The air in the Verelion Estate had grown heavy, as if it too sensed the shift in the family's fate. The once vibrant gardens, now overrun by creeping ivy, stood as a metaphor for the rot that had seeped into the heart of the family. Lucien couldn't escape the feeling that the estate was watching him, its ancient stones holding secrets it wasn't yet ready to reveal. The weight of his family's legacy, combined with the looming threat of the creature tied to his bloodline, pressed down on him like a thousand invisible chains.
But he couldn't afford to succumb to the pressure. Not now. Not when there was so much at stake.
Ravian had left to gather what resources he could, speaking with a few trusted allies, while Lucien had taken to studying the fragment of the Chronicles of Ascension he had. Every night, by candlelight, he poured over the cryptic text, hoping to find the missing piece of the puzzle. But the more he read, the more it became clear: this was no ordinary artifact. The Chronicles weren't just a historical record—they were a map, a key to understanding the ancient creature and how it could be defeated. But the more Lucien uncovered, the more questions arose. What had been left out? What secrets had been intentionally hidden?
It was during one of these late-night sessions that Lucien heard a quiet knock on his door. He stood quickly, casting a glance toward the fragment laid open before him. He'd had no visitors lately, save for Ravian. Whoever was at his door now was unexpected.
"Come in," Lucien called, his voice hoarse from hours of study.
The door creaked open, and Lucien's gaze lifted to find Elira standing in the threshold. Her eyes were shadowed, her usual composure replaced with a rare vulnerability. She held herself with an air of quiet determination, but Lucien could sense something had shifted. The weight of her own burdens was plainly visible now, as if she too were grappling with the weight of the world.
"I didn't mean to disturb you," Elira began, her voice barely above a whisper. "But we need to talk."
Lucien stepped aside, motioning for her to enter. "Of course. What is it?"
She closed the door behind her, the sound of it clicking shut filling the room with a sense of finality. Elira's gaze wandered briefly to the fragment of the Chronicles, but she didn't comment on it. Instead, she focused on Lucien.
"I've been speaking with others," she said, her tone low, as though she were afraid of being overheard. "There are rumors—whispers of movements happening in the shadows, of people who know things they shouldn't. Things about the past. The prophecy. The creature."
Lucien's pulse quickened. "What do you mean? Who have you spoken to?"
Elira hesitated, her eyes darkening with concern. "The Mystics."
Lucien's heart skipped a beat. "The Mystics?"
She nodded. "There are factions within the Mystics who have been gathering, keeping a close eye on the family and its movements. They've sensed the stirrings of the creature, the old power that sleeps. And some of them—some of them believe you. They believe the truth is hidden in plain sight, but they won't make a move unless they know for sure that we're ready."
Lucien felt his mind racing. The Mystics—an enigmatic and secretive order that had long stood apart from the politics of Aranthia. To think that they were aware of the ancient threat, that they had knowledge of the creature and the prophecy, was both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, their help could be invaluable. On the other, trusting them could bring untold dangers.
"But why now?" Lucien asked, his voice thick with suspicion. "Why are they reaching out to us now, when they've kept their distance for so long?"
Elira's gaze softened, but there was an edge to her words. "Because the creature is waking. They've felt its stirrings. They know what's coming."
Lucien clenched his fists at his sides, the tension in the room growing palpable. "We don't have time to wait for Aurelian to come around. We need to act—now."
Elira's eyes flashed with a spark of defiance. "I agree. But we can't act recklessly, Lucien. The Mystics are powerful, yes, but they are also dangerous. They operate with their own rules, their own agendas. If we make the wrong move, it could cost us everything."
Lucien's mind raced. The Mystics could be the key to unlocking the knowledge they needed to stop the creature, but approaching them could also unravel everything. Their involvement in the coming storm was not something Lucien could ignore, but neither could he afford to make any missteps.
"What do we do?" Lucien asked, his voice steady despite the uncertainty swirling in his chest.
Elira's gaze met his, and for the first time in weeks, Lucien saw the familiar glint of resolve in her eyes. "We take the risk," she said softly. "But we do it on our terms."
Lucien nodded. The decision was made.
---
Later that night, Lucien stood before the ancient doors of the Verelion Estate's library, the air thick with the scent of aged parchment and ink. The only light came from the flickering torches along the stone walls, casting long, dancing shadows across the room. This was where the true history of the Verelion family was kept—the family's private records, hidden away from prying eyes for centuries.
He had spent the past few hours combing through the estate's private archives, pulling every text he could find that might contain information about the Mystics, the Chronicles of Ascension, and the creature that threatened them. There had to be something here, something to guide their next steps.
Elira stood beside him, scanning through the scrolls and tomes with a quiet urgency. Ravian had not yet returned, but Lucien knew he wouldn't be far behind. His older brother had always been swift in his dealings, and Lucien trusted that he would find the right allies when the time came.
Lucien's fingers brushed over an old leather-bound tome, its pages brittle and worn with age. As he flipped it open, a single sheet of parchment fell from between the pages—a letter, sealed with a wax crest that Lucien did not recognize.
He picked it up carefully, breaking the seal with a practiced hand. The letter inside was written in a flowing, elegant script, the ink faint but legible. As he read the words, his heart sank.
To the Verelion Family,
The time has come. The creature stirs, and the bloodline will soon face its reckoning. There is only one way to stop it, but it is a path fraught with peril. The Chronicles speak of an ancient alliance, one long forgotten. If you wish to survive, seek the Silver Coast. The Mystics will not aid you without proof of your resolve.
- A Friend
Lucien's breath caught in his throat. The letter was a warning, a sign that they were on the right path. But it also confirmed his worst fear: they were not alone in this fight. And the creature, the ancient threat, was closer than they had ever imagined.