Conus stood alone at the edge of the garden, the earth still fresh over his grandfather's sealed grave. The murmurs of the crowd had long faded, leaving only the quiet rustle of leaves and the faint scent of turned soil. He stared at the mound, unsure of what to feel.
Grief was distant, almost foreign. He hadn't known the man, not really. To him, Kayden Aromanus was just a name, a face in photographs. Now, those whispers were drowned by a single, unsettling thought: was it suicide, or was it murder?
It ate at him because neither option made sense. His grandfather, an Elder, one of the first and strongest Pugnators, gone by his own hand? Impossible. Yet if it was murder, who could have made it look so much like a suicide that it was enough to deceive the Inspectors, a group that prided itself on being infallible?
It wasn't his fight. At least, that was what he told himself. But the questions refused to let him go.
"Not even a call?"
The voice snapped him from his thoughts. He turned and found Nadia walking toward him, her heels soft against the grass. She stopped at his side, hands folded behind her back, as calm and poised as ever.
Conus exhaled, managing a half-smile. "I'm sorry. Things… happened."
Nadia tilted her head. "I had no idea you were from an Elder family."
He gave a short laugh. "Neither did I. Found out the same time everyone else did."
Her brow lifted, intrigued, but before she could ask more, Conus' gaze shifted. "Why did you lie?" he asked.
She blinked. "About what?"
"About being an orphan."
Nadia scoffed, an amused sound, and turned her eyes toward the horizon. "Who said I lied?"
Conus studied her, but his attention drifted when he noticed movement near the veranda. The Ice Queen stood with Laura, speaking softly to a cluster of mourners. Her silver hair framed a face that could have been carved from marble, ageless and regal. She was supposed to be in her seventies, yet she moved like someone half that age, her presence quiet but commanding.
Nadia caught the direction of his gaze and smiled faintly.
"She's… beautiful," Conus admitted, half to himself. "You must get it from her. Is she not your mother?"
Nadia shook her head. "No. She's not my mother. She's my aunt, Conus. I am an orphan." She said it like she was tired of convincing him.
Conus nodded slowly, then frowned. "Still, it's quite the coincidence that you both wield ice abilities."
"It is," Nadia agreed, her smile edged with irony. "Quite uncanny, isn't it?"
Abilities were random. They were gifts, curses, or accidents, never inherited, never predictable. It was the nature of The Dream, power chosen by fate, not blood.
Conus found himself glancing at her again.
"Tell me Nadia, do you believe in ghosts?" He asked.
Nadia raised an eyebrow, almost chuckling. "Maybe when I was five. Why?"
"Never mind."
Nadia's voice softened. "I met your grandfather once."
That caught him off guard. "What was he like?"
"Uptight," she said without hesitation. "He never smiled. Always serious, always… heavy. His son did most of the talking for him."
"Josiah?" Conus asked, curious.
"Who?" Nadia's brow furrowed.
He gestured subtly toward a man speaking to another near the corner of the garden. "Him. That's my uncle Josiah."
Nadia shook her head almost immediately. "Not him. It was another."
Conus blinked. "Another?"
He murmured, almost to himself, "I have another uncle?"
Nadia turned to him with a puzzled expression, lips quirking into a frown.
"Conus," she said slowly, "your grandfather had ten children."
Conus laughed at first, thinking Nadia was joking, but the sound died quickly on his lips when he caught the seriousness in her expression. His brows drew together.
"You're not kidding," he said.
"No," she replied, calm as ever. "My aunt told me herself. And she doesn't lie."
Conus looked back at the grave, his mind spinning. "Ten children? That's… insane. Where are they? Should they not be here today?"
Nadia lifted a shoulder. "I don't know. They are your family. All I know is that the media has followed them for years. All except one. He cut ties with the family a long time ago."
"That sounds like my father," Conus murmured.
"I can't blame him," Nadia said with a small shrug.
Conus tilted his head. "Why not?"
"Because the politics of an Elder family can be suffocating," she said, her voice losing some of its usual lightness. "You can't imagine how many eyes are on you at any given time. I've been with my aunt since I was six. Twice, someone tried to kill me. Both times, it was family."
Conus swallowed, his chest tightening.
Nadia noticed and offered a faint, reassuring smile. "So yes, I respect your father for walking away. Sometimes I wish I could."
"Why don't you?"
Her gaze shifted to the Ice Queen, still speaking with Laura near the house. Nadia's expression softened, but there was something unreadable in her eyes. She sighed. "Because I can't. It's not that simple."
She said nothing more, and Conus didn't push.
They stood in silence until the crunch of footsteps on gravel pulled their attention. A man in a dark suit approached, his presence precise and controlled. Black shades hid his eyes, and his expression gave nothing away.
Nadia turned to Conus with a faint smile. "That's my cue. I have to go."
"You're leaving already?"
"I am. But I'll be expecting a text." Her lips curved just slightly. "I still haven't seen what you can do."
Conus returned the smile, a little crooked. "You will."
She nodded once, then let the suited man escort her toward a waiting convoy. Conus watched her step into the sleek car, the Ice Queen following close behind. The vehicles pulled out smoothly, followed by their escorts, the hum of engines fading into the distance.
Around him, the garden slowly emptied. Guests murmured their goodbyes and drifted toward the drive, black coats and dresses moving like shadows across the lawn.
"Quite a pretty lady, she is."
The voice came from his right, sudden and close. Conus stiffened, heart kicking up before he forced himself to turn. A man stood there, lean but broad-shouldered, dressed sharply in a dark suit. A wide-brimmed hat sat low over his brow, but it did little to hide the scar running along the left side of his face. Conus recognized him instantly, he had seen this man earlier inside the house, sitting quietly, almost hidden.
"I didn't sense you," Conus admitted before he could stop himself.
The man's smile was thin but polite. "Forgive me. I forget my manners at times." He gave a small bow. "Gregory. I live near here. Well, not me exactly. I serve as butler to the Crucan family. They are the neighbors. I am only the help."
Conus inclined his head. A man with such a high level was merely a butler? However, he did not let his shock show.
"Conus. Ishira's son."
"Ah," Gregory said, the smile widening slightly. "So you are Kayden's grandson. A fine young man."
"Thank you," Conus replied, still cautious.
Gregory adjusted his hat. "I'm only here as a representative for the Crucan family. They've recently moved to the country, to this neighbourhood, and asked me to offer their respects."
Conus nodded. "I see."
Gregory gave another small bow. "I must take my leave now. It was a pleasure to meet you."
Awkward but polite, Conus dipped his head in return. "Likewise."
The man turned smoothly and walked away, his footsteps silent against the gravel, leaving Conus alone again by the grave.