For the rest of the day, Aaron moved through the Pierce estate quietly, passing through forgotten halls. He polished candelabras until they gleamed, dusted mirrors in the eastern gallery, and re-shelved old tomes in the library. But no matter what task he took on, his thoughts remained in the Red Salon. One sentence echoed in his mind, left by Lord Pierce: "You will."
It felt like a riddle carved into his bones.
Kain came and went like smoke—always gone when Aaron tried to ask anything. Lord Pierce had locked himself in his study after the emissary's visit and allowed no one in. Left alone, Aaron felt pulled back toward the western wing.
That part of the mansion was colder. The walls felt tighter, and the air was heavier. He passed faded tapestries and quiet corridors until he stood once again before the blue door—one Kain had told him never to open.
It looked plain enough. Old wood painted deep blue, with brass handles shaped like serpents. But as Aaron reached out, something buzzed beneath his skin. His heartbeat moved into his fingertips.
The air felt thick. The world was holding its breath.
A voice broke the silence.
"I said, don't open that door."
Aaron turned fast.
Kain stood behind him, wearing his usual gray uniform, spotless and sharp.
"I was just—" Aaron began.
"You weren't," Kain said. "That door is sealed for a reason. It doesn't lead where you think."
Aaron's voice trembled. "What's behind it?"
"You wouldn't understand."
"Try me."
Kain stepped forward. "Do you know what a Lineborn is?"
The word stirred something deep inside Aaron.
"No..."
"They come from the old blood. Not born by chance, but shaped by forces long forgotten. The Court says they're myths. The temples call them cursed. But they're real. And when awakened, they change everything."
Aaron's voice dropped. "And you think I'm one of them?"
"I don't think," Kain said. "I know."
Silence settled between them. Aaron turned back to the blue door, but Kain raised a hand.
"If you open it, you won't just find answers. You'll find memory—memory that returns whether you want it or not."
Aaron hesitated. "Whose memory?"
But Kain had already disappeared into the shadows.
That night, the dreams returned. Stronger. Real.
Aaron saw blue flames in his hands, rising into star-lit skies. He saw masked figures chanting beneath a black sun. A woman with eyes like his stood on a tower, screaming into the wind.
The worst part: he saw the Hotveil family crest burning, then disappearing, like it had been erased from history.
He woke up gasping. His sheets were soaked. The air around him was freezing. A faint humming sound filled the silence.
It was coming from the hallway.
From the blue door.
Aaron got up, drawn to it. The door shimmered under moonlight. The hum wasn't just a sound—it felt like memory and feeling reaching out to him.
He touched the brass handle.
It was warm.
The moment his skin met the metal—
Flash.
He was no longer in the hallway.
He stood in a round room made of black stone. Strange glowing symbols floated in the air. Beneath his feet was a symbol he almost recognized, pulsing with faint blue light.
A mirror stood before him.
But it wasn't showing his reflection.
In the glass, he saw an older version of himself. Eyes glowing. Wearing a dark cloak speckled with light like stars.
The reflection spoke.
"You are the last Lineborn of the Sky Flame."
Then the light vanished.
Aaron dropped to the floor in the cold hallway, his hands burned from touching the door.
Kain appeared a moment later, looking shaken.
"You opened it," he whispered.
Aaron looked up. "What am I?"
Kain helped him up. "A mystery inside a prophecy… and a mistake."
Aaron gave a weak laugh. "That doesn't help."
"It's not supposed to," Kain said, his eyes on the door.
"Tomorrow, you tell Lord Pierce everything you saw. All of it. Do you understand?"
Aaron nodded.
And deep inside, something warm flickered. Like fire waiting to rise.