sothing stranger. Sothing quieter. Sothing that had survived neglect without quite dying.
And then—
Lucien moved.
The blade nicked his skin. A thin line of red welled up and slid down his cheek.
Leone inhaled sharply. "Stay still—"
But Lucien wasn’t listening.
His fingers ca up, catching the blood. He stared at it like a man who had just been handed the final piece of a puzzle. Then, without hesitation, he sared it across the sleeve of his robe, writing symbols in hurried strokes, his lips moving faster now.
"No... no, that’s not it... unless the resonance shifted—"
"Lucien," Leone warned, but he was already standing.
The chair scraped harshly against the floor.
"I figured it out," he said, grabbing her shoulders, eyes blazing—not with anger, but revelation. "Leone... sothing has changed."
Her breath caught.
"In the Arcanum," he continued, voice low, urgent. "The aetherstones... they’re behaving differently. The flow isn’t stable anymore. It’s reacting to sothing—soone."
His grip tightened, just for a second.
"And now I have to go."
Before she could respond, before she could stop him, or ask him to stay, he leaned in and pressed a brief, startling kiss to her lips.
Then he was gone.
Just like that.
The door slamd in his wake, leaving behind silence... and the faint scent of shaving cream.
Leone stood there, unmoving.
One hand slowly rose to her lips.
Behind the curtain, Kael blinked.
"...I was not prepared for that," he muttered under his breath, already stepping back into the shadows.
Monts later, he reappeared beside Theron.
"Sire," he said, his tone sharpened now, all traces of earlier distraction gone. "The Archduke has sensed it. The shift in the Arcanum... he’s already investigating."
A pause.
"It won’t take him long to trace it back."
Theron’s gaze darkened, sothing decisive settling behind his eyes.
Aveline.
Ti had just run out.
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