Chapter 6
The Conclave
The dining hall was quieter than usual.
It was just royal family.
“An oracle conclave?”
Mareth nodded casually as he sipped his morning brew and tore off a strip of spiced dried meat with his teeth, chewing thoughtfully.
“Yes. Best way out of this mess is counsel,” he said, as if discussing the weather. “You need someone who can look at your fate and reflect it back to you. An oracle who chooses you. Not the other way around.”
Goroth grunted in agreement, carving into a slab of roasted meat with brutal efficiency.
“Fortunately,” Mareth continued, leaning back in his chair, “there’s a conclave gathering in a few days. Dozens of them. Convenient timing.” He smirked. “And I managed to secure an invitation.”
Beside Aldric, Seraphae leaned in close, her warmth and softness impossible to ignore. One arm draped loosely over his shoulder, her fingers tracing idle patterns against his tunic as if to remind him she was there.
She rolled her eyes dramatically.
“Wonderful. A hall full of dramatic mystics with too much eyeliner and not enough boundaries.”
Leaning forward, she grabbed her cutlery, speared a piece of spiced peach and some root salad, and took a deliberate bite. Then she gestured vaguely at Mareth with her fork.
“I’m going too. Some of those oracles get grabby. And half of them used to be exotic dancers before they ‘found enlightenment.’”
Mareth snorted.
“Jealous?”
“Protective,” she shot back sweetly.
She flicked a small piece of the peach from her fork toward the floor.
A loud chomp followed, then a tiny squeal of approval and enthusiastic panting.
Under the table, Nimble wagged his tail like a whip against the wooden legs.
For a split second, while Seraphae’s attention was on the dog, Mareth’s gaze shifted to Aldric.
The aloof smirk was gone.
Seriousness had taken its place.
Goroth, too, glanced his way, expression unreadable.
The sisters were absent. A few days after Seraphae’s arrival, and Mareth’s return, the excitement had faded. Now they had scattered like dust in the wind, chasing their own mischief and romances.
Elathiel watched Aldric quietly, her gaze holding a mix of pity and compassion. She said nothing, yet he couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that she saw far more than she let on.
Breakfast resumed in a low hum of conversation.
But Aldric remained silent.
Too silent.
Seraphae noticed.
Later, when they slipped into one of the smaller side chambers off the dining hall, she folded her arms and looked up at him.
“Hey… You’re different. Something happened yesterday.”
Aldric exhaled slowly.
“We killed a dragon. Well, your brother and dad did. I was just there for the ride.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Don’t deflect. I’m not stupid. I can feel it. Something’s changed. And my dad and Mareth won’t tell me what.”
He fell silent.
“I’m not trying to shut you out.”
“Then why won’t you tell me?”
That was when he felt it.
The pressure.
The frustration.
Surging through his mind.
From always having to prove himself.
From being tested.
Since the moment he had arrived in Nerathys.
From never being enough on his own.
And now this.
Now even her.
Another thing he had to explain.
Another thing he had to justify.
Another obstacle in a mess he barely understood himself.
He was fighting the brand creeping into his thoughts.
You think that I don’t want to tell you?
Why can’t you trust me?
Please.
Just for once!
The shadow of something ancient watching him.
The feeling of not belonging in this world.
And now he had to convince her why he couldn’t speak.
Why he was lost.
Why he was tired.
Something in him snapped.
“Because there’s a fucking reason, Rae,” he said sharply. “And if you can’t understand that, I can’t help you.”
Her eyes widened.
“Why does everyone here treat me like some fucking squire?” he went on, voice rising despite himself. “Like I have to prove myself constantly?”
Silence fell between them.
Her golden eyes went wide.
She took a small step back.
Her wings drooped slightly.
Her head lowered.
She retreated, just enough to hurt.
And he saw it.
The shift.
The pain in her gaze.
It hit him immediately.
The anger subsided.
And in its place… powerlessness.
And shame.
“Rae,” he said, his voice softening at once. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… it’s been a lot. And this brand, it’s messing with me. I’m sorry. I—”
She didn’t look at him for a moment.
Then she nodded once.
“I know,” she said quietly. “I’ll see you at noon.”
She gave him a weak smile and turned away, wings folding slightly around herself as she walked toward her chamber.
The sound of her heels echoing softly against the stone floor.
Aldric exhaled.
Part of him wanted to go after her. To pull her back. To apologize properly instead of half-muttered excuses.
But he didn’t move.
Too late.
The frustration and resentment swelled again, hot and ugly in his chest.
Fine.
Go then.
Leave me to this nonsense.
I’ve been playing along. Trying to fit in. Trying to prove myself.
And what do I get?
Left alone to untangle a fate no one can even explain to me.
