The doors opened with a hollow groan.
The throned chamber was quiet. Thirteen kings stood tall, their presence vast and ancient. They had gathered to speak of the Eight - children born beyond fate.
But what came through the door was not one of them.
It was a woman - breathless, rain-drenched, clutching a newborn swaddled in deep crimson silk.
She fell to her knees before Elder Solarin, voice shaking but firm.
"Please... I was told to bring her to you. Her name is Isara. Her parents... are gone."
Solarin stepped down from his place, gently taking the child into his arms. His eyes searched the infant's face, but it was his soul that stirred.
He felt it.
"And who are you?" asked the King of Storm.
"No one," she replied. "But before they passed, they said this child... is yours, Elder Solarin. Your blood. Your granddaughter."
Murmurs shook the chamber. Even the most silent kings turned to look.
"A child of Solarin?" Whispered the Angel King. "Impossible."
The woman hesitated, then pulled a pendant from her neck.
A small, ancient sigil of silver and gold, pulsing faintly with inner light.
"They left me this. It belonged to her family. They said it would lead to her older sister - Serenya."
The King of Lightning flinched.
"That symbol... no that destroyd."
The Sea King's voice was low and filled with dread.
"It belonged to the House of Asharim. A bloodline erased by our own hands"
Solarin closed his eyes.
"Not erased. Hidden"
The woman nodded.
"Serenya is still alive. And she can see the Eight."
End of Chapter 5 - The Heir They Never Explained