The corridor echoed with emptiness as Kael stepped out from his chamber. The cold marble tiles beneath his feet had long lost their luster, yet the silence that hung in the air felt far heavier than any stone. His days had melted into a blur of dusty tomes, tasteless porridge, and hopeless speculation. The books he'd clung to were as mute as the House Vahn banners hanging above him. He had tried everything — rituals, lost incantations, energy circulation diagrams — all to no avail.
The House crest carved into the walls, the dragon devouring the sun, now looked like a beast mocking him.
His thoughts spiraled in that corridor, until he saw him.
His father.
Lord Ardyn Vahn.
Tall, composed, his steps as fluid and sharp as a blade. He walked with his usual grace, hands behind his back, a figure untouched by the shadows clinging to the castle's corners. Kael's chest heaved. Something swelled within him — rage, sorrow, desperation, betrayal.
"FATHER!"
Ardyn stopped. Slowly, he turned, eyebrows rising with casual curiosity as if disturbed by the wind rather than the voice of his son.
Kael marched forward, fists clenched.
"Is it true? What happened to mother?"
Ardyn blinked. "Clarify yourself."
Kael's voice cracked, eyes gleaming with tears, anger, and disbelief. "DID YOU KILL HER?! DID YOU POISON MY MOTHER?!"
Ardyn tilted his head. "You are unwell."
Kael's breathing sharpened. "Don't act indifferent! Just look me in the eye and say it's not true! That you didn't treat me like some experiment—like her death was just a tool for my awakening."
A faint smile, more a twitch of indifference, brushed Ardyn's lips. "You've always been dramatic."
Kael staggered back slightly, as though struck. "So it's true... You knew. You watched her die and said nothing... just to test if her suffering would unlock something in me."
Ardyn exhaled through his nose. "Some things are better left unsaid."
"ANSWER ME!"
"You are shouting in my house."
Kael lunged.
But before his hand could even brush against his father's shoulder—
CRACK!
A blinding explosion of pain. Ardyn's open palm struck Kael's face with such ferocity that time itself seemed to slow. Teeth flew from Kael's mouth. Blood gushed. His body spun, flung like a ragdoll. He slammed against the corridor wall. His head struck stone.
The marble was painted red.
Kael slid to the floor, dazed, broken.
His silver eyes blinked up at the man who had once held him as a child, the father who had praised his incantations, cheered his early crest awakenings.
And now...
Lord Ardyn Vahn looked down, not with remorse, but contempt.
"You filthy dog," he said coldly. "Know your place."
And then he walked away, robes swaying like the passage of a storm.
Kael lay there, bloodied and unmoving, his breath shallow. His father's words echoed louder than the slap itself. For years, he had wondered. Now he knew.
Later That Night - The Study Hall
The large wooden doors of the study creaked open. Lord Ardyn Vahn stood inside, his face cast in firelight and shadow. Behind him stood Selene Vahn and Elias Vahn.
Selene wore a refined gown of violet and black. She smiled politely, a mask stretched too tight over something far darker. Elias, tall and solemn, stood at her side, arms crossed, gaze unreadable.
The study smelled of old books and faint traces of incense. The golden chandeliers flickered.
"You summoned us, Father?" Elias asked.
Ardyn nodded slowly. "Kael confronted me."
Selene's eyes sparkled. "About mother, I suppose?"
"He didn't name anyone," Ardyn said sharply. "But I am no fool. One of you said something."
Selene didn't bother denying. "I did."
Elias turned toward her, his brow furrowing.
Ardyn's eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"Because the truth deserved to be heard," she replied. "He's already fallen, what more damage could it do?"
Ardyn slammed his palm against the desk. "You endangered the house. Do you realize what you've done?"
Selene didn't flinch. "Noble houses do this all the time, Father. They use pain, loss, trauma — to stimulate awakenings. The only mistake is when it gets out."
Ardyn's voice turned cold. "To side branches. To illegitimate children. Not to the main line. Not to a child born under this roof."
"Kael's mother was a concubine," she said with acid. "He's only half-noble."
Ardyn's jaw tightened.
Selene stepped forward. "So what now, Father? You think he'll keep quiet once he's exiled? You think he'll swallow this truth and go meekly into the slums?"
Ardyn said nothing.
"He's a liability," Selene continued. "And liabilities must be erased."
"You're suggesting murder," Elias interjected, his voice low.
"I'm suggesting practicality," she said coldly. "Do you want the other noble families whispering that House Vahn poisons its own? They're all waiting, Father. Waiting to tear us down the moment we slip."
