Lucien stood frozen for a moment, the letter crumpled slightly in his hand as the words on the parchment echoed in his mind. A friend. The creature stirs. The Silver Coast.
His heart raced, the implications of the letter slowly sinking in. He turned to Elira, her eyes searching his face for any sign of understanding. The urgency in her gaze mirrored his own.
"Do you know of the Silver Coast?" Lucien asked, his voice thick with the weight of the unknown.
Elira hesitated for a moment, her brow furrowed in thought. "The Silver Coast is distant... to the southeast. It's a land of mystics and scholars, a place where ancient magic and forbidden knowledge are said to have been preserved. The Mystics of the Silver Coast have always operated in the shadows, rarely involving themselves in the politics of the mainland." She paused, her voice lowering. "But their influence is vast, and their knowledge is said to rival the oldest families in Aranthia. If they are involved in this... the stakes are higher than we thought."
Lucien absorbed her words, feeling a weight settle in his chest. The Silver Coast—a place of secrets, distant and dangerous. If the Mystics there were the key to stopping the creature, it would mean risking everything. Yet, standing still and waiting for the Mystics of Aranthia to move on their own terms would be just as perilous.
Elira's hand rested lightly on his shoulder, bringing him back from the whirl of thoughts. "Lucien, we need to be prepared. If we're going to venture into the Silver Coast, we must have more than just the letter. We need allies, and we need information. This is no longer just about you or your family—this is about the fate of all of Aranthia."
Lucien nodded. "I know. We can't afford to be careless."
They stood together in the dim library, the weight of their decisions hanging in the air. Lucien could feel the walls of the Verelion Estate closing in on him—its secrets, its history, its decaying glory. But it was no longer a place of refuge. It was a cage.
"There's one other thing," Lucien said, pulling himself away from the weight of the moment. He moved to the desk, scanning the letters and scrolls scattered across its surface. "I need to find more information on this alliance mentioned in the letter. If there's a way to stop the creature, we need to know everything."
Elira's eyes softened, a spark of pride flickering in them. "You'll find it, Lucien. You always do."
Just as Lucien was about to dive back into the pile of tomes, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway. Ravian's unmistakable stride grew louder, and Lucien's heart leapt at the thought of his older brother returning.
The door opened, and Ravian stepped inside, his face tense but determined. His gaze immediately fell on the parchment in Lucien's hand.
"Found something?" Ravian's voice was rough, his tone a mixture of curiosity and caution.
Lucien held up the letter, watching as Ravian's eyes scanned the words. "A message from someone calling themselves 'A Friend.' It speaks of an alliance, something long forgotten. If we want to stop the creature, we need to seek the Silver Coast."
Ravian's expression darkened. "The Silver Coast…" he muttered, rubbing his jaw. "It's a dangerous place. The Mystics there are even more elusive than the ones here in Aranthia. They have their own rules, their own agendas. Trusting them is a gamble."
"I know," Lucien said, his tone steady. "But it's our only option."
Ravian gave a sharp nod, his jaw setting with resolve. "Then we prepare. But not just for the journey. We need to make sure the Mystics know we're serious. We need to show them we can handle the consequences of this decision."
Elira stepped forward, her eyes alight with determination. "I agree. We can't just ask for help—we must prove we're worthy of it. And we need to be ready for whatever they throw at us."
Ravian's gaze shifted between Lucien and Elira, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he spoke. "I'll gather what we need—supplies, provisions, and any allies we can count on. There are a few people I trust, but I won't bring anyone else into this unless we're certain."
Lucien nodded. "Be quick. We don't have much time."
As Ravian left the library, Lucien felt the tension building inside him. The decision had been made. They would head for the Silver Coast. But even as they prepared for the journey, Lucien couldn't shake the feeling that they were walking into a trap—a web of intrigue that they were too blind to see. The Mystics were not to be trusted, but they were their only hope. And so, with his heart heavy, Lucien began to prepare for the journey ahead.
---
Later that evening...
The estate was eerily quiet as Lucien stood in the courtyard, the cool night air brushing against his skin. The sound of the wind rustling through the ivy-covered walls seemed almost like whispers, as if the very stones were trying to tell him something.
His thoughts returned to the creature, the ancient entity tied to his bloodline. If the Mystics were to be believed, it was stirring, awakening from its long slumber. And Lucien, whether he wanted to or not, was the one who would have to face it.
Elira joined him in the courtyard, her steps soft against the stone. She said nothing, but the weight of her presence beside him was enough. They shared a moment of quiet understanding before she spoke.
"We'll do this together, Lucien," she said, her voice steady. "Whatever happens, we'll face it."
Lucien turned to her, his silver-gray eyes reflecting the dim light of the stars above. For a moment, he allowed himself to feel the warmth of her words, the unspoken promise between them.
"We will," he agreed, the weight of the world pressing on his shoulders, but for the first time in a long while, there was a flicker of hope in his chest.
And with that, the first steps toward the Silver Coast began.