In the tranquil expanse of the Ravenstein estate, a hush fell over the burial grounds as Magnus stood in somber contemplation before Ariel's ornate tomb. His gaze was fixed upon the intricate engravings that adorned the monument, lost in a labyrinth of memories and regrets.
A gentle footfall, barely a whisper against the backdrop of his thoughts, pulled his attention away from the memorial. Freya, a woman of strength and grace, approached from behind, her presence a soothing balm against the ache of grief. "Magnus," her voice was a soft caress, carrying a blend of affection and reproach.
Turning with a hint of a smile, Magnus met her gaze. "My lovely wife," he greeted her, his words infused with genuine warmth.
Freya responded with a delicate arch of her eyebrow,
"So now I'm your wife?" Her words held a subtle undercurrent of humor, a playful jab at the complexity of their relationship.
Magnus extended his arms in an unspoken invitation, his expression earnest. "Come on, honey," he entreated, his voice a soothing melody that hung in the air. "You know why I had to do it. We need strength if we want to survive in this world. Avalon isn't prepared to bear the weight of the family just yet."
A sigh escaped Freya, carrying with it a weight of frustration. "You disappeared into seclusion for years," she reproached, her voice laced with a mixture of hurt and exasperation. "Not a single visit. And now, all of a sudden, you decide to play the caring husband?"
Magnus's arms encircled her, a gentle attempt to bridge the emotional chasm that had grown between them. "I did it for us, Freya," he asserted, his voice a steady reassurance. "Every bit of strength counts. Avalon has much to learn before he's ready to carry the mantle."
A spark of frustration ignited within Freya, her voice taking on a sharper edge. "Avalon returned from seeing you, all bloodied," she accused, her gaze a tempest of conflicting emotions. "Did you blame it on him?"
Magnus's demeanor turned serious.
"I had to be firm with him, Freya," he explained, his words measured and resolute. "He must understand the gravity of leading the family. If he can't protect his own flesh and blood, how can we entrust the family to him?"
The anger in Freya's eyes softened, it gave way to a profound sadness. Her voice trembled as she spoke, her words weighed down by the sorrow that clung to her heart. "Ariel was too young," she whispered, "Too young"
Magnus held her tightly, his embrace a silent offering of peace. "I know, Freya," he murmured, his voice gentle. "Whoever is responsible for this... I will make them pay. Tenfold."
A tear slipped down Freya's cheek, and he whispered, his voice echoing in the still.
***
The day after the funeral, the Ravenstein estate buzzed with a palpable sense of anticipation. The Raven hall, now adorned with a blend of elegance and power, was a gathering point for the strongest members of the family.
Over a hundred individuals of at least Master-rank, had assembled. They shared a common feature — a cascade of white hair that marked their lineage.
The Ravenstein genes possessed an incredible amount of strength, a legacy that could not be easily broken. Almost all members of the Ravenstein family had stunning white hair, with about 99% exhibiting this unique characteristic. It seemed as though their ancestry had left an indelible mark on their physical appearance, demonstrating the strength of their lineage. This prevailing trait surpassed generations, overpowering the genetic makeup of individuals who attempted to mingle with the Ravenstein heritage.
The Ravenstein family had strong members in charge of their different aspects of the family. They were so imposing that their power filled the entire hall. Among them were members who held key military positions, temporarily granted leave to honor the memory of Ariel. They shared the common purpose of serving the main family and upholding its ideals.
Their seats were all lined up perfectly, looking at each other like they were having a conversation. It made a clear path from the door to the big thrones at the end of the hall. But even more impressive were those grand thrones, raised up high above the rest. They were like a symbol of power that everyone could feel, passing down through the family lines over time.
As they settled into their seats, arranged meticulously to face each other, they began to converse. "Quite the gathering tonight," remarked one, glancing around the hall.
"Yes, indeed," replied another, nodding in agreement. "It's been too long since we've all been together like this." "Sad that it had to be for a death," a lady said somber.
Their voices echoed through the hall, creating a sense of camaraderie.
In the front row of the assembly, Lyanna, Nathan, and Sirius were seated out.
"I see you haven't lost weight, Nathan," Sirius teased, a sly grin on his face.
Nathan laughed, his eyes crinkling. "Ah, well, Sirius, there are some battles you just decide not to fight," he joked back. "Besides, who needs a slim figure when you can enjoy a good feast?"
"True, true. You've always done things your own way, Nathan. Just don't eat too much; we wouldn't want a Ravenstein to keel over from a heart attack, would we?"
Before Nathan could reply, Lyanna interrupted, sounding amusedly exasperated. "Would you two stop bickering? We've got more important stuff to deal with. They'll be here soon."
Nathan playfully pouted, turning away as if offended, while Sirius chuckled, agreeing with Lyanna. "You're right, Lyanna. We'll save the jokes for later."
As the grand hall buzzed with conversation, the atmosphere shifted when Magnus, Freya, Avalon, and Anastasia entered. Their presence commanded attention, silencing the room.
Magnus and Freya took their seats, with Avalon and Anastasia on smaller thrones nearby, representing the Ravenstein family's strength and unity.
A tense silence filled the room, emphasizing the moment's importance. Then Magnus, with his authoritative voice, broke the silence. "Let the meeting begin."