"So, this is Rowan's kid?"
A burly man stepped forward, one of the six who had been waiting for Nyx's arrival. His eyes studied the boy with a strange mix of nostalgia, guilt, and something else—maybe longing. Even he didn't seem to know for sure.
"He definitely carries the Vaelthorn blood."
He walked up to Nyx and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"I'm Gin. Your father's friend—his brother-in-arms."
Nyx froze for a second. That name—Gin. The Mad Berserker. One of the strongest men in the entire empire. A legend who once fought alongside Renald. Seeing him here, casually calling Rowan his brother… it hit harder than expected.
"He's got some interesting perks on him, Ghost,"
Another voice joined in—calm, amused. This time directed at Karl.
Nyx turned to see a man watching him with sharp, discerning eyes, as if already dissecting him down to his soul.
"I'm Silas. You might know me as the Master of the Magic Tower."
Just the name alone shook the newcomers' expectations to their core.
Nyx didn't respond—he couldn't. The Magic Tower's Master? The empire's arcane cornerstone?
Then came another figure, cloaked, but her presence couldn't hide the grace underneath. She moved forward and extended a slender hand, elegance in every motion.
"I'm Sofie. An elementalist," she said, her tone calm but firm.
Before Nyx could even process it, a voice barked from the direction of what looked like a forge.
"Save the introductions, will ya? You're scaring the kids shitless."
"That stonehead's at it again,"
Another woman said with a sigh as she floated into view, hovering lightly on a wand. Robes fluttering, eyes playful but sharp—Sylvie, the Witch herself.
"Shut it, you old hag!" the man roared from the smithy.
Then came the inevitable entrance—grimy apron, soot on his arms, and a hammer still slung across his back.
"Oii, kid. Name's Vin," he grunted. "Try not to break anything. I like my peace."
Finally, Karl stepped in with his usual quiet timing.
"Young Master, this way please."
He led the newcomers toward their rooms—no more words, just the silent weight of what had just been dropped on their heads.
---
In a quiet room, Nyx and Karl stood before the gathered warriors. The air felt heavier than before—every eye in the room fixed on him. Nyx stared at them for a moment, his thoughts drifting, the weight of what he was about to say pressing on his shoulders.
But Karl's voice brought him back.
"Young Master... is this truly the path you've chosen?"
His tone held no judgment, just uncertainty. He'd seen Nyx walk forward with a goal that seemed impossible from the start—but even now, something deep in his gut told him this wasn't the kind of path one returned from unchanged.
Nyx didn't answer right away. He only offered a faint, unreadable smile before finally breaking the silence.
"Of course not, Karl."
His voice was calm, but laced with venom.
"They played politics with us, didn't they? Staged executions. Spun lies. And turned grief into a chessboard move."
He paused, letting the bitterness settle.
"So... we'll play their game. Just better. Slower. And when the board flips—I'll make sure they remember what it means to destroy a man who lost everything."
Then, his eyes turned toward the veterans seated before him. He exhaled slowly, grounding himself. And when he opened his eyes again, they carried none of a boy's hesitation—only a man's resolve.
"Thank you all for coming on just a single call," he said. "I mean it."
"No need for thanks, kid," Gin said, arms crossed but voice gentle.
"We all owed Rowan—your father—far more than we could ever repay. If showing up is even a fraction of that debt... then we stand with you. No matter what comes."
Nyx gave a silent nod. He could see it—the guilt, the pain, the burden they still carried. Not just for Rowan, but for surviving while he didn't.
"I'm not asking you to start a rebellion," Nyx continued. "Not yet. Not directly. But I am asking for your help—for something that might matter even more. I can't reveal the details just yet. But when the time comes... I'll tell you everything."
Then, without pride or pretense, he bowed deeply.
"Thank you. Truly."
Silas was the first to respond, adjusting his robes slightly.
"Karl told us what your goal is," he said, smiling faintly. "When we first heard it... it sounded like foolishness. Naïve, even. But now—after seeing you—I believe you might actually do it."
He met Nyx's eyes, calm and unwavering.
"So don't waver, Nyx Vaelthorn. We'll lend you our strength. All of it."
Sylvia chuckled from her corner, flicking her wand lazily.
"Well, you can keep my disciple as reassurance until then. But remember this, boy—she's more than a daughter to me."
Her eyes gleamed with warning.
"If anything happens to her… you'll answer to me."
And with that, her body flickered—and vanished.
"MAAASSTERRR!" Luna screeched, face turning red from embarrassment.
But her cry went unanswered. Sylvia was already gone.
She turned her gaze toward the others—especially Nyx. The resentment in her eyes was unmistakable, sharp and simmering, like she blamed everything on his shoulders.
Nyx didn't respond. He just turned away, silent.
"Our goal remains unchanged," he said at last, voice low but unwavering. "It was always about the truth."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"But if truth won't be heard through words… then we raise our swords."
The room fell quiet at his declaration. No one argued. No one questioned.
"Until then—prepare," Nyx continued, his tone measured, almost surgical. "By any means necessary. And wait... until the stakes are clear. Until the cards are on the table."
---
Silence blanketed the manor as night fell, each person retreating to their own space—for now, at least.
Nyx sat on the rooftop, his usual place of refuge when the world felt too loud. The stars blinked above, and the capital loomed distantly below.
Samantha and Rhea arrived almost at the same time.
Rhea said nothing, just walked over and sat beside him, resting her head casually on his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. Nyx didn't react—didn't need to. He just kept staring into the night.
Samantha stood a few steps away, hesitating. Waiting.
"You're quiet tonight, Sam," Nyx said, finally acknowledging her. He didn't move, didn't shift—even with Rhea clinging to his side.
"It's all too sudden, Nyx," she replied softly, walking over before sitting down beside him. "Everything's moving too fast. It's hard to keep up."
"Do you hate me for that?"
"…No. Why would I?" she answered, then slowly leaned her head against his other shoulder.
Nyx exhaled, just faintly. "Don't worry. I'll show you a world—a place without lies. Where there's nothing left to hide from."
His eyes stayed fixed on the moon as he spoke, the promise in his voice calm and almost... sad.
'Please...' Samantha silently pleaded—but the words never made it past her lips, caught somewhere between hope and hesitation.
Rhea, still nestled against him, said nothing. But she heard it. That warmth in his tone—tinged with something else. A sense of distance. Loss. Something slipping through her fingers before she could name it.
And so the three of them sat there beneath the night sky, staring at the same moon, each caught in their own silence—as the night slowly bled into dawn.