Chapter Thirty-Two #2
Xiathen’s expression was grave, his arms full of scrolls, weathered parchment, and one object wrapped in dark violet silk. Both Julian and Connor straightened instantly.
Xiathen bowed his head. “The Triarc has completed their research. It has taken many moons, but they’ve found what the Council never wanted Valours to remember.” He smiled wearily. “I confess I didn’t know much of what I’m about to show you. They’ve kept it secret all these years.”
Adrian tensed. “You mean the mark? The bond?”
“No,” Xiathen said softly. “I mean the first two.”
Connor’s eyes narrowed. “The first Valours.”
“Yes.” Xiathen approached the table and began unwrapping the violet cloth.
They leaned forward, then froze. Because what the cloth revealed wasn’t a book or a scroll.
Nothing made of paper. It was a stone tablet, black as obsidian, small enough to hold but heavy as fate.
It was carved with two sigils: one of the Council, and one that looked disturbingly like the mark now emblazoned on them both.
“What the hell is that?” Adrian asked.
Xiathen’s voice lowered to a reverent hush. “The Chronicle of the First Two. The only surviving record of the Valours’ origins. Hidden from the Council. Hidden from kings. Hidden from all but The Chronicler, one of the most senior members of the Council.”
Connor scoffed. “Why hide it from kings?”
Xiathen’s eyes glinted. “Because kings once died for knowing it.”
Adrian inhaled sharply. “Why?”
“Because the Council fears what the Chronicle reveals.” Xiathen laid the stone on the table. “Fear is a powerful teacher.”
Connor leaned over the tablet. “Then teach us.”
Xiathen nodded once and began. “Long before clans, before werewolves, before magic fled the open world, there were two realms. One,” he gestured toward the sigil on the left, “was the Mortal Plane. Your Earth. Young, unpredictable, vibrant.”
“And the second?” Adrian prompted.
Xiathen touched the sigil on the right. “The Veiled Realm. Home to beings of thought, magic, and timelessness. The Council was not yet a council then. Merely watchers.”
Connor snorted. “Watching what?”
Xiathen smiled sadly. “The First Two.”
Adrian’s pulse quickened. “The first Valours.”
“Yes,” Xiathen said. “But they were not only born of clans. They were not only leaders. Or only warriors.”
Connor frowned. “Then what were he?”
Xiathen turned the tablet so the firelight caught the etching of two figures. One taller, one slighter, both standing on a cliff while the world cracked open beneath him. “They were lovers.”
Silence hit like a punch.
Adrian blinked. “What?”
Connor went rigid beside him.
“The First Two,” Xiathen repeated, “were not appointed. They were not chosen by ritual. They were chosen by each other. A bond so powerful the Veil felt it. A bond that stabilised both realms. A bond that kept magic from collapsing the Mortal Plane entirely.”
Adrian felt his throat tighten. “Their connection protected the world?”
Xiathen nodded. “They held the fault lines together by their resonance. By love, not magic. But the Council feared unpredictability. They feared what they could not author.”
Connor’s eyes darkened. “So they tried to control it.”
“Yes. They studied the bond. Experimented. Sought to claim the power of the First Two without allowing the messy, uncontrollable force that created it.”
“Emotion,” Adrian said softly.
“Emotion,” Xiathen confirmed. “True resonance. Passion. Devotion. Sorrow. Loyalty.” A pause. “And rage.”
Adrian’s wolf paced under his skin. “What happened to them?” he asked.
Xiathen’s expression dimmed. “The Council demanded separation.”
Adrian’s breath hitched. “And?”
“The First Two refused.” A silence fell. “And the Veil split.”
Connor froze. “The rend.”
“The original rend,” Xiathen said. “Born not from resonance, but from the Council’s interference.
The Mortal Plane tore. The Veiled Realm bled through.
Magic erupted across your world. Forests changed overnight.
Mountains rose where plains had been. Animals mutated.
Wolves gained the ability to shift. Humans gained sight of magic. ”
“That was the origin,” Adrian whispered.
“Yes.” Xiathen lowered his gaze. “Because two people refused to let go of one another.”
Connor’s voice was low. “What happened to them?”
Xiathen closed his eyes. “They died sealing the tear.”
Adrian’s stomach dropped.
“They gave their lives,” Xiathen continued, “to bind the rend, to stabilise both realms. Their last act was a vow spoken together. A vow of protection. A vow of unity.”
“And that became the Valour mantle,” Adrian murmured.
“Yes,” Xiathen said. “But the Council twisted the story. They erased the truth. They made it seem as though Valours were guardians created by the Veil, not guardians created out of love. In every generation, the Veil seeks two souls who resonate strongly enough to stabilise magic. Two who feel with enough depth, enough fury, enough devotion, to challenge the rend.”
Adrian’s voice was barely a whisper. “Two who love.”
Xiathen nodded once. “Yes.”
Connor gasped, as though punched in the lungs.
“So when the Triarc named us,” Adrian began.
“They recognised resonance,” Xiathen said. “The bond. The symmetry.” Xiathen’s gaze sharpened. “They named you because the Veil responded to you. Both of you.”
Connor swallowed. “Are you telling me Adrian and I were chosen because—”
“Yes,” Xiathen said simply. “Because the Veil felt what you feel. It doesn’t want power misused. It is neutral, allowing all worlds to live as they should.”
Adrian felt heat bloom in his cheeks. Not embarrassment, not shame, but something deeper, terrifying, and tender. Connor looked away. His jaw tight.
“It still doesn’t explain why I’m marked or what I personally have to do with Utharia,” Adrian said. “What is my origin story? Do you have that?”
Xiathen shook his head. “The Triarc is still looking. They have no answers yet. But that unknown reason alone is not why the Council wants Adrian.”
Connor’s head snapped up. “Explain.”
Xiathen unrolled a parchment beside the tablet. Symbols swirled across the page. Familiar ones: the sigils on the anchors, the fault lines, and the mark on Adrian’s chest.
“The First Two created a resonance so powerful it nearly destroyed both planes,” Xiathen explained. “The Council fears a second union of such magnitude. They fear your bond is strong enough to break their control.”
Adrian’s breath caught. “Control of what?”
Xiathen tapped the parchment. “Of the Veil. Of magic, and of the boundary between realms. The Council is not protecting the world. They are hoarding it for power.”
“So taking Adrian,” Connor growled, “would weaken me.”
“Yes,” Xiathen said gently. “Break the bond. Break the possibility.”
“And if they take both of us,” Adrian said evenly, “they can control the bond.”
Xiathen nodded sadly. “They will twist it, use it to tear the valley open, and use you to open the Veil permanently.”
Connor snarled, low and dangerous. “Over my dead body.”
Adrian nodded. “And over mine.”
Xiathen spread the rest of the scrolls across the table. “These chronicles,” he said, “show the First Two’s journey, their powers, their mistakes, and their death.”
Adrian swallowed. “Why show them now?”
Xiathen looked at them with ancient weight. “Because you will walk the same path.”
Connor stiffened. “Like hell we will.”
“You will,” Xiathen said gently. “Because the valley has begun choosing. The anchors respond to you. The fault lines soften when you are together. The mark shares its pain between you both. But it doesn’t mean the ending will be the same.”
Adrian lifted his fingers to his chest. “We’re repeating history.”
“Yes,” Xiathen whispered. “But with one vital difference.”
Connor leaned forward. “What?”
“The First Two walked toward death.” Xiathen met their eyes. “You two walk toward the possibility of survival, armed with all you have learned and the power that has formed between you.”
A chill raced down Adrian’s spine. Connor’s eyes gleamed with a sharp, lethal light.
“Then let the Council come,” he growled. “We’ll end what they started.”
Adrian reached out, brushing Connor’s knuckles with his own. Connor stilled, then turned his hand, threading their fingers together.
Xiathen watched the gesture, emotion softening his features. “The Chronicle was lost for centuries,” he murmured. “But it resurfaced because the Veil wanted it found.”
Adrian frowned. “Why us?”
“Because the Veil remembers the First Two,” Xiathen whispered. “And it believes you may succeed where they failed, thereby restoring the balance of power.”
Connor stood, pulling Adrian up with him. “Then we won’t die,” he said. “We won’t break. And we sure as hell aren’t giving the Council what it wants.”
Xiathen rolled the scrolls slowly. “You must learn one last thing.” He held up the stone tablet. “The vow that sealed the original rend.”
“The vow?” Adrian questioned.
Xiathen placed the stone in their hands. “It’s written in an ancient script.” He intoned:
We stand together. Bound in life and death. Bound in soul. Bound against the darkness.
Adrian stared. “This is—”
“The Valour vow,” Xiathen said softly. “The original one. Spoken by the First Two.”
Connor closed his fingers over Adrian’s. “We’ll write our own,” he whispered.
Xiathen inclined his head. “Be wise. For whatever vow you speak together will shape the valley. Shape the bond. Shape the war.”
Adrian swallowed. “And shape our fate.”
“Yes,” Xiathen said. “Because love saved the world once.” He looked at Connor, then at Adrian. “And it might need to save it again.”