The path curved upward into the hills, where jagged black walls rose like the teeth of some ancient beast. The Eryndor estate stood proud but worn, its spires cracked, its banners frayed, its gates heavy with rust. What was once a fortress of terror now seemed half-consumed by time.
The Hound led the way, his boots striking the stone with steady weight. Behind him, the children shuffled nervously, eyes darting to the claw-like gargoyles perched along the walls. Igron walked boldly, smirk never fading, while Kairo's crimson gaze swept the estate with quiet calculation.
The great doors creaked open.
Inside, the halls were vast and dim, lined with faded tapestries depicting battles of fire and thunder. In them, Lady Eryndor stood at the center — a storm given flesh, tearing armies apart with a single gesture. But the cloth was moth-eaten, the colors dull.
Whispers echoed as retainers emerged — a few old servants, soldiers long past their prime, and scattered descendants of the bloodline, none of them carrying the same weight as their mistress. Their eyes flicked to the newcomers, some in open disdain, others in quiet curiosity.
One muttered under his breath, just loud enough for the children to hear:
"So these are the strays? Hmph. This house has fallen far indeed."
The Hound's glare silenced him instantly.
At the end of the hall, the throne awaited. Lady Eryndor sat with one leg crossed over the other, her silver hair shimmering like pale fire under the torchlight. Her gaze was sharp, unwavering, filled with something far older than the room itself.
She rose slowly, every step echoing against the stone.
"Welcome," she said, her voice low and commanding, heavy with the weight of a legacy refusing to die. "This is the House of Eryndor. And from this night forward… so are you."
The children looked at one another, fear and awe tangling in their eyes. The man swallowed hard, unsure whether this was salvation or another cage.
Kairo stood tall, unreadable, crimson eyes locked on hers.
Igron smirked, muttering under his breath with a sharp edge of mockery:
"Heh… home sweet home."