Part I: "The Crestbearer's Game"
The Invitation Arrived With No Name
It was wrapped in pale vellum, sealed with a wax insignia Kael had never seen before — a half-bloomed thorn encircling a fading star.
Lyra poked it with a fork.
"I give it a 70% chance of being a trap. 30% dinner invite."
Seris took the scroll, eyes narrowing.
"This isn't local nobility."
"Out-of-town nobles?" Kael asked.
"Worse," Zevran muttered from the doorway. "Old ones. The kind that don't send letters unless they already know your secrets."
Kael set his spoon down.
"So what do we do?"
Zevran gave a thin smile.
"We dress nice."
Later That Evening — Outside the Manor
The "banquet" was held at a rented estate on the southern edge of Deyrun, surrounded by runes that shimmered softly in the grass. Two guards in silver cloaks stood outside — unmoving, almost statuesque.
Ashen stayed hidden in the treeline, watching.
Kael stepped forward, his black tunic simple, unadorned — just enough to look respectable, not flashy.
And still, one of the nobles squinted at him and said:
"Twelve?" he whispered. "He's only twelve?"
Another man, older, chuckled.
"Twelve and already outpacing half our House squires. Either he's blessed or bred."
Inside the Hall
Kael walked past polished tables, silver cutlery, and nobles with shark-like smiles. The air smelled like exotic spices and something colder — politics.
He didn't eat.
He observed.
Zevran stood near him, silent but heavy in presence. His expression calm, but his fingers occasionally twitched near his hip — where his blade would've been, if allowed.
A man stepped forward, dressed in twilight-colored robes.
"Kael Ardyn. I am Lord Velmorn of the Veiled Thorn."
"I didn't ask."
A few nobles choked on their wine.
Velmorn smiled wider.
"Direct. I like that."
"Fake warmth makes me itch."
"And true power?" Velmorn asked, stepping closer.
Kael didn't blink.
"I haven't found anyone holding it yet."
Meanwhile… Lyra Was "Negotiating"
Back at the festival stalls, Lyra had set up shop — selling "Limited Edition" Kael-themed talismans.
"One per noble house! Blessings of the Emberfang not included!"
A woman in elegant robes paused, glancing at the wooden trinket.
"Your brother is quite the spectacle. Twelve, is he?"
"Twelve and unlicensed," Lyra replied proudly. "He's like a sword-shaped secret. Gets sharper every time you look away."
Back in the Hall — The Test
Lord Velmorn clapped, and the room parted.
A challenger stepped forward — a "gifted swordsman" from his House.
"A friendly spar," Velmorn said, eyes glittering. "Just for sport."
Zevran stepped forward.
"He's not prepared—"
"I'll do it," Kael interrupted.
Zevran frowned. Kael looked up at him, just for a second.
"Let them see what they want to see."
Duel in the Velvet Chamber
Kael stood barefoot on polished stone.
His opponent was older — fifteen maybe — armed with a real blade, lined with mana.
Kael bowed politely.
"Try not to miss."
The noble boy sneered.
Then lunged.
Kael didn't dodge.
He slid.
Every movement — rehearsed under strain, softened under limiters, guided by Ashen's reflexes — flowed like water beneath fire.
He blocked with an open palm. Redirected momentum. Let the other boy waste energy.
And then…
Kael struck once.
A flat-handed tap to the sternum.
His opponent flew back five feet and gasped for air.
Silence fell.
Kael adjusted his sleeve.
"Thanks for the warm-up."
That Night — Forest Edge
Ashen emerged from the shadows and sat beside Kael.
"They won't stop coming," Kael said.
Ashen tilted his head.
"I'm not afraid of the nobles."
Pause.
"I'm afraid I'll stop hiding too well."
Still no reply.
But Kael turned anyway, voice low.
"Ashen… when the dragon comes…"
The wolf's eyes narrowed slightly — old knowledge flashing behind amber flame.
"Will you still stand beside me?"
Ashen exhaled softly.
"Always."
Kael smiled.
"You spoke again."
Ashen growled.
"Don't get used to it."
Part II: "Crestbearer's Game"
Later That Night — The Invitation Behind the Invitation
The banquet was winding down.
But Velmorn wasn't finished.
He led Kael — and Zevran — into a separate chamber. Small. Private. Runes lined the ceiling. No echoes.
"Let's speak without ears," he said.
Zevran's fingers twitched again.
Kael didn't sit. He leaned against the wall, arms folded.
"You didn't bring me here for a duel," he said flatly.
Velmorn smiled. "No. I brought you here for this."
He slid a scroll across the table.
Kael glanced at it. The crest on the seal was ancient — a variant of the royal mark, wrapped in silver flame.
"This isn't your family's emblem."
"No," Velmorn replied. "But it will be… if you accept."
The Offer
"We want to adopt you," Velmorn said casually.
Kael blinked.
"Excuse me?"
"You have potential. Talent beyond reason. We would take you into the house. Change your name. Educate you. Train you in places the public never sees."
Zevran stepped forward, jaw clenched.
"He already has a family."
Velmorn raised a hand. "I'm not insulting you, Ardyn. I'm offering him something more."
"I don't need more," Kael said, voice quiet but edged with steel. "I'm not for sale."
Velmorn leaned back, disappointed — but not surprised.
"Then at least consider our offer of patronage. Allies can do more from the shadows than enemies ever will."
Kael looked him in the eye.
"You're not the shadow I'll walk with."
Outside the Manor — As They Leave
Seris waited near the carriage, arms folded. Lyra sat up top, holding a glowing scroll.
"Did you sell another prophecy?"
"Kinda," Lyra grinned. "I may have convinced a minor noble that Kael is the second starborn child mentioned in some ancient beast scripture."
"There's no such scripture."
"There is now. I wrote it."
Kael climbed into the carriage beside them.
"You caused more chaos than I did."
"That's what sisters are for."
That Night — Deep Forest, Riverbank
Kael wandered alone.
Ashen followed.
He stopped beside the old river tree where he used to throw stones.
Then he felt it.
Like a whisper… far off.
A low hum. Deep. Reverberating beneath his chest.
"You feel that too?" he whispered.
Ashen said nothing.
But he stood straighter.
The second bond — still distant, still dormant — had stirred.
Something ancient was awakening.
Not near. Not yet.
But aware.
Elsewhere — A Message Delivered
A noble courier reached a fortress built into a mountain cliff.
He bowed before a silver-haired figure seated on an obsidian throne.
"The boy refuses the crest."
The figure didn't move.
"But he has bonded. The wolf responds. And the dragon…"
Silence.
Then — a whisper like molten steel:
"He hears it?"
"He does."
The silver-haired figure stood, cloak unfurling like wings.
"Then the world will burn sooner than expected."
Final Scene — Kael's Room
He sat beside the window, scribbling thoughts into a blank journal.
One sentence at the top:
"Twelve years old. One bond. One lie. A thousand steps ahead."
He smiled faintly.
Then closed the book.
"Let them think they know me."
"They don't even know I've just begun."
Ashen stirred beside him, letting out a low growl of amusement.