The manor at the capital rose like a jewel beneath the morning sun—a three-winged estate of white stone, trimmed with silver filigree and surrounded by gardens whose fountains glittered with liquid light. Beside it stretched Ryner's commercial property: a vast complex of shops and stalls, bustling with the hum of life yet holding secrets only he knew.
Alia stepped across the threshold, her eyes brimming with tears. She ran her fingers along the polished banisters, traced the edges of the marble floor, and breathed deeply.
"Ryner… I never imagined I would live in a home of our own," she whispered, voice trembling with awe and disbelief.
Ryner's lips curved faintly, a shadow of a smile. "Mother," he said softly, "this is just the beginning. Everything we build now will be ours—carefully, with patience. One step at a time."
For a moment, peace seemed to settle over the estate. The servants moved quietly, the wind whispered through the trees, and sunlight painted the halls gold.
Yet not all eyes welcomed this new dawn.
---
Far behind the celebrations, two dark shapes lingered in the shade of the outer gardens. **Chris and Carlos**, the eldest sons of Hannas's third wife, leaned against the stone railing, their gazes sharp, cruel, and filled with venom.
"They think they can rise above us?" Chris spat, jaw tight. "A boy. Just a boy. Everything he has is a house of cards."
Carlos smirked, eyes glinting. "Manor, commercial property, fortune… he cannot possibly manage all of it. Give him time, and it will crumble beneath him."
Their malice was almost tangible, a low hum of tension in the air.
Then, stepping gracefully from her crimson carriage, **Lady Maria** herself appeared. Her silk gown flowed like liquid fire, her smile delicate, but the cold arrogance in her eyes burned like steel.
The servants whispered her name reverently—and fearfully.
"Lady Maria," they murmured.
Maria's gaze swept the estate with measured disdain, lingering briefly on Alia. A past of humiliation, of servitude and torment, had been burned into her memory. And now… her former servant stood triumphant beside her son. Maria's pride could not bear the reversal.
"Oh my…" she said, voice honeyed yet dripping venom. "What a fine manor for a boy who was once called *trash.* Don't you think, Chris? Carlos?"
Chris's sneer was sharp. "It won't last long."
Carlos's chuckle was low, cruel. "Manor, commercial district, fortune… too much weight for a child. It'll all slip through his fingers soon enough."
Their words were poison, but the intent behind them was far deadlier.
---
That night, as the manor slept beneath a crescent moon, Maria gathered with her sons in the quiet of her chambers. Shadows flickered along the crimson walls, mirroring the fire in her eyes.
"Listen well," Maria whispered, each word deliberate, curling like smoke around her sons. "That money. That estate. That commercial property… they should have been ours. If Alia believes she can rise above me, she is gravely mistaken."
Her nails rapped sharply against the armrest. "We will take it all. Not for the clan—but for ourselves. Let her remember who she truly serves."
Chris leaned forward, lips twisted into a smirk. "Brother and I can pressure him. He's still a child. If he resists… well… an 'accident' in the Academy could correct that."
Carlos's grin spread, cruel and predatory. "Do we start with the money? Or do we ruin her peace first?"
Maria's smile was tight, cold as frost. "Start with the woman. Crush her happiness. Make her remember the place she belongs—beneath me."
Their laughter echoed through the high-ceilinged chamber, sharp as knives, carrying the promise of schemes and suffering.
---
But elsewhere, in the upper wing of the estate, a presence stirred.
Ryner sat cross-legged in the quiet of his chamber, eyes closed, hands resting on his knees. The soft shadows around him flickered and stretched, writhing as if alive.
He had heard *everything.*
The Obsidian Sword, resting against the wall, hummed faintly in resonance with his pulse. Temporal Darkness—woven into his very essence—allowed him to bend sound and shadow. Whispers carried to him, no matter how hidden, and every intention of those plotting against him passed into his awareness.
His eyes opened slowly. Silver light swirled within the pupils, reflecting the crescent moon above.
A smile curved his lips—cold, precise, and full of promise.
"Maria… Chris… Carlos…" he murmured, voice soft yet carrying the weight of a storm.
"So eager to take what's mine?"
His hands rose, aura trembling faintly. Shadows coiled, twisting like serpents, wrapping around the tips of his fingers and pooling at his feet.
"Then come," he whispered, low, controlled. "I will show you… what happens when you try to steal from the Crown's path."
The manor itself seemed to react. Faint tremors ran along the floor, the moonlight flickered against the walls, and the air thickened, heavy with expectation.
Outside, in the gardens, the first hint of a shadow moved. A prelude. A warning.
Those who sought to destroy, to steal, to dominate… would soon learn that the boy championed by the clan, tempered by struggle and crowned in darkness, was no longer merely fourteen years old.
He was the **Crown's shadow incarnate.**
And shadows… do not yield.