The dawn broke with a pale hue over House Vahn, and light spilled into the wide courtyards like a whisper. The garden was veiled in morning dew, silver droplets clinging to soft petals, and the scent of wildflowers mingled with the distant scent of ash and stone. Pale-blue butterflies fluttered above the lavender bushes, their wings catching the sun. Birds chirped somewhere atop the willows and elderwood trees, but their songs failed to reach the ears of the boy who walked barefoot upon the cobbled path.
Kael Vahn moved slowly through the garden. His robe was crumpled. His steps uneven. Bruises peeked through the folds of cloth at his wrists. His eyes were hollow. He once adored these gardens. It had been the only place in House Vahn that felt untouched by pride, tradition, and cruelty.
But today, even the butterflies scattered from him.
He reached the old fountain, cracked slightly at the base. Water gurgled softly. He sat on its edge and closed his eyes.
"Did the stray dog ,lost it's path?"
Kael didn't even look. He knew that nasal tone all too well.
Who can it be if not Tristan.
Damon Vahn appeared beside him, taller, his arms folded, eyes calm and cold like lake ice. "Still haunting the place like a ghost. One might think you enjoy embarrassing yourself."
Kael opened his eyes and stood. "Leave me."
Tristan grinned. "Or what? You'll cry again?"
Kael's hand clenched. Damon stepped closer. "You think you still belong here?"
Kael's voice was low. "I don't know what I am anymore. But I am still a Vahn."
"Are you?" Damon's eyes narrowed. "You're not even a full-blood."
Tristan waved his hand mockingly. "Oh, please. Let's not pretend this dog has pride left. Maybe we should beat it out of him. Might make things simpler."
Kael tried to walk away.
A flicker of heat passed near his cheek.
A fireball.
It burst just inches from his face, scattering embers that stung his skin. Kael stumbled, heart racing.
Tristan laughed. "Oh no, the genius can't even dodge!"
Kael turned sharply. "What do you want?"
"To clean the stain," Damon said, raising his hand. Lightning crackled from his fingers, dancing through the air like snapping whips.
Kael backed up. "Enough. You've had your laugh."
Damon spoke slowly. "You still think Father gives a damn, don't you?"
Kael froze.
Damon smiled. "You were hoping last night's silence was hesitation. That perhaps… just maybe… he'd call for you in private, offer comfort, offer answers. But you saw it too, didn't you? That empty gaze. It's over. You're not his son. You're just a failed experiment."
Tristan flung another fireball, this one aimed lower, hitting Kael's leg. He cried out and fell to one knee.
Damon raised his voice. "Captain Renard!"
From the far end of the garden, armored figures marched in. Five knights. All clad in blackened steel adorned with the crimson dragon of House Vahn. They once hailed Kael, followed him in training, honored his talent.
At their front walked a tall man with red hair tied back, a diagonal scar over his left eye.
"Captain Renard," Kael said in disbelief. "You…?"
Kael cannot believe what he was seeing the knights once who followed him to curry his favor, as the next potential lord of house Vahn. Captain Renard who once said-" Yow will make a fine lord. With your intellect and strength you will lead House vahn to new heights."
Captain Renard smiled, cruelly. "I follow strength, boy. And you reek of failure."
"Restrain him," Damon ordered.
Kael screamed as steel gauntlets seized his arms. He struggled, but he was only a shadow of the genius he once was. His Crest was broken.
A punch to the gut stole his breath.
Another to his face. His vision spun.
Tristan barked, "Let me have a go!" He kicked Kael in the ribs. Another knight drove his elbow down on Kael's shoulder.
They beat him methodically — not to kill, but to humiliate. To crush.
Kael's tears mixed with blood and dirt as he collapsed fully into the soil.
He remembered running through these gardens once, training with Renard. Laughing. Believing he had a future. Believing his name meant something.
The last punch was to his temple. The world dimmed. The knights withdrew.
As they left, Damon crouched beside Kael, grabbing his hair and whispering, "It's better this way. Now you know what you are."
They walked away, laughing. Their footsteps faded.
Kael lay there, limbs trembling. Blood seeped from his lip. His thoughts were jumbled, half-delirious. His heart, however, felt frighteningly clear.
"I will kill them. Damon. Tristan. Every single one. I'll burn House Vahn to ash if I must."
And then came the sound.
He turned his head slowly.
A soft clicking of heels.
Selene Vahn.
Regal. Cold. Beautiful in the way venom is beautiful.
She stood at the edge of the garden path, staring down at him.
"Look at you," she said, voice like honey stirred in glass. "My poor, foolish brother. The prodigy, reduced to mulch. You should've died that day."
Kael's voice was a whisper. "Why…?"
She stepped closer.
"Did you really believe she died of illness?" Her voice dropped. "Your mother?"
Kael blinked. "What…?"
Selene crouched beside him, tilting his chin up.
"She was poisoned, Kael. By Father."
The world tilted.
"You… lie."
"I lie?" she chuckled. "You really are simple. Her presence was an insult. A filthy commoner's blood in a noble house. Father only tolerated her because he thought — perhaps — pain and fear might awaken something rare in you. That's how true Crests are born, Kael. Not through love. Through suffering. Through trauma."
Kael's breathing faltered.
"You were the experiment," she continued. "The test to see if hybrid blood, exposed to enough agony, could bloom into something greater. And for a while, it looked promising."
"When the bearer of blood crest i.e is any noble is subjected to some extreme emotions at young age, might further increase the talent of his crest, that is how you awakened the crest at young age , with increased talent."
"Some nobody thought he was a genius. Ha Ha."
Kael's mind reeled.
"But now?" she said, voice now dripping disdain. "You're a broken tool. A mistake. No pure noble blood. No Crest. Just shame. The only reason you're still breathing is because Father wants you to rot slowly."
She stood. Her expression softened — almost a mockery of pity.
"Still, there's beauty in this, don't you think? You thought you were loved. But it was all conditional. Just a trick. Like a bird in a gilded cage."
She raised her boot.
"You were born to crawl."
And she stomped him into the mud.
Pain flared through his ribs. His face pressed into wet soil. The flowers beside him quivered.
"Goodbye, dear brother."
She walked away, her shadow long and elegant beneath the rising sun.
Kael didn't move. His body was wrecked.
But inside?
Something stirred.
A scream. Not one of fear. Not one of pain. A scream buried so deep it cracked the chains around his heart.
Kael stared up at the sky, lips bloodied.
"If I am to live… then I'll live for vengeance."
And far beneath his skin — so faint he didn't notice — a mark pulsed on the shattered remains of his Crest. Not the fire sigil of House Vahn that is blood red in color due to blood crest. Nor the lightning glyph he once mastered.
Something darker.
Something older.
Something born not of legacy, but of wrath. He thoughts of living in country-side are all but gone. He cannot sleep peacefully until the day he destroys house Vahn. Once his home, now the target of vengeance.
The blood red eyes that were filled with tears of blood closed slowly due to exhaustion.