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Chapter 9 - Chapter 9 - Garrick's Past:part ll

[The Capital]

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The streets were empty, blanketed in ash. What once gleamed with marble and gold was now gray and silent. Garrick and Lucan walked through the lifeless capital, their boots crunching over what felt like the remnants of prayer and fear.

When they reached the Caelis Valemont estate, Lucan's heart nearly stopped. The holy wards still shimmered weakly, cracked but holding. The gates stood open, and the faint glow of magic lingered inside.

"Lyra! Lucien! Revan! Althea!" Lucan's voice broke as he ran through the courtyard.

The front door burst open. His wife appeared, eyes red from crying, clutching their youngest daughter — Lyra. Behind her, two boys stood guard at the staircase: the older with a steady grip on his staff, the younger clinging to a sword far too heavy for his hands.

"Father!" Lucien's voice rang clear as he rushed forward.

Lucan caught him in a fierce embrace. "You protected them… Stars bless you, my son."

Revan followed, his face scrunched with both relief and pride. "I fought too, Father! I hit one of those monsters— it almost fell!"

Lucan smiled, breathless, resting a hand on his younger son's head. "I'm sure you did, brave one."

Behind him, Garrick stood by the doorway, silent. The warmth of the scene stirred something deep within him — a quiet longing he could not name. His thoughts drifted briefly to his own wife, Seren, and their son, Rowen.

Then, Garrick stepped through the door quietly, scanning the room with a knight's instinct. "The wards held well," he murmured. "Your holy enchantments did their work."

Lucan nodded faintly, finally allowing himself a breath of peace. "For once… it seems we were lucky."

But his wife's voice trembled. "Lucky? Lucan, the sky hasn't cleared in two days. The Ebonveil isn't fading — it's spreading."

Lucan's expression darkened, but before he could reply, a small hand tugged at his cloak.

Lyra stood there, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Papa… the bad sky made the lights cry."

He knelt, brushing ash from her hair. "Don't worry, little one. The Saints will drive it away soon."

Lucien stood behind them, silent but watchful. Revan, noticing where their father's attention lingered, crossed his arms with a pout.

"She's not scared," he muttered. "She's just pretending so you'll carry her again."

"Revan," Lucien warned softly. "Enough."

Revan huffed and turned away. "Whatever."

Lucan only chuckled faintly. "He's got your stubbornness," Garrick remarked.

"And your bad temper," Lucan shot back with a grin.

For a fleeting moment, the laughter felt real again — fragile, but real.

Then, as Lyra reached toward the flickering barrier, a faint spark danced from her fingertips. The light responded — glowing brighter, bending toward her hand like a living flame.

Lucan froze. "Wait… she—"

Lyra giggled. "It tickles!"

"She's channeling mana—without Incantation," Lucan whispered. "No staff, no catalyst…"

He looked at Garrick, eyes wide. "She's doing it instinctively."

Garrick frowned. "That's… unheard of."

Lucan's wife stepped forward, fear flashing in her eyes. "What does that mean? Is she cursed—?"

"No." Lucan smiled softly, shaking his head. "She's gifted."

He looked down at Lyra — tiny, curious, innocent — and for the first time since the Ebonveil appeared, hope stirred in his chest.

"Maybe," he murmured, "the Saints sent us a light of our own."

---

[Later – That Same Night]

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The Valemont manor was quiet again. The children had fallen asleep, and the faint hum of the wards echoed through the halls like a heartbeat.

Lucan stood by the window, watching the Ebonveil ripple across the sky. It no longer looked distant — it pulsed, closer now, crawling toward the horizon like a living shadow. The Veylith that follows still hovers in the sky.

"They're abnormal," Garrick said behind him, his tone low. "Even your wards won't hold if this continues."

Lucan turned, weary but resolute. "Then we find out what's causing it. If the Saints' light can't repels it… perhaps something far darker is at play."

He glanced toward his family — sleeping peacefully despite the growing dread. "But first, I want to make sure they're safe."

Garrick crossed his arms. "You already did. You've strengthened your home."

Lucan hesitated. "What I meant is... I should do the same to your family... You think the veil's reached your lands?"

"My estate's further north, near the temple ridge," Garrick replied quietly. "If the Ebonveil spreads from the mountains, My State will be the first in its path."

Lucan's eyes softened. "Then we leave at dawn."

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[The Next Day – The Road to Garrick's Estate]

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The wind was unnaturally still. Trees bowed under an unseen weight, their branches coated in faint black dust. The further they traveled, the heavier the air became.

By midday, even their holy auras flickered faintly under the oppressive gloom.

"This is wrong," Lucan muttered. "The Ebonveil shouldn't linger this far inland."

Garrick's hand tightened around his sword hilt. "It's not just lingering… it's feeding."

When they reached the outskirts of his land, Garrick slowed. His estate stood eerily still — the manor's once-white walls stained gray, the gardens wilted. No laughter, no servants, no sound.

Lucan frowned. "The wards here are gone."

"They were tied to Seren's sigils," Garrick murmured, dismounting quickly. "She would've reactivated them if—"

He didn't finish.

The front gate creaked open. Inside, the halls were cold. The scent of ash and something far fouler lingered in the air.

Two servants — pale, trembling — stumbled toward them.

"Lord Valemont…" one whispered, voice breaking. "You shouldn't be here—"

"Where's my family?" Garrick demanded.

"In… in the west wing, my lord. But…"

The maid's eyes filled with tears. "Please don't—"

He didn't wait. Garrick sprinted down the corridor, Lucan close behind. The sound of his boots against marble echoed through the silence, faster, harder—until he stopped before a familiar door.

"Seren!" he shouted, slamming it open.

The room was empty.

Only a shattered window greeted him, the curtains whipping faintly in the unnatural wind. Garrick's pulse thundered. He ran to the balcony—

And froze.

Below, in the garden that once bloomed with white lilies, two figures lay crumpled in the grass. Seren's arms were wrapped protectively around their son, Rowen — both still, both pale.

The boy's eyes were gone, replaced by dark, weeping hollows — the mark of a Veylith curse.

"...No."

The word tore from Garrick's throat like a broken prayer. He leapt from the balcony, landing beside them, his knees sinking into the blood-soaked soil.

Lucan reached him seconds later — but the sight rooted him in place.

"Seren… Rowen…" Garrick whispered, his voice trembling. "Please—please wake up…"

His holy aura flickered violently, surging with grief. Light and shadow clashed in his veins as he pulled them close — his wife's cold hand in his, his son's head resting against his chest.

"Garrick," Lucan said softly, stepping closer. "They're gone…"

"Don't." Garrick's voice broke, but his eyes blazed. "Don't say that. Not yet. Not until I—"

The ground shook.

A faint, echoing cry filled the garden — the sound of something slithering in the fog. From the edge of the courtyard, a Veylith emerged — tall, skeletal, its eyes glowing with twisted light.

Lucan raised his staff. "Garrick—!"

But Garrick was already moving.

His sword flared gold turned into light, brighter than ever before — a storm of holy fire erupting around him as he charged. The creature shrieked, claws rