The dirk plunged into Elara's chest.
Vane's shattered scream blended with the thunder cracking outside. His rusted dagger—the worthless soul weapon he'd awakened only hours ago—trembled in his blood-slicked hand.
Kael, the old steward who had taught him how to ride a horse and hold a sword, lay right in front of him, drowning in a pool of his own blood.
"I'm sorry..." the man whispered, right before drawing his last breath.
Twenty-Four Hours Earlier.
"Kael, how much longer is this going to take?" The young man threw the heavy bale of hay into the corner of the barn, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and turned to the old man.
"Only a few bales left, Young Master Vane. Please, bear with it a little longer."
Vane watched the old man before moving to carry the rest. Kael was in his late fifties, a gray-haired man, but possessed sharp, ocean-blue eyes that heavily contrasted with his age.
The old man smiled as the two stepped outside to grab the final bales. "Tomorrow is the big day, Young Master Vane. You're finally turning eighteen. Believe me, I am just as excited as Lady Elara to see what kind of aether weapon you will awaken." Kael looked Vane up and down as he spoke.
The young man had a scrawny physique, looking as though a strong gust of wind could snap him in half. His pitch-black hair was a messy nest speckled with bits of hay. Yet, despite his frail build, his facial features were sharp and chiseled, like a true aristocrat's. If he were just a bit more built and groomed, he'd be handsome enough to have half the girls in the kingdom chasing after him.
"It baffles me how fast time flies," Kael sighed, his eyes misting over slightly. "It feels like just yesterday... You used to cling to my leg in this very courtyard, begging me to teach you swordplay. Ah, time truly is ruthless."
Vane dropped his bale and hugged the old man, giving his shoulder a light, smiling squeeze. "I wouldn't have made it this far without you, Kael. You might be the steward of this household, but to me, you've always been a father." After the brief emotional moment, Vane's expression turned serious. "But regarding that aether awakening... I highly doubt my mother is excited about it in the slightest."
Kael's shoulders slumped. He looked at Vane with pity in his eyes. "She has her own justified worries, Young Master Vane. Even if you don't pose an immediate threat to your father and his family... You still carry the royal Valerius blood."
"The King or his royalty mean absolutely nothing to me," Vane cut in, his voice turning ice-cold. "I expect nothing from the father who abandoned me and my mother in this backwater. You know that better than anyone, Kael."
Hoisting the remaining bales into the barn, Vane continued with a fake smile. "Besides, how could a half-blood bastard like me ever find a place in the bloody race of kings? The King and his family know damn well that I'm not a threat."
The old man affectionately ruffled Vane's dusty hair. "When a noble turns eighteen, their soul resonates with Aether and manifests into a physical form—"
"The resulting 'Soul Weapon' is the purest reflection of a person's character, potential, and lineage," Vane finished from memory. "Yes, Kael, I know the tale. You drilled it into my skull during countless sparring sessions."
"If you know it, then why don't you believe in yourself, Young Master Vane? Your mother might not belong to the Pillars, but she is a woman of noble and pure spirit. And your father... is King Vorian Leynthey, the ruler of these lands. I am absolutely certain there is a noble weapon waiting to awaken within you."
Vane just shook his head instead of replying and stepped out to grab the last bale.
The Pillars, Vane thought mockingly. Ten Families, Ten Pillars... A privilege tantamount to godhood. Everything in the kingdom was monopolized by these ten families. His own father, Vorian Leynthey, belonged to the First Pillar, the absolute peak that had produced the last three monarchs. Absolute military and political power. And he... was the unwanted bastard child that the glorious King kept hidden from everyone. While the King lived in luxury in his golden palace with his queen and legitimate children, Vane was here, hauling hay in the mud.
He tossed the final bale inside, muttering under his breath.
"I believe in you, Young Master Vane. I know the potential inside you that you can't see. Just trust yourself."
Vane responded to those words with a sincere, bittersweet thank you.
Just then, a warm, familiar voice called out from outside. "Dinner is ready! Are you two still not done?"
"We don't want to keep my mother waiting, Kael, you know how she gets." The two men walked toward the house, laughing.
The interior of the house was of a cruel simplicity, the kind deemed fitting for a King's former lover and his illegitimate son. It was barely a step up from a common peasant's hut. Vane looked at the woman setting the table—his mother. She had flawless, pale skin like porcelain, and raven-black hair cascading down her shoulders like water. Despite the rough, worn-out linen dress she wore, she moved with an aristocratic grace she simply couldn't hide. Fine lines of exhaustion marked her face, but the most striking feature was the ancient sorrow residing in her deep purple, almost witch-like eyes—eyes that Vane had inherited.
