The council chamber emptied slowly, but its air remained heavy with tension. Even as the old nobles shuffled out, their silence spoke louder than any protest. Kael stood unmoving by the obsidian window, hands clasped behind his back, his gaze not on the horizon but fixed inward—calculating.
Lyra and Rin waited by the doorway. Lyra's posture was straight, composed—but her eyes flicked between Kael and the receding elders with wariness. Rin, however, had her arms folded and lips pursed in amusement.
"They didn't say anything after Lady Serentha left," Rin finally whispered. "Not even Albrecht. That woman spooked them."
Kael didn't respond right away. Only after the doors groaned shut behind the last elder did he turn. His voice was quiet but deliberate.
"Send word to Ives," he said. "The Lion's Teeth are to begin recruitment at once. No one over the age of twenty-five. Combat-ready. Loyal. I want three training captains by the end of the week."
Lyra nodded. "I'll deliver the message myself."
"And I want Lady Serentha observed," Kael continued. "From a distance. No contact. No magic probes—her guard noticed my scan."
"She noticed you too," Rin added slyly. "You're the first person she looked at when she entered. Like she knew you."
"She knows something." Kael's eyes narrowed. "And she's testing whether I know it too."
---
Later That Night, in the Western Wing of the Manor
Kael sat alone in his study, surrounded by shelves of ancient texts bound in cracked black leather and lined with House Vaelthorn's sigil—the silver thorned wing. He flipped open a ledger of ancestral records and found what he was looking for: a name, barely legible, buried three centuries deep.
"Velcras Circle – Debt acknowledged by High Lord Caine Vaelthorn, Third of Name."
There was no detail. No payment. No recorded event.
Only a black mark in the margin.
Kael leaned back, frowning. "So this is about blood," he muttered. "Not coin."
A soft knock interrupted his thoughts.
"Come in."
Lyra stepped inside, holding two cups of steaming midnight tea. "You haven't slept since the council," she said, setting one cup beside him. "I figured if I wait for you to ask, it'll be sunrise before you even blink."
Kael offered a tired smile. "You know me well."
"I try." Her gaze softened. "You're carrying a lot, Kael. More than even the estate's stone walls can bear."
"I have to. The moment I show weakness, they'll strike. Albrecht, Cirelle, Serentha—everyone with a hidden knife."
Lyra sat down beside him. "Then you don't have to stand alone. You said it before—'Lions don't roar in silence.'"
He looked at her. "You remember that?"
"I remember everything," she said, with a small smile. "Especially when you pretend to act like a villain to avoid being vulnerable."
Kael looked away, lips twitching. "So now I'm being psychoanalyzed."
"No," she said. "I'm just reminding you that you're not alone."
---
Meanwhile, in the Forests Beyond the Estate
Beneath the moonlit canopy, the spy who had escaped the estate knelt before a crimson-robed figure. The air was thick with the scent of iron and burning sage. Trees twisted unnaturally around the small glade, their bark bleeding shadow.
"My lord," the spy whispered. "It is confirmed. He lives. And the seal is unraveling."
The robed figure remained silent. Then, in a voice that rumbled like distant thunder, he said:
"So the Child of Vaelthorn awakens. Our slumber ends with him."
A rustle of robes. Another figure emerged from the shadows—shorter, but cloaked in cold.
"Do we act now?" she asked.
"Not yet. Let him taste victory," the first figure said. "Let him forge his little squad. When his heart is full and his trust deepest—then we cut."
---
Back in the Estate: Training Grounds, Two Days Later
The estate's western courtyard had not seen military use in decades. It was half-overrun with moss and wildflowers. But under Kael's order, it had been cleared overnight. Now, dozens of candidates stood in neat rows—some young noble bastards, others the sons of knights, even a few orphans raised by House Vaelthorn's retainers.
Kael stood before them in a tailored black coat, his insignia of rank newly embroidered: a lion with seven fangs.
"I am not here to make you loyal," Kael said, his voice cutting across the field like a blade. "I am here to make you worthy. The Lion's Teeth are not bodyguards. You are not banners to wave in parades. You will be my will. My shield. My vengeance. My judgment."
No one moved. No one dared speak.
Behind him, three figures stepped forward—his chosen captains.
Ives Dravon: A veteran with one eye and a scar across his jaw. Formerly of the King's Vanguard, now loyal only to Kael.
Thessa Renwyn: A woman with short silver hair and a piercing gaze. Fastest sword in the southern territories.
Neron Vale: A silent man who never removed his gloves. Magic-user. Rank unknown.
"These three will break you down and rebuild you," Kael continued. "Those who survive training will earn your first fang. Seven fangs, and you bear my personal sigil."
"And if we fail?" one young man asked, trembling.
Kael's eyes turned cold. "Then you die in the mud, forgotten."
---
That Evening, in a Hidden Chamber Beneath the Manor
A corridor sealed by runes opened under Kael's handprint. Only direct descendants of House Vaelthorn could access this chamber—buried beneath ten generations of silence.
Within it: seven stone pedestals. One glowed faintly. The others slumbered.
Kael approached it. The glowing pedestal bore the name "Caine Vaelthorn"—the same ancestor who once owed the Velcras Circle.
As Kael stepped forward, the glyph pulsed once.
Then a whisper filled the chamber, ancient and dry:
"You cannot run from the pact, child of my blood. The Circle watches. The Thorn bleeds. Choose your path… or one shall be chosen for you."
Kael stood there in silence.
Then, without a word, he turned and walked away.
---
End of Chapter 54