The wind roared as Solaryth glided above the mist-shrouded peaks of the Elytharan Empire. Below, nestled amidst the highlands, stood the cold and ancient stronghold of House Brackwood—its black spires like fangs piercing the sky.
Myrelion dismounted as Solaryth landed with a reverberating thrum, the courtyard trembling with each of the dragon's breaths. Soldiers looked on in awe and fear, but stepping forward was Bramir Brackwood, draped in black and bronze, and beside him, his graceful wife, Lady Alenya.
"Myrelion," Bramir said, his tone solemn, but his eyes softened. "It's good to see you… finally, as you are."
They embraced briefly—two brothers, one born of truth, the other of silence.
"You've grown into something Father never dared hope," Bramir murmured. "Come. There's much you must hear. The time for half-truths is over."
Inside the ancient halls of Castle Brackwood, behind hidden walls and runed doors, Bramir led Myrelion to the Solar of Secrets, once used by Corwin Brackwood himself for clandestine gatherings.
Bramir sat, poured wine, and placed an old, dusty leather-bound tome on the table.
"What I tell you now may change everything."
He began.
> "You were never Father's bastard. You are not the child of a tavern wench. You are the son of Kevin Brackwood, my uncle… and Princess Virelya Velgaeron, the rightful heir to the Elytharan throne."
Myrelion froze.
Bramir continued, his voice growing colder.
> "Your mother was to be Empress. Her father, Emperor Valdyros, loved her dearly. But her younger brother, your uncle, desired the crown. The Empress, her sister-in-law, seduced him with dreams of power and gathered traitorous nobles to his side.
One night, they assassinated the Emperor. The Empire was seized in blood. Your mother fled with loyalists and your father, Kevin. But cornered and betrayed, they were separated. Your mother gave you to our father—Corwin—with her dying breath.
To protect you from the Empress's assassins, Father branded you a bastard and handed you to the Black Thorn Guild, an assassin's den where no one would suspect a royal heir."
Myrelion's fists trembled as the truth burned through his soul. Years of abandonment, pain, and confusion fell into place. He had not been discarded. He had been hidden… protected.
> "Spies loyal to Corwin watched you from the shadows your whole life. Everything… was done to keep you alive. And before her death, Virelya didn't just weep—she planned.
She forged secret alliances with powerful noble houses and two great kingdoms, promising your hand in marriage to their royal daughters. If you accept the bonds, you will gain two armies and legitimacy to take back the empire."
Myrelion could barely speak. "And my name…?"
Bramir stood, eyes shining.
"Your true name is Saelar Velgaeron—Crown Prince of Elythara. Son of Virelya the Just. Heir to the Dracovita Flame."