Vane quietly approached from behind, wrapped his arms around her, and planted a gentle kiss on her pale cheek. Then, he bowed with the exaggerated, formal gravity befitting a prince. "Is there anything I can assist you with, My Lady?"
The woman giggled. "Cut the clowning around, Vane, and go fetch the pot from the stove."
As Vane headed for the stove, his eyes lingered for a moment on the crude aether system feeding the flames. Aether. The lifeblood of this kingdom. This boundless energy of unknown origin was just fuel for the commoners—used to ignite stoves or light up homes. But for the vassals, it was forged into deadly weapons, and for the Pillars, it morphed into those devastating Aether Arts that made them look like 'Gods' to the lower classes.
Vane brought the pot to the table. Kael had already taken his seat. As Elara served the food, she turned to the steward. "Kael, while you were in the barn, a letter arrived for you from the palace. I left it on the cabinet by the entrance."
"Thank you, My Lady. I'll read it after dinner; I wouldn't want to disrespect the table," Kael smiled warmly.
"It could be important, Kael. Vane, sweetie, could you bring him the letter?"
"Right away, mom." Vane walked to the cabinet and picked up the envelope. It bore the heavy, crimson royal seal. The recipient line simply read: Kael Hillstate.
He handed the letter to Kael. The old man tore the envelope open, his eyes scanning the lines rapidly.
And for a fleeting moment, all the blood drained from the old man's face. He turned as pale as a sheet.
"Kael... Are you alright?" Vane instantly sensed something was wrong.
"An... unexpected problem has arisen regarding my family in the capital, Young Master Vane." The man took a shaky breath. "Please excuse me. I need to depart for the capital immediately." He stood up, giving a hurried bow.
"I hope it's not an unsolvable problem, Kael," Elara said, trying to keep her voice as calm and comforting as possible.
"I hope so..." the old man whispered. His voice was as dead as a corpse.
Kael threw his coat over his shoulders and was just stepping out the door when Vane called after him. "Do you want me to come with you, Kael?"
Vane had known the man for years. Kael's wife had died long before he was born. The only family he had left was his daughter, who was married to a vassal in the capital. Vane instantly weighed the situation: This isn't an illness or an accident. The look in the man's eyes was pure, unadulterated fear.
The old man paused at the door. His back was turned. "There's no need, Young Master Vane. I will make it back in time for your awakening, for your birthday. Do not worry."
"As if that matters, Kael," Vane smiled. "Knowing your family is safe would be the greatest gift of all."
And with that, the old man vanished into the darkness of the night.
Only Vane and Elara were left at the dining table.
"Do you think it's something serious, mom?"
Elara avoided his gaze, continuing to pick at her food. "You're diving into those sharp thoughts of yours again, Vane. I know you're a smart boy, but sometimes digging too deep into things brings the worst disasters right to your doorstep. Never forget that."
After dinner, they handled the dishes together. Elara placed two cups of fragrant, steaming tea on the wooden table.
Taking a sip of his tea, Vane noticed his mother watching him with eyes full of both affection and terror.
"Tomorrow is the big day, Vane... What if you're not satisfied with what you awaken? What will you do then?"
Vane set the hot cup down. "I have a solid foundation in all kinds of weapons thanks to Kael, mom. I have zero intention of ruling kings or claiming the throne. As long as I have enough strength to protect you, that's more than enough for me."
Elara got up, walked over to her son, and wrapped her slender arms tightly around him. Vane returned the embrace with the same warmth. In that moment, that run-down country house felt like the safest fortress in the world.
Seconds before midnight, Vane stood in front of the full-length mirror in his room. He locked onto his own eyes—that deep, almost blackish purple. I hope I can awaken something that will save my mother and me from this pathetic life forever, he thought to himself. Taking a deep breath, he lay down on his bed.
And as the clock struck midnight, the world stopped.
A suffocating, pure cloud of aether suddenly condensed in the middle of the room. Vane's mouth opened involuntarily, and that massive mass of energy began flooding into his lungs and veins like a vortex.
Vane's eyes shot wide open. It was an indescribable, hellish agony—as if his bones were being ground to dust from the inside out and his blood was boiling. He couldn't even scream.
When the pain abruptly ceased like a severed thread, Vane collapsed to the floor. Blinding, golden flames erupted from his left hand, and right in the center of that inferno, a magnificent, regal sword worthy of kings was taking shape.
But that majesty lasted for a mere second. Vane's eyes suddenly flared a brilliant, savage purple. It was so intense that the purple light swallowed the entire room. Vane's body couldn't handle this sheer, monstrous energy; he convulsed, feeling as if he was going to detonate from the inside.
The door burst open. Elara stormed into the room. Pure terror was etched on her face. Without a second thought, she grabbed the burning golden sword in her son's hand barehanded. Her palms were sliced open; her blood hissed as it dripped onto the flames.
Ritualistic words in an ancient, forgotten tongue spilled from her lips. "Please... Please..." she mumbled desperately.
Like a flash of lightning, everything abruptly stopped. The golden flames extinguished. That noble sword shriveled, blackened, and morphed into a worthless, rusted dagger in Vane's palm.
"I'm sorry, my son..." Elara whispered, planting a kiss on Vane's sweat-drenched forehead. As she left the room, she glanced at the mirror from the corner of her eye. The purple light in her eyes was gone; her irises were now nothing but a bottomless, pitch-black void.
When the first light of dawn hit the room, Vane woke up. He raised his right hand and stared at the cheap, rusted dagger.
"What was I expecting?" he let out a bitter laugh. "How could a half-blood bastard summon a noble weapon?"
At that moment, a sealed door shattered in the depths of his mind. Ancient knowledge regarding soul weapons and the fundamental flow of aether flooded his brain like a torrent. He exerted his will slightly, and the rusty dagger melted away like a shadow, returning to his soul.
Stepping out of his room, he was greeted by the scene in the kitchen. Kael had returned, and Elara was preparing breakfast. The moment they saw Vane, they held their breath, their eyes locked onto him.
Vane extended his right hand and summoned the dagger from the void. He waved it around with a mocking attitude, as if displaying a spoil of war. "How is it? Pretty flashy, right? It even comes with built-in rust patterns."
Elara pulled her son into a tight hug, a pitiful and guilty smile on her face. "It's wonderful, my boy... Just like Kael's soul weapon. Functional and fast."
Kael could feel the crushing disappointment beneath the boy's fake smile. He approached with heavy steps and squeezed Vane's shoulder. But in that instant, Vane saw something far darker than consolation in Kael's eyes. It was as if the man was silently begging for forgiveness.
"Congratulations, Young Master Vane," Kael said, forcing a fake cheerfulness into his voice. "I am looking forward to our training sessions with this weapon."
"Eh," Vane shrugged. "At least it won't take up too much space in my soul."
Elara lit the candles on the makeshift cake she pulled from the oven. "Happy Birthday, Vane..."
As Kael and Elara hummed the familiar tune, Vane was just about to blow out the candles when his mother covered his mouth with her hand. "Make a wish first, silly."
Vane closed his eyes. He wished for only one thing: I'll accept this freakish life... Just as long as this happy family portrait is never ruined.
He blew out the candles. As Elara cut the cake, Vane was about to take a seat.
"What did you wish for? To be king someday?" Kael laughed out loud.
Vane paused. Kael never made such crossing-the-line jokes. The man's voice... sounded artificial. Tense.
"Kael, what's wrong with you? Is your family alright?" Vane asked, furrowing his brows.
The old man averted his gaze. "Yes... Yes, they are very well. They sent you their highest regards, YOUNG MASTER VANE."
Literally in the span of a second, the old man shot up from his chair. A military dirk, manifested from nothingness, glinted in his hand. He launched a lethal thrust directly at Vane.
Time froze for Vane in that moment. He saw Kael charging at him, the agonizing tears streaming down the man's cheeks, all in slow motion.
In the split second Vane commanded his mind to summon his own rusty dagger, a shadow threw itself between them with a speed faster than the blink of an eye.
ELARA.
SLTCH!
The sound of tearing flesh and bone echoed through the kitchen. Kael's dirk had plunged straight into the heart of Elara, who had shielded Vane just before the blade reached him, shattering her ribcage.
The old man leaped back in sheer horror, his dirk fading and vanishing from his hands.
Vane's sanity snapped in that instant. He let out a scream that tore at his throat. His eyes turned bloodshot. With the rusty dagger in his hand, he lunged at Kael like a rabid, out-of-control animal.
"HOW?! HOW COULD YOU DO SOMETHING LIKE THIS, KAEL?!"
The old man simply stepped back to evade Vane's desperate, savage slashes. He didn't defend himself. Tears cascaded from his eyes. As Vane's lungs burned and his attacks slowed, the young man broke down in sobs.
