Back in Dracknum's conference hall.
The atmosphere carried a palpable gravity.
The long table of black oak reflected the yellowish light that illuminated the place, while the walls, covered with ancient tapestries recounting past victories, seemed to silently watch the men and women gathered there.
The meeting went on as planned, but every face gave away more than words could hide.
Tight expressions, hardened eyes, tensed jaws. Some discreetly drummed their fingers on the wood, others kept their hands clasped tightly together, as if that alone kept them from exploding.
They tried, at all costs, to put on masks of neutrality.
But with each new topic addressed, deaths on the borders, suppressed rebellions, veiled betrayals, the rumor of outside forces growing on the horizon, especially with the first and last topics of the meeting, the atmosphere grew more suffocating.
The silence between speakers was heavy, almost physical, as if even the air were afraid to move.
It had been a long time since Dracknum had witnessed a meeting so charged.
When the deep voice of the spokesman rang out, closing the gathering, the sound seemed to cut through the tension like a blade:
“With this… the first session of this year's meeting is brought to a close.” he said, and the echo of his words hung in the air for a few seconds, heavier than iron.
No one stood up right away. Some avoided meeting each other's eyes, others lowered their heads, quietly reflecting on what it all meant.
An elderly councilor adjusted his cloak with trembling hands; another, younger, bit the inside of his cheek, holding back words he did not dare speak.
Only the sound of chairs slowly scraping against the stone floor began to fill the room.
And yet, the feeling was that nothing had truly been concluded. Only postponed.
✦ ✦ ✦
Outside, in one of the open galleries, Cesar Dracknum stood motionless, leaning against one of the cold marble pillars. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, fists clenched as if holding an invisible weight, while his half-closed eyes drifted to the courtyard beside him, where a few guards carried out routine exercises.
The wind cut gently through the arches, bringing with it the metallic clang of blades colliding and the heavy rhythm of boots against packed earth.
Still, Cesar didn't seem to really hear. His closed expression gave him away as a man lost in reflections he wasn't used to having.
Then footsteps echoed down the corridor. Firm, measured, but unhurried. Even so, Cesar did not react right away.
“How curious…” said a calm voice, yet sharp as polished steel. “That even the one who has always been famous for acting without thinking, upon facing that which is dear to him, suddenly becomes the most diligent of thinkers.”
The words sounded like a veiled judgment, but also like an unavoidable observation.
“Have I ever told you that… the way you speak irritates me profoundly?” Cesar's voice came out deep, almost a growl, but not aggressive; there was a weariness in it.
He raised his face, the hard expression partly dissolving as he recognized the figures approaching.
“Israel…” he murmured first, like someone returning a provocation with disdain. But soon Cesar's eyes lit up, and his posture, until then rigid, softened.
“Oh… Luminus… and…” the word died for a moment on his lips, as if memory were playing a cruel trick on him. But when his eyes settled on the young lady advancing serenely, Cesar took a deep breath, almost in relief.
She walked with firm steps, her head held high with a natural elegance, her long black hair swaying in the wind that swept through the gallery. Her golden eyes, striking as embers in the dead of night, held a solemn calm. Beside her, a child with small hands and a curious gaze accompanied her, clinging to her fingers like someone holding on to an entire world.
“Selene!” Cesar exclaimed at last, and the hardness of his voice broke into a flash of genuine tenderness.
His gaze dropped to the child. And, as if an entire wall had collapsed, the warrior's rigidity gave way to the older brother.
“And little William too…” he murmured, bending down. “How long it's been, my boy…”
Selene tilted her head slightly, a delicate smile curving her lips. “Indeed, quite a long time, brother.” Her voice sounded soft, yet sustained by a firm elegance, the voice of someone who had learned to use sweetness as a form of authority.
“Cesar, Cesar, look, look!” William broke the mood with his childlike energy. He raised his little hand, his golden eyes shining with anticipation. — “Flame!” —
And as if by miracle, a small flame sprouted, flickering in the child's palm.
