The tension in the air was almost palpable as Celestia, always impeccable in her posture, looked at the two children before her. Her expression was serene, but her eyes carried a curiosity difficult to ignore.
"Are you nervous about meeting your father?" she asked, her voice low and controlled, as though testing the waters of a dangerous river.
Nayara was the first to respond, raising her chin in a defiant manner. Her blue eyes, always so crystalline and intense, glimmered with a hint of irritation.
"No." The reply was dry, almost cutting.
Celestia arched an eyebrow, but before she could retort, Nayara continued,
"And you? Aren't you?"
The tone was direct, perhaps even provocative, but the most powerful woman on the continent remained unfazed. Instead, she merely gave a slight smile, as if Nayara were a child trying to challenge an adult's authority.
Nael, who had remained silent until then, observed the interaction with his hypnotizing eyes—a swirl of colors and emotions that contrasted with the calculated coldness on his face. He maintained an upright posture, every movement controlled, as if always ready to act, to attack, or defend.
"Follow me this way," interrupted the man guiding them, his harsh voice echoing through the luxurious corridor ahead.
The setting was grandiose, a blend of opulence and decay. The walls were covered with dark wood panels, illuminated by crystal chandeliers that cast golden reflections on the pristine marble floor. Shadows danced in the corners of the corridor, creating an atmosphere that oscillated between refinement and threat.
"There's no need to worry so much," said Celestia, finally breaking the silence as she walked beside Nayara. Her voice sounded softer, almost comforting—something rare coming from her. "Things will be fine. I promise."
Nayara turned her face toward her mother, her expression hardening. It was rare for Celestia to show any form of emotional comfort, and it unsettled her more than she cared to admit. Instead of replying, she pressed her lips together and averted her gaze, her thoughts spinning like poorly-oiled gears.
Nael, walking a few steps ahead, caught the discomfort in his sister's silence. He didn't need to look to know that something in the dynamic between the two had shifted at that moment. But, as always, he remained distant, aloof to human emotions that he often considered an unnecessary burden.
His hands were relaxed at his sides, but there was latent tension in his posture. He knew this night would be different. Facing the man who was his father—even if he didn't want to admit it—would not be a trivial event. But unlike Nayara, Nael showed no nervousness. His coldness was nearly impenetrable—a shield he had perfected since childhood.
Nayara, however, couldn't ignore the mounting weight of the night. Her mother's words echoed in her mind. She knew Celestia rarely made promises without total control of the situation. Yet the assurance that everything would be fine felt... false.
As they walked, Nayara lightly clenched her fists, her long fingers encased in black leather gloves. The familiar texture brought her a small comfort. She was a weapon, shaped by the Queen. Nothing about this encounter should disturb that.
"Don't trust promises so much, Mother," she said, her voice cutting through the silence, surprising even herself with the bitterness it carried.
Celestia cast a quick glance her way but didn't respond. She knew that in moments like these, words were useless. Ahead, Nael let out a low, almost inaudible chuckle, enough to make Nayara grit her teeth.
The man guiding them suddenly stopped before a large double door, decorated with intricate carvings of battle scenes. He turned to the three of them, his expression as serious as stone.
"Are you ready?"
Nael stepped forward, his aura almost oppressive. He didn't respond, only gazed at the man with his aurora borealis eyes—a look that carried more meaning than a thousand words.
Nayara hesitated for a moment but lifted her chin and adjusted her dress as though preparing for battle.
Celestia, for her part, remained firm, her gaze as inscrutable as ever.
The man opened the doors, and the three were swallowed by the glow of the room beyond.
---
The three finally arrived at the main hall of the White Mansion. The space was imposing, with walls adorned by ancestral tapestries and crystal chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling. The air carried a mix of sophistication and oppression, as though the weight of the family's generations still lingered within the space.
Looking ahead, Celestia, Nael, and Nayara saw a group of five people. It was impossible not to notice their similarities—the strength in their features, the determined gazes, and the rigid postures. Four of them were men, and one woman stood out among the group. She appeared to be the same apparent age as Celestia, perhaps a little younger, but her imposing demeanor was equivalent to the Black matriarch's.
The men, seated together on the main sofa, seemed to be in their 40s or older. Each carried a distinct aura. The one in the center, clearly the eldest, exuded authority. He had a stern and cold expression, and his piercing gaze seemed to judge the newcomers with every blink. Tall, over 6'5" (1.95m), his presence was dominant.
On the right side of the room, an older woman, around 50, observed in silence. Despite her age, her mature and refined beauty was undeniable. She kept her back straight, as though gravity would never dare defeat her. Behind her stood a man who appeared to be nearly 60. His graying hair and hardened demeanor indicated he had lived through more battles than he could count.
"Sit," the eldest man in the group said, his tone grave and authoritative, breaking the silence.
The siblings moved to the seats across from the family—a set of dark leather armchairs emanating elegance. Nael, ever attentive to formalities, ceded the middle chair to his mother. He sat to the left, his posture impeccable, his back straight, and his hands resting on his knees, as though constantly on alert. Nayara took the chair to the right, crossing her legs and casting calculated glances at the gathered group.
An uncomfortable silence took over the room. The five minutes that followed felt like an eternity. Neither side knew how to start the conversation, each analyzing the other for clues or weaknesses.
"So... these are my nephews?" asked one of the men beside the eldest. His tone was casual, but there was a hint of nervousness in his voice.
"Yes, they are," Celestia replied with a controlled smile, trying to ease the tense atmosphere.
She knew what this environment meant. These people had grown up in hell, a place where survival was more important than words. But at that moment, she needed to build a bridge between them.
"They're so unique! I bet there are boys falling at her feet, and him... well, I bet he inherited my luck with the ladies!" the man added, letting out a loud laugh, as though trying to break the weight of the gathering.
"Always Ethan, the funny one," commented the woman, rolling her eyes but with a faint smile on her lips.
Then, the older woman sitting beside him finally spoke.
"I've wanted to meet my grandchildren for so long. Look at how they've grown... and they didn't take after their father." Her voice was sweet but carried a strength that only years could provide.
Nael observed her closely. His aurora borealis eyes analyzed every detail—the gestures, the tone of voice, the facial expressions. He was a master at deciphering emotions, and what he saw surprised him. The woman was genuinely happy. There were no signs of falseness or ulterior motives.
"And you are...?" Nayara asked, her tone carrying a cautious curiosity.
"I'm your grandmother, Rose. And the man behind me is your grandfather's brother, John. This one next to me is Amara, your father's younger sister. And that one over there..." She gestured to the serious, imposing man in the center. "Well, try to guess."
"He's our father," Nayara shot back, cutting off any attempt at levity. Her voice was sharp as a blade.
The room plunged into heavy silence.
"No, he is not your father," Rose replied with a playful smile, trying to lighten the tension. "But I can't say the same for someone in particular..." She cast a glance at one of the three other men, clearly unsettling everyone.
"Then... which of the three is my father?" Nayara insisted, her voice now tinged with coldness.
Ethan, the most lighthearted man in the group, let out a nervous laugh, but it was quickly stifled when he felt the icy aura emanating from Nael.
"None of them is your father," Rose answered firmly.
Nael, who had remained silent until then, finally spoke.
"Then where is our father?"
His voice was deep, firm, and cut through the air like a blade. For a moment, no one dared to answer. The tension in the room reached a peak, and the answers to come were a mystery shrouded in layers of secrets and regrets.