"WHY DID YOU DO IT, KAEL?! YOU... YOU WERE LIKE A FATHER TO ME!"
Those words halted Kael's footsteps like he had hit a brick wall. The old man spread his arms wide and allowed Vane's blindly swung rusty dagger to bury itself directly into his own jugular.
Blood sprayed from the old man's throat, painting Vane's face. Spitting up his own blood, Kael dropped to his knees, and then slumped to the floor.
With trembling hands, Vane fell to his knees beside the man. "Why Kael... Why?"
The old man let out a wet, gurgling wheeze due to the blood flooding his throat. He looked at Vane with desperate eyes. "T-The Queen... My family..." Before that final spark of life faded from his eyes, a single whisper escaped his lips: "I'm sorry..."
The man was dead.
Vane's mind was in pieces. Suddenly, he remembered the blood-curdling reality behind him. Stumbling, he rushed to his mother's side and crashed to his knees.
"M-Mom... Breathe! Please mom, hold on! You're going to be okay, I'll find a doctor right now, I—"
With her bloody hands, Elara cupped Vane's ice-cold face. She smiled. "M-My son... You... You are a perfect boy." The blood leaking from her mouth dripped down her chin. "My closet... The seal and the letter. N-Never open the letter... Promise me Vane... And go straight to the palace."
"I promise mom! I promise, but please... Please don't leave me! We'll go together! I'll demand answers from my father, with this weapon I awakened—"
"V-Vane... Listen to me... Never fully trust your father's love. B-But he... He is the only one who can protect you behind those walls..."
"Until when, mom?! I'm begging you..."
"For your d-destiny... I'm sorry, my darling..."
And the final light in the woman's eyes went out. Her hands slipped from Vane's cheeks, dropping onto the bloody wooden floor.
Vane didn't scream. He didn't cry. The only sound echoing between the two corpses lying on the floor of that run-down country house was the sickly, hysterical laughter spilling from a young man's lips. He was crying and laughing at the same time.
"MY WISH!" he roared into the void. "THERE WAS ONLY ONE WISH I WANTED FORM THE DEPTH OF MY SOUL!"
His laughter slowly faded. It was replaced by a deadly silence.
He stood up. He gently covered his mother's face with a clean cloth. Then, despite the repulsive feeling churning inside him, he showed the same respect to Kael for the sake of the past. He was furious at him, he was broken by him, but his mind was rapidly piecing the puzzle together.
My eighteenth birthday. The Awakening. Kael's sudden departure to the palace... His family. The Queen. I'm sorry.
He walked to his mother's bedroom. At the bottom of the old wooden wardrobe sat a small, iron-wrought chest. He summoned his rusty dagger, jammed it into the lock, and snapped it with a single heave. Inside lay an old letter and a ring carved from pure Aether crystal, bearing the massive crest of the Valerius Empire. King Vorian's personal seal.
What is my father's seal doing here? Vane thought. But he didn't have the mental luxury to question it right now.
Outside, lightning tore through the sky once again, and rain poured down in buckets.
Vane walked to the barn with heavy steps. He grabbed a shovel and began digging into the cold, muddy earth.
He dug for his mother first. His fingers blistered, burst, and his blood mixed with the mud, but he didn't stop. Then... he dug a second grave for the damn man who took his mother from him, yet raised him like a father up until this age.
The rain was so torrential that it was impossible to tell whether it was tears or raindrops streaming down his face.
When the digging was done, he went back inside. He carried his mother's delicate, ice-cold body in his arms and laid her down into the mud with his own hands. He leaned in and placed one last kiss on her pale forehead. Then, carrying Kael's corpse in his arms, he lowered him into the adjacent grave.
After covering the graves with earth, he bowed deeply in respect before both of them.
He returned to the barn and prepared a torch. He went into the house, ignited the torch with the last remaining aether flame under the stove, and set his eighteen years of life, his home, ablaze.
The young man's face was devoid of all emotion as he watched the flames devour the house. Today, everyone had a reason to apologize, he thought. To keep the promise he made to his mother, he set out on the dark path, the seal hanging around his neck, the letter in his pocket, and a cold fire of vengeance in his heart.
The journey to the capital was hell. He hid in the coal cars of freight trains, getting covered in filth, and by sometimes threatening merchants and sometimes begging them, he traveled in the beds of aether wagons, reaching the capital within a single day.
When he reached the colossal, steam-piston-powered golden gates of the Royal Palace, the guards mistook him for a leprous beggar.