“Look at that!” Cesar burst out laughing, forgetting for a moment all the gravity he carried on his shoulders. He lifted the boy off the ground with both arms and tossed him gently into the air, catching him firmly. “You can already use magic!”
The flame wavered and went out right away, but William's smile was bigger than any fire.
Selene watched the scene in silence. There was tenderness in her gaze, but also a discreet shadow, as if she carried a worry she did not dare voice. After all, Selene was more than just Cesar's sister.
She was the fifth daughter of Thomas Dracknum, married at eighteen to a renowned lord, having moved early away from the daily life of the family. Since then, reunions had become rare, only on occasional visits, or at specific events like the annual meetings, each one always tinged with a certain weight of the past.
William, for his part, was a case apart. The eighth and youngest child, The only bastard. Not by his own choice, but by the blood that ran in his veins.
Thomas Dracknum, the patriarch, like every human being, had had moments of downfall and weakness. One of those nights, shaken by the loss of his first wife, resulted in William, the child of a prostitute who did not survive the birth. The boy had been born marked by that stigma, even though he was the patriarch's son.
Selene had taken in her little brother as if he were her own son. Not out of obligation, but from a mix of compassion and conviction. She knew that, even in a family as close-knit as the Dracknums, there were still eyes blinded by noble pride.
For now, perhaps the chances of him being mistreated were small, but as he grew, that shadow could widen. It wasn't hard to imagine: a sidelong glance in the corridors, a comment whispered behind his back, a subtle exclusion from training and gatherings. Ten percent of noble ostracism was already enough to crush any ordinary child.
Selene knew this. And Selene had not allowed it. That was why William now walked beside her, protected, loved, lifted up.
Cesar, holding the boy in the air, smiled as he hadn't smiled in a long time. “I can already see that, despite everything, you're going to be a handful, little Dracknum…”
William laughed, the flame appearing again between his fingers, fragile, but alive.
Cesar was still smiling, a broad, almost fatherly smile, but as his eyes lingered more and more on the little one, the curve of his mouth slowly gave way to the weight of worry. The glow of tenderness in his gaze began to yield to a shadow, a rigidity that locked his jaw and clenched his fists.
Israel was the first to notice. With his arms crossed and his gaze half-lidded, he tilted his head slightly to one side and, in a tone that seemed both warning and irony, let slip:
“Cesar… should you persist in transfixing the lad with so unyielding a stare, sooner or later you shall instill in him more dread than comfort.”
Luminus, who until then had been watching in silence, raised his eyebrows and sighed, his voice steeped in a cold lucidity, almost biting:
“Don't worry too much about him. That idiot keeps ruminating over things he can never control. As always.”
Cesar did not answer right away. With a firm but gentle gesture, he lifted William and set him on his shoulders. The boy spread his arms as if flying, the flame already forgotten in his little hand, and a crystalline laugh escaped his lips.
Only then did Cesar turn his face toward Luminus. His eyes hardened, but his voice came out deep, drawn out, laden with an almost ritual seriousness: “You will be the next patriarch, Luminus. It should not fall to me to remind you of that burden.”
No more words were needed. The silence that followed spoke for itself. Everyone there, Israel included, understood the implications hidden beneath that sentence. It was not a warning, far from it, it was a reminder…
Everyone, except Selene, who watched the scene with a delicate elegance but growing confusion, and William, too busy playing with the height of Cesar's shoulder to notice the density in the air.
The young woman, her black hair rippling in the breeze of the open corridor, kept her posture upright, but her golden eyes narrowed slightly, betraying the doubt gnawing at her mind.
“Is there something… you're not telling me?” she asked at last, her voice calm, but sharpened by worry.
Luminus sighed, like someone carrying the weight of a hundred sleepless nights. Against the council's rules, he began to recap the topics of the meeting. Still, no one reprimanded him.
Selene was no stranger; even though she was married to a foreign noble, Dracknum blood ran in her veins, and above all she was someone who could be trusted without hesitation.
As for William, however perceptive he was for his age, he was still a child. He wouldn't understand the intricacies of political discussions and, ironically, he was better able to keep silence and secrets than many men three times his age.