Being handled like some piece on a board.
Now I have to find an oracle.
Gods… when does this nonsense end?
His jaw tightened.
The anger didn’t cool.
It bloomed.
He needed movement. Impact. Something honest.
Without another word, Aldric turned and walked.
Down the corridors.
Past flickering torches and quiet servants who wisely stepped aside.
To the only place he knew would still his mind—
The training grounds.
The day was fog-choked and dim, the sky pressed low and colorless. Everything looked washed in grey. He lost track of time almost immediately.
He wasn’t hungry.
Didn’t notice the ache in his limbs.
Didn’t care.
One weapon after another came off the rack.
Sword.
Spear.
Axe.
Halberd.
Steel rang. Wood cracked. Breath burned.
The brand flared hot and insistent.
Annoying.
Unrelenting.
Still there.
He ignored it.
Trained until his muscles screamed.
Until sweat soaked through his clothes.
Until his vision blurred at the edges.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Steel rang against wood and leather, each strike heavier than the last, driven by frustration, fear, and something he refused to name.
His breath came in ragged clouds.
One final swing.
He put everything into it.
The blade struck the dummy with a thunderous crack—
And bent.
Metal warped under the force.
Aldric froze.
Then a raw, wordless scream of rage tore from his throat.
It ripped into the otherwise silent courtyard.
Steam rolled from his skin, rising in pale coils. His chest heaved. His hands trembled around the ruined weapon.
Silence followed.
From the shadows at the edge of the courtyard, a pair of muted golden eyes observed him.
Unblinking.
Curious.
Aldric dropped to one knee, the ruined weapon still clenched in his grip. His fingers tightened around it until the warped metal bit into his palm.
Hard.
A ragged breath tore from his chest.
The brand burned.
Heat surged through him, flooding his veins, crawling beneath his skin, gathering in his core like something wanting to come out.
His lips parted.
And a voice slipped free that was not entirely his own.
Low and resonant.
“Vael’thar ánnelin, élyra s?n Kareth.”
The words rang like distant bells through stone.
The golden eyes widened.
Brief shock flickered through them.
Recognition.
The presence recoiled.
Melting back into the darkness.
Vanishing as if it had never been there.
Aldric stood alone in the steaming night—
Unaware of what he had just spoken.
? ? ?
The carriage swayed gently, gliding through cold ribbons of mist high above the valleys beyond Nerathys.
She sat across from him.
Not looking at him.
Her lips were pressed into a thin line. Wings tucked close. Shoulders just a little too stiff. Arms crossed, closed off in every possible way.
She wore her shimmering golden sunburst dress, light catching in its folds.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
“Save it.”
“You’re closed off. You’re sad.”
“I’m not,” she replied at once. “I’m enjoying the view.”
He followed her gaze to the passing cliffs and drifting clouds.
Then sighed.
“…You really are going to make me do this.”
She stayed silent, staring out the window as if she hadn’t heard him.
Chin high.
Aldric was still for a heartbeat.
Then he shifted forward.
Slid off his seat.
Kneeled in front of her.
Rested his chin on his folded hands atop her knees.
Tilted his head.
Looked up at her with the most shamelessly sad, soft-eyed, wounded-puppy expression he could manage.
She tried not to look.
Failed.
Took a careful peek.
A small smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.
Their eyes met.
She lasted exactly two seconds.
Then she giggled.
“Aww, Aldric—stop,” she said, laughing softly. “I can’t be mad at you when you look this cute.”
Another giggle slipped out.
She reached out and brushed her fingers along his stubble.
“I really don’t like what happened earlier today. I don’t like it when you get this angry,” she admitted softly. “I don’t know what to expect from you then… and that scares me.”
He gave a faint smile.
Then it faded
Something serious settled over his features.
Something quiet.
“I’m sorry, Rae. I’m trying. I really am.” He swallowed. “I don’t want to make excuses… but something in me feels off since I came back. Like I’m not entirely myself.”
He exhaled slowly.
“I feel resentful. I get so easily frustrated and angry. Like I’m constantly fighting something inside me.”
Her eyes softened.
She cupped his cheek gently, thumb brushing along his jaw.
“I know. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I… I don’t know Rae. I know that you’re with me, I just feel lost i all of this.”
She leaned down and pressed her forehead to his.
“That’s why we’re going to the oracles. They’ll help,” she promised. “But first… we have to find the right one.”
Aldric leaned closer.
Slowly.
Carefully.
As if afraid the moment might shatter if he moved too fast.
A soft sparkle lit her eyes.
Her lips curved into a knowing smile just before she met him halfway.
Their mouths brushed.
Once.
Twice.
Then properly.
Soft at first.
Warm.