"Get lost, sewer rat!" they sneered, trying to shove him away with the tips of their spears.
He was covered in a layer of dried blood, mud, and soot. Vane swiftly snapped the string around his neck and shoved the Aether crystal ring right into the guards' faces.
Resonating with the Vorian blood in Vane's veins, the ring flared with a blinding, pure golden light.
The mocking sneers on the guards' faces were erased in seconds. Their legs trembled as they collapsed to their knees.
The Blood Law was absolute. Any member of the lineage bearing the crest, even if they were dressed in rags, had to be escorted immediately and safely to the Throne Room.
Escorted by two heavily armored elite guards, Vane began walking down the palace's colossal, gold-embroidered, red-carpeted corridors whose ceilings seemed to pierce the sky. The surrounding nobles clad in silk stared at this muddy, bloodstained youth with utter disgust.
Right then, an entourage appeared at the far end of the hall.
Surrounded by four golden-armored elite Aether Guards, a woman was walking forward. She wore a dress woven of blood-red and black silk that reeked of elegance and death.
Queen Isolde.
Her beauty was frigid. And her gaze... was just as lethal as the dirk that had pierced Elara's heart.
The entourage halted when they leveled with Vane. The Queen's eyes drifted over the mud and dried blood on Vane's face, eventually landing on the seal ring hanging from his neck.
And in that exact second, she understood why Kael hadn't returned. The target was alive.
A thin, disdainful smile curled the Queen's lips. "You are dirtying the floors of my palace, boy."
Vane's right hand twitched instinctively. His mind pulsed dangerously with the urge to summon his rusty dagger from the void into his palm.
This snake threatened Kael's family, roared the savage voice inside his head. My mother's blood is on this woman's hands! I could summon the dagger right now and plunge it into her pale throat!
His heart was thundering as if it were going to shatter his ribcage. She was only two meters away.
But in a tenth of a second, Vane's pitch-black, bottomless eyes flicked to the four elite guards behind the Queen. The guards' hands were already on the hilts of their swords, lethal Aether sparks crackling at their fingertips. The moment he attempted to manifest his dagger in his palm, they would turn him into ice or ash right on the spot.
If I surrender to my rage, I will never find the answers to my questions. I won't be able to keep the last promise I made to my mother.
If I try to kill her now, it will be nothing more than a foolish suicide, the pragmatic, Machiavellian side of his mind whispered. It was as if ice-cold water had been poured over his blazing hatred.
I am helpless. Right now, I'm no different than a bug waiting to be squashed in this palace. But if I survive being crushed under her heel today... One day, I will rip that crown from her arrogant neck, right along with her head.
Vane slowly lowered his head. He offered a flawless, completely obedient noble's bow.
"Forgive me, Your Majesty," Vane said. Though his voice cracked slightly, it was cloaked in an icy calm. "I shall get out of your way immediately."
The Queen narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing Vane. Not seeing the pathetic outburst of rage, the attack she had expected, made her inwardly uncomfortable. Without uttering a single word more, she glided past him with her repulsive arrogance.
When Vane straightened his posture, the colossal, engraved brass doors of the throne room stood right in front of him.
Just as he reached for the doorknob, something stirred inside him.
In the depths of that rusty dagger slumbering in the darkness of his soul, something ancient, dark, and colossal opened its eyes, like a serpent awakening from a centuries-long slumber.
A cold, aristocratic, and incredibly feminine voice echoed directly inside his head.
"Fascinating."
Vane halted his step in mid-air.
"Who—"
"To realize so quickly that revenge is, in fact, an art of timing... How utterly pragmatic."
The voice wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. It filled his mind slowly, seeping into every corner like water filling a cracked glass.
Vane's pulse skyrocketed. His breathing quickened. He discreetly glanced around, but not a single muscle twitched on the faces of the guards flanking him. They couldn't hear the voice.
Am I losing my mind? he thought to himself.
"No, boy. Though it's certain that option would be far less painful for you."
The timber of the voice carried a faint, mocking sense of amusement—like a queen watching a rat desperately try to navigate a maze.
"What are you?" Vane whispered, barely moving his lips.
There was a momentary silence.
Then, from the darkest corner of his mind, a softer, almost velvet-like whisper arose:
"You will find out soon enough. Or you will die trying to digest that power. But in either case..."
A phantom sensation—ice-cold, slender fingers gently trailing down the back of his neck—sent a shudder through Vane's entire body.
"...I will be watching you."
And then, the only thing left was the creak of the throne room's heavy doors.