✦ ✦ ✦
Selene's face slowly clouded over, the golden light of her eyes growing heavier, almost melancholic. Yet the strict education of a noble lady shaped her every gesture: the upright composure, the lips barely curved in an almost-smile, the absolute control over what she let show.
“So that's it… that's what is eating at you all…” she murmured. In an instinctive gesture, her fingers slid across her abdomen, while her gaze, swift as an arrow, fell upon William. “Dangerous times are approaching.”
“Approaching?” Cesar interrupted, his voice firm, but without rising to a shout. “They're already here!”
“Cesar…” Luminus warned, curtly, like someone stopping a blade before it cuts any deeper.
Cesar took a deep breath, his chest heaving as if the very walls were oppressing him. His whole body trembled, seized by a corrosive mix of rage and helplessness.
“Forgive me… but it's unbearable. Setting aside the outside factors, the imminence of a conflict that could drag in the entire kingdom… the simple fact that, here inside, inside our own home, my brother is at risk… and I can't lift a finger in his defense… that is… that is intolerable!”
A vein pulsed in his jaw, his fists clenched as if they wanted to crush the air. His voice came out rougher, almost a contained roar:
“Situations like this make me question whether being a Dracknum is really something so goo—”
The dry sound of an impact cut through the air.
Luminus had punched him before the word could be finished. The silence that followed was deafening.
Cesar staggered, bringing a hand to his face, the fury already rising in him like a wave about to break, but before he could react, Israel restrained him with a firm hand on his shoulder.
At the same time, Selene, nimble, grabbed Luminus by the arm, stopping him from advancing further.
The air hung heavy between them. Israel, until then silent, raised his chin. His voice sounded deep, refined, but laden with the lucid melancholy of someone who had learned to live in silence with deep pains:
“We understand, Cesar. The anguish that consumes you is no stranger to us. Do bear in mind that you are not the only one keeping helpless vigil over those you love. My little brother, likewise, finds himself ensnared in this web of perils that he did not choose.”
The words hung like a sentence, but there was no time for reflection.
“Above all,” Luminus cut in, his voice incisive, his gaze flashing, yet his bearing still elegant, “there is no use in reciting laments for someone whose life has not yet been given up as lost. I understand your fears, but don't you dare insult the family, or bury Alexander before his time!”
It was rare, exceedingly rare, to see him lose his composure. The one who had always seemed impenetrable now rose like a flame about to set the very room on fire. Even Cesar, still throbbing from the punch, halted. And in that instant, he remembered: Luminus also carried an invisible, suffocating weight, something that silently gnawed at his insides and that he never put into words.
The silence was broken by a soft, innocent, yet disconcerting voice:
“Is something wrong with big brother Alexander?” William asked, his little head tilting to the side as he looked at Cesar, as if the adult world were merely a translucent veil he was trying to see through.
Cesar's heart trembled. Seeing that small face, gazing up at him, disarmed the rage consuming him. The muscles of his body relaxed like red-hot iron plunged into cold water.
Selene, seizing the opportunity, approached and took the boy in her arms, gently drawing him away from her brother's shoulders. She stroked his black hair and spoke with the calm sweetness of someone who knows how to soothe storms:
“No, no, little William. Your brother Cesar just worries too much. Alexander is fine. He's only facing a very difficult test, and he'll be back soon.”
William raised his golden eyes to her. “A test… very difficult?”
Selene smiled, but there was a shadow in her expression. “Yes, my dear.”
Israel then leaned in, drawing close to the boy's face, his voice softer, though still bearing that tone of restrained nobility: “So arduous that it may take years to complete.”
William's eyes widened. “Years?”
“Yes… years,” Israel confirmed, firm but gentle.
The boy was silent for a few seconds. Then he smiled, with the pure, unshakable confidence that only a child could have.
“Then there's no problem. Alexander is a genius. He'll finish in a few weeks… and he'll still keep his promise to read me stories before bed.”
The words echoed in the air, simple and innocent, but they struck the adults like a well-aimed arrow. For in that childlike smile there was more hope than any of them could carry.