They moved through the silence of the night—across rooftops, slipping through alleyways—until finally, they stood before a manor unlike any Nyx had ever seen.
Grand didn't do it justice.
Theo stepped forward, a proud glint in his eyes.
"This is my home. My father's manor—Duke Lancaster of the North."
At the manor's entrance, a man stood waiting: tall, regal, and weathered with age. The Duke himself. The moment Theo's message had arrived—that Nyx had agreed to meet—he'd ordered the entire household to prepare. Servants bustled, the halls lit with warm firelight. But the Duke? He remained outside the whole time… waiting.
As shadows moved behind the gates, he straightened—then ran.
Theo, mid-sentence in what was definitely a boast about his family, blinked as a gust of wind passed him. His father had sprinted right past him.
And then, before Nyx—
The Duke Lancaster, proud and renowned across the realm, bowed deeply.
"I welcome you to this humble home, Sir Nyx. I hope you aren't displeased," he said, head lowered, not daring to meet Nyx's gaze—still haunted by the memory of the boy who shattered a palace and silenced a king.
But instead of wrath, he was met with warmth. A smile. Gentle. Disarming. Like the sun after a storm.
"What are you doing, sir? I should be the one apologizing—showing up this late. Can't really move around in the daylight right now, given the… situation. I hope I haven't caused trouble."
That smile, calm and warm, unsettled the Duke more than fury ever could.
Still, he quickly composed himself and welcomed them inside. No opulent fanfare, no rigid noble customs. Just warmth. Humanity.
The dinner wasn't extravagant, but it didn't need to be. It was hearty. Honest. And it brought smiles to every face around the table. Even Luke and Mira—Theo's younger siblings—joined in. For one night, the grand hall of House Lancaster felt less like a political stronghold… and more like a home.
But the mood shifted once the guests had departed, leaving only the group and the Lancaster family behind.
Theo stood.
"Father, I'm leaving."
The room went still.
"I'll no longer compete in the battle of succession," he said, his voice clear. Steady.
Shock rippled across the table—especially in Luke's eyes. He had expected Theo to come back stronger than ever, especially with Nyx at his side. Not… this.
The Duke sat silently for a moment before sighing. He looked at his son—not as a noble, but as a father.
"Have you made your decision?"
"I have," Theo said. "I want to follow Nyx."
A heartbeat passed… then the Duke laughed. A low, honest laugh that slowly cracked into something else—nostalgia. Guilt. Tears formed at the edges of his eyes.
"I expected nothing less from my son."
His voice softened, gaze faraway.
"I followed Sir Rowan once. In his early days. I wanted to become his sword. I followed him through fire and steel. But—"
His eyes moved to Nyx, expression pained.
Nyx held his gaze, then gently shook his head.
"No need to worry, Duke. Karl already told me everything. I don't hold resentment."
The Duke bowed his head, eyes trembling.
"You honor me. But I still can't forgive myself… not for walking away. I hope my son can walk beside you now, where I could not."
"He already is," Nyx replied. "Theo's family to us now. If we left him behind, we'd probably regret it."
The Duke smiled, though his bow remained.
"Then, at least for tonight—rest here. All of you. It would mean a great deal."
Nyx looked at the others. No one protested.
"We're planning to pass through the City of Gold soon anyway," he said, glancing up at the night sky.
"A rest sounds good before the road."
---
As always, Nyx ended up on the roof—high above the noise, the crowd, the warmth of celebration—where silence reigned and the sky felt close enough to touch. The night stretched wide around him, quiet and vast, lit by a pale moon that had watched every moment of his journey unfold.
He let out a breath, long and tired.
"Final chapter closed, Sys," he muttered, voice barely above a whisper but heavy with meaning.
He thought back to the beginning—when he'd first arrived in this world, broken, directionless, with nothing but a system in his head and revenge buried in his heart. Back then, all he wanted was peace. A quiet life. A way to disappear. But somewhere along the road—somewhere between the battles, betrayals, and unlikely bonds—he'd found something he never expected.
He found people. A place. A reason.
He found family.
Nyx had once been just another orphan from a world that chewed him up and spat him out. Now, somehow, he'd become someone others looked to, leaned on, followed without question. And he wasn't sure when that shift happened…or if he even deserved it. He still questioned that, deep down. But the way they looked at him—the trust in their eyes—it silenced the doubt, if only for tonight.
His gaze drifted to the moon, steady and cold, and for a moment, he let the jealousy he'd buried so long ago rise again.
'I didn't know what it meant to have a family. Didn't know what a mother's warmth or a father's pride felt like. But watching them… seeing what they gave, what they lost… I wanted that. Even if just a little.'
But that envy no longer burned like it once did. It didn't twist his thoughts or cloud his judgment. It was quiet now—something understood, not resented.
He closed his eyes and let his thoughts fall where they may—on Rowan's final stand, on his mother's quiet strength, on the vow he'd made to both.
"Rest well… Father. Mother. I kept my promise."
And just like that, the weight he'd carried for so long began to lift—not vanish, not disappear—but shift, just enough for him to breathe again.
Nyx stood tall, the wind brushing past him as if urging him forward. The past was behind. The lies were gone. And whatever came next, he'd face it not as the son of a traitor, not as a name born from ashes, but as Nyx—the man who made his own fate.
"Let's start a new journey, shall we, Sys?"
A beat passed. Then, the familiar voice echoed inside him, smug as ever.
[I'm always here to accompany you, my bratty host.]
And with that final step, he left the shadows behind—not to forget, but to walk forward. One step, one breath, into the world he would write for himself.
---
A.N. And with that… the first volume of the story—The Shedding of the Past—comes to a close.
We're officially stepping into the next phase, and with it, the world will open up in ways you've yet to see.
I'm still a newbie, learning the ropes and doing my best to tell a better story with every chapter. Your feedback, support, and patience mean the world—and I genuinely hope you'll stick around and help me grow along the way.
The next volume? Let's just say… you'll see. One chapter at a time.