Ardyn paced to the window, eyes scanning the moonlit courtyard.
"The walls have ears," he muttered.
"Which is why you should act now," Selene said.
"No wait, if something happens to him now, people might get suspicious. Let him live in obscurity for six months, maybe a year after leaving the house. Then make it look like an accident." said Elias
Ardyn turned, staring at her.
"You would have me kill my own son."
"He's already dead in the eyes of the house. Let the world match that truth."
Elias's face hardened. "Selene, enough."
But Selene ignored him. "This is the only way, Father. If you let him live, he may ruin us. If you act, we stay kings. Everyone wears a crown until the day they're caught."
Silence fell.
Ardyn stared at the hearth fire.
A flicker of something passed through his eyes.
Not remorse. But calculation.
Selene smiled.
And the flames crackled louder.
Back in Kael's Room
Kael sat on the edge of his bed, a stained cloth pressed against the side of his head. Blood still crusted the edges of his lips. His eyes stared out the window, where the courtyard trees swayed in the night wind.
He didn't need to wonder anymore. He didn't need to piece it together.
The answer had already struck him — with a force that split lip and bone.
He had always known, deep down.
Now, it was simply... confirmed.
Epilogue Part 1: Departure
The following days passed in silence, as though the events of betrayal, confrontation, and blood had left no echo in the hallowed halls of House Vahn. No one spoke of Kael. No whispers, no glances. It was as if he had already been forgotten.
On the morning of his fourteenth birthday, a modest trunk was placed outside his chamber — no crest, no emblem, just a plain box holding a few sets of worn clothes and a pouch of silver coins, enough to last a week if he was careful. That was the extent of his farewell.
Only Lyra came to see him off.
Her eyes were red, though she tried to smile. "You'll be fine, young master," she said, adjusting his cloak like she had done since he was a boy. "You're stronger than you think."
"I'm not a young master anymore," Kael muttered, looking down at his boots. They still bore the Vahn sigil.
"You'll always be one to me," she replied, and pressed a bundle of warm bread into his hands. "Eat it before it gets cold."
At the gate, the morning sun spilled over the high stone walls, illuminating the sneers of Trisan and a few other knights in black and gold armor. Once, they had ridden beside Kael like protectors. Now, they stood like executioners.
Trisan stepped forward, pulling a crimson sash from his belt — the Vahn guard insignia Kael had once proudly worn.
"You dropped something," Trisan said with mock sympathy, then threw the sash into the mud. "Oops."
Laughter followed.
Kael didn't flinch. Not this time. He picked up the sash, folded it quietly, and placed it in his satchel.
"Not even your father showed up," one knight muttered. "Guess even Lord Ardyn doesn't bother wasting time on garbage."
He walked through the gate without another word.
Behind him, the great iron doors of House Vahn closed shut with a final clang.
And Kael didn't look back.
Epilogue Part 2: Boran's Forge
The city air was heavier than Kael remembered — thick with smoke, coal, and the scent of charred metal. Nestled in a row of crumbling stone buildings near the market district, the smithy was a squat place with a broad chimney belching smoke and the rhythmic clanging of hammers echoing from within.
Boran's Forge.
Lyra had given him directions the night before, along with a scribbled note. Apparently, Boran was a friend of her late grandfather, and she had begged him to take Kael in.
Inside, the forge was warm — uncomfortably so — and filled with the scent of hot iron and sweat. Boran himself was a towering man with a thick black beard streaked with silver. He wore no shirt beneath his apron, his muscled chest and arms coated in soot and old scars.
"You're Kael, huh?" Boran said, voice like gravel as he glanced up from his anvil. "You look softer than I expected."
Kael bowed stiffly. "I won't complain. I'll work."
Boran studied him for a moment, then nodded toward the back. "Apprentice bunk's in there. You eat what we eat, you clean what we don't. You listen, and maybe I won't throw you out."
A boy, about sixteen, emerged from the rear — broad-shouldered with short-cropped hair and thick arms, wiping grease from his hands.
"This is Bram. He's been here two years. Don't get in his way."
Bram gave Kael a curious look, then a simple nod. "If you're gonna cry, do it outside. We work in here."
Kael didn't flinch. "I'm not here to cry."
"Good," Bram grunted. "Then welcome."
As the day wore on, Kael was taught to shovel coal, pump the bellows, and clean soot off the walls. His fingers blistered, and his noble skin burned.
But for the first time in days, his hands had purpose.
And though he didn't know what tomorrow would bring, at least he knew he would face it not as a noble, not as a castaway—
—but as Kael.
A boy with nothing to lose.