The horses stopped without a sound.
From the black carriage bearing the royal sigil of the Magic Parliament stepped a man dressed in crisp white robes, lined with deep silver. His every movement was precise—measured like law itself.
Damnatio Kira stood before the towering iron gates of the Kira branch estate. His expression remained unreadable as the gatekeepers opened the way without a word.
The marble hall was quiet as he entered. Servants vanished like shadows. Guards stiffened into statues.
He made his way past the entrance and was soon led into the long council chamber.
At the head of the room sat two figures: Lady Valyra, reclined in her chair like a lioness in silk, and beside her, my father—Lord Darius, still draped in a robe of grey and crimson, arms crossed and eyes sharp.
"Ah," Valyra purred without rising. "The prodigal priest returns."
Damnatio didn't acknowledge her tone. He walked to the center of the chamber, boots echoing faintly against the floor.
"You're late," Valyra added with a smirk. "Shouldn't you be polishing the king's boots instead of paying your forgotten cousins a visit?"
Darius shot her a glare, but said nothing. Damnatio's eyes slowly turned toward her.
"I came," he said evenly, "because silence between branches can no longer be afforded."
Valyra rolled her eyes. "Is that an invitation or a warning?"
Damnatio's gaze shifted to Darius now. "Neither. It is… a proposal."
That got Darius's attention.
Damnatio stepped closer, clasping his gloved hands behind his back. "The other noble families are already beginning to whisper. They see the fracture between us. And fractures invite hammers."
Darius's brow furrowed. "So what do you suggest? That we pretend the blood wasn't spilled? That my title was not stolen?"
"Let the crown remain where it is," Damnatio said. "For now. But come with me. To meet the king. As kin. Not as rival. We rebuild the house from within, not against it. We unify our names before the public can use our split as leverage."
Valyra let out a low, bitter laugh. "How noble. Tell me, Brother Damnatio—did the king finally grow a spine, or did he just get bored of being irrelevant in Julius's shadow?"
Damnatio didn't respond.
Instead, he held Darius's gaze.
"It's time to stop raising weapons in the dark. You have a son now, with power yet undefined. The kingdom will find out soon enough. And when they do… will he be a bastard of rebellion?"
Darius's expression hardened.
But he said nothing.
Valyra, sensing the tension, rose to her feet and slowly descended the dais. "You speak as though this family still bends to the throne," she said, circling around Damnatio like a panther. "But you forget—we don't fear the king. Not anymore."
Damnatio didn't turn to face her. "Then fear the truth. You are not forgotten. The Watchers of Magic Parliament have eyes everywhere. Sooner or later, what you raise in secret will be dragged into the court's light."
Darius finally spoke. "And if I refuse your invitation?"
Damnatio looked at him without malice. "Then I will still leave with my report. But the Council of Families will act. The family will not protect you forever, Valyra. And he certainly won't protect your son if they decide he is a threat to stability."
He let the words hang in the air like guillotine steel.
Valyra stepped back beside Darius and leaned in, whispering just loud enough for them both to hear.
"Let him go. Let him play the role of the king's hound. He'll regret returning here."
Damnatio gave a slight bow of formality. "You have until the next stars award ceremony. After that, the window closes."
He turned and exited the chamber, guards falling into step behind him.
Darius remained frozen, deep in thought. His hand rested on the armrest, fingers twitching slightly.
Valyra's voice slithered toward him again.
"You're not really considering it, are you?"
He didn't answer.
She smirked.
"After all this time… you still care what your brother thinks?"
His answer came like gravel grinding against steel.
"No. But I care what The family sees."
The fire in the hearth cracked, casting long shadows against the wall—shadows that stretched like a rift between brothers never mended.
The heavy doors of the council chamber closed behind Damnatio with a cold echo, silencing the wind that had followed him in.
Inside, the warmth returned—but it was not comfort.
Valyra turned slowly from the door, her amber eyes gleaming with a different fire now. She stepped down the last stair of the dais and approached Darius, her heels soft on the carpet, her voice low and coiled with sweetness.
"He wants to pull you back under," she whispered. "To chain you in the same palace that spat on your name."
Darius didn't respond. He stood frozen, gazing into the hearth as though it might burn away the memory of his brother's voice.
Valyra stepped close, pressing herself against his side. "Don't let him take that from you," she murmured. "You know what you were meant to be. What you could still be."
Her arms slid around his shoulders like vines, her lips grazing his cheek.
"I haven't forgotten. You were stronger than him. Smarter. You had everything—except the favor of sycophants and old men too scared to break the rules. But I see you, Darius. I've always seen you."
She reached up and pulled him into a slow, claiming kiss.
When she drew back, her breath was warm against his skin. "Don't let a fool in white robes distract you. Your son is growing stronger. And so is the dream."
Darius closed his eyes.
But he didn't push her away.
///////////////////////////////////////
Outside the estate, Damnatio's carriage rolled through the dense woods beneath a moon veiled in clouds. Inside, the atmosphere was colder than the night air.
Across from him sat a man in simpler robes—short, pale-eyed, with the quiet gait of someone used to walking behind power. Damnatio's vice and long-time watcher of the noble families: Magistrate Igran.
"He's hesitant," Damnatio said at last, gazing through the frosted glass. "Still chained to his bitterness."
Igran nodded, voice calm. "He won't bend easily."
"He won't need to," Damnatio replied. "He only needs to walk through the door. The rest will fall in place."
There was a pause. Then Igran's tone shifted.
"And if he doesn't?"
Damnatio's eyes flicked toward him.
"If he clings to his pride… if he chooses rebellion?"
The air thickened.
"Then both he and the boy must be removed," Damnatio said simply. "Before they become symbols of a splintered house."
Igran inclined his head. "Understood."
Damnatio returned his gaze to the passing trees, their shadows like claws along the road.
"There are no second thrones in this kingdom," he murmured. "Only ghosts of what could've been."
The carriage rolled on into the darkness.