Chapter 33 #2
She nodded slowly. “Maeriel Marren is my mother.”
“And she loved you,” he said softly. “But she was never your true mother.”
Thaelyn’s spine stiffened. She had known, somewhere deep down, that she had felt it in the gaps that Maeriel never filled. Hearing it spoken aloud still left her cold.
“She protected you,” Vaelen continued, “because your birth was marked. Because your blood would paint a target on your back even before you learned to speak.”
“And my real mother?”
“She carried you in secret to a sworn guardian, Maeriel, a former Aether acolyte. She raised you as her own, but not even Harven Marren knew who you truly were.”
Thaelyn sat in stunned silence.
His gaze met hers. “The name you’ve carried, Marren, was given for your protection.
You were not born Thaelyn Marren.” He reached into the desk drawer and pulled out a folded parchment, aged and cracked at the corners.
“This was hidden in the final vault beneath Aeromir before it fell. It bore your mother’s sigil and her final command to those who remained loyal. ”
He passed it to Thaelyn.
She opened it with trembling fingers, eyes scanning the elegant, looping script. Her breath caught as she read the closing line:
Protect the child of House Taranveil. The last living flame.
Her knees nearly gave out. “Taranveil…”
“Your name,” Vaelen said, “is not Marren. That was the shield. The truth is written in your blood. Thaelyn Taranveil, heir to a house long believed destroyed.”
Thaelyn stared down at the parchment, the letters swimming in her vision.
“They said House Taranveil was wiped out,” she whispered. “During the Rebellion. All records purged.”
“Not all,” Vaelen said, voice grave. “Only the public ones. I was tasked by Queen Elyria herself to hide what little remained. The King does not know, but the Queen knew. She suspected your existence even then.”
Thaelyn looked up sharply. “Why?”
“Because of your mother,” he said. “Elenira Taranveil was a Seer once. Like the Queen. They trained together in secret before the council severed the path of the Sight from bloodlines considered dangerous.”
“So my mother was—”
“She was powerful,” Vaelen confirmed. “Too powerful. When the council learned she had somehow awakened the part of Aether to bond or break dragons, they turned on her. She fled, cloaked by her dragon, and gave birth in the wilds. Only a handful of us knew where the child was hidden.”
Thaelyn stepped away, trying to breathe past the pressure building in her chest. Her thoughts raced, memories of strange dreams, of her mother’s worried glances, of a childhood filled with silence and stories about who she might become.
“All this time,” she said, her voice barely audible, “I thought I was no one. Just a girl who was unlucky. I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t Maeriel tell me? Why keep it secret?”
“Because of the power with the potential to call dragons and possibly even control dragons, if anyone knew a Taranveil survived, they might try to control you, or worse, use you.”
Thaelyn took a shaky step back, clutching the edge of the desk. Her vision swam with fragments of memory, Maeriel’s quiet sorrow, her warnings not to draw too much attention, her insistence that Thaelyn never show her strength unless forced.
All of it. All of it had been a shield.
“And what of my mother and the name Taranveil?” she asked.
“It is believed that she died after you were born. The Taranveil name was erased from the records. Purged along with every house that defied the Elemental Council or sought to wield Aether without permission. But some of us remembered.”
Vaelen opened the small wooden box, revealing a ring set with a stone the color of stormlight, violet swirled with silver.
“Your mother wore this,” he said. “It was passed down through the bloodline. When you touch it, the sigil will reveal itself.”
Thaelyn reached for it with trembling fingers.
The moment her skin touched the metal, a whisper of power surged through her. The ring glowed faintly, and the winged storm-crown flared to life beneath the surface of the stone.
Vaelen stepped back, reverent. “The blood remembers. Even if you do not.”
Thaelyn closed her fist around the ring and pressed it to her chest.
“So what now?” she asked.
Vaelen moved from behind the desk and came to stand beside her. His hand rested gently on her shoulder.
“You are the storm reborn. A child of fire and wind. A bearer of a name that once summoned dragons from the skies without horn or call. You are Taranveil. Your bloodline is tied to them; it calls dragons. Some would argue that you might even be able to control them. And because your blood is with Aether, you may be the key to it all.”
“What does that mean, my blood being mixed with Aether? I don’t understand.”
“Aether can mend fractures in a bond, deepen the connection between rider and dragon, or help two dragons synchronize their instincts more intensely. Some dragons carry ancestral traits hidden for centuries. Aether can bring these traits back, such as enhanced speed, heightened telepathy, elemental surges, and ancient battle instincts. If two dragons were once Prime Bonded or tied by fate, Aether can reignite the echo of that connection. This affects their riders as well, pulling them together and sharpening shared senses. Aether can create or release a prime bond. Aether can control the dragons. Aether can reach past the physical world and touch the dragon’s mind.
It can calm a berserk dragon or bring one back from a feral state if the rider has developed strong enough control.
Dragons can bend to the will of Aether. Aether can heal a dragon’s internal magic channels, something no elemental healer can do.
This is vital to their survival, and if a dragon is wounded by dark magic or Rift corruption.
You are not guaranteed all these things, but they are possible.
We will have to wait and see what you develop.
But the fact that you could is dangerous enough.
You could control it all. Because of this, you will be hunted. ”
Thaelyn clenched her fists. “Kaen.”
“Yes, but not only him. There are others, old bloodlines, lost houses, secret orders. The moment you manifested Aether, they began to move,” Vaelen said. “There’s more,” he breathed.
He opened the cabinet and withdrew a scroll wrapped in silver thread.
He undid the black silk, revealing a long scroll sealed with wax and pressed with a sigil she had never seen before, twin wings circling a storm crown.
A mark older than anything she had studied at the Asgar Training Academy. He cracked the seal.
Thaelyn leaned forward as he unrolled the parchment. The writing was elegant, unfamiliar, but Vaelen began to read it aloud, translating as he went.
“‘To those sworn to the Stormblood Oath,” he read. “‘If you are reading this, the gates of Aeromir have fallen. I place into your care my granddaughter, born of fire and wind, last of my line. My son, the prince, has perished. The child’s name is Thaelyn Taranveil. She carries the blood of House Aeromir. She will be my heir, next in line for the throne. She must be hidden, protected, and never told, until the Aether stirs again.’”
Silence fell between them.
Thaelyn sat motionless, her lips parted slightly, her breath shallow.
“What?” she whispered.
Vaelen’s voice was soft. “It means your name, your true name, is Thaelyn Taranveil Aeromir. You are not only the last heir of a noble dragon house, Taranveil, but you are also of royal blood for the Aeromir line. And probably the Queen of Aeromir.”
She shook her head slowly, as if the motion could scatter the truth.
“No. That can’t be,” she echoed. “Of the lost city?” She shook her head again. “That’s not possible. Aeromir is a myth. A tale to scare children.”
Vaelen interrupted gently. “It’s true, and your bloodline ruled it.
Aeromir is real. It was hidden behind the Veil during the Aether Rebellion.
And it vanished when your grandfather, King Caer Aeromir, sacrificed himself to unleash the final Aether storm and seal the gates. He cloaked the city from the world.”
Thaelyn’s throat constricted.
“My grandfather…” she breathed.
“Yes. The Storm King. He led the last defense when the council turned on those who wielded Aether. That makes you the last living heir to the hidden city of Aeromir.”
Thaelyn stood, the chair scraping against the stone floor. “I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t my mom, Maeriel, tell me? Why keep it secret?”
“Because there was a price on your life from the moment you were born,” Vaelen said grimly. “There are people who hunt Aether bloodlines and won’t rest until the last thread is cut. If anyone knew what you carried, they might try to control you, or worse, use you.”
Thaelyn took a shaky step back, clutching the edge of the desk. Her vision swam with fragments of memory, Maeriel’s quiet sorrow, her warnings not to draw too much attention, her insistence that Thaelyn never show her strength unless forced.
All of it, all of it had been a shield.
“And the name Taranveil?” she asked.
“It was erased from the records. Purged along with every house that defied the Elemental Council and sought to wield Aether without permission. But some of us remembered.”
Vaelen opened the small wooden box, revealing a ring set with a stone the color of stormlight, violet swirled with silver.
The metal was silver-black, etched with swirling marks that moved faintly when she looked at them too long.
At the center, a stone glowed, a deep violet shade tinged with stormlight.
“Your mother wore this,” he said. “It was passed down through the royal line. When you touch it, the sigil will reveal itself.”
Thaelyn reached for it with trembling fingers. The moment her skin touched the metal, a whisper of power surged through her. The ring glowed faintly, and the winged storm-crown flared to life beneath the surface of the stone. The ring was unlike any she’d ever seen.
Vaelen stepped back, reverent. “The blood remembers. Even if you do not.”
Thaelyn closed her fist around the ring and pressed it to her chest.
“You must prepare,” he said. “There is a war coming. One that will test more than your power. You are the bearer of a legacy they tried to erase. The storm has waited for you. And now, it begins to rise.”
She turned her face away, blinking hard.
“Does Thorne know?”
Vaelen smiled faintly. “Not yet. But he will. His fate has always been tied to yours. Two legacies. One bond, and the dragons remember what the world has forgotten.”
She stood, the ring pulsing on her finger. “There’s a prophecy, isn’t there?”
Vaelen’s lips thinned. “There is.”
“But you won’t tell me all of it.”
“Not yet,” he said. “Some truths come with a weight you are not yet ready to bear.”
She didn’t argue. Not yet.
The words settled deep in her chest like the echo of distant thunder. It felt like a name awakening. Not a word. A truth.
“You knew,” she said. “You knew before I did.” She sat back, her breath catching. Images danced in her mind: the feel of storms gathering when she was angry, the way her hands crackled with power when no element had yet claimed her, the whisper of Nyxariel in her mind.
“I suspected,” he said. “When Nyxariel chose you, I was certain.”
Thaelyn swallowed. “Why tell me now?”
“Because the Veil is thinning. Because dark things are on the verge of war, and they will come for you. You must know who you are if you hope to survive what is coming. But for now, carry your name. Let it wake. You must keep the secret. The veil that guards the city has not lifted. No one must know of its existence until the spell of the veil has failed or is lifted. Do not speak of this to anyone, not even Thorne yet.”
“You are more than a cadet now, Thaelyn,” Vaelen said. “You are Stormborn. Blood of Taranveil. Royal daughter, future Queen of the Lost City of Aeromir.”
She looked up, meeting his gaze. “I’m not ready to be a queen,” she whispered.
Vaelen replied, “Be something they never saw coming.”
And beneath her skin, she felt it, like the heartbeat of a storm still gathering. The truth of who she was. Thaelyn Taranveil Aeromir. Blood of Kings. Last of the Storm Crown. The storm was rising. The storm had a daughter again. And the world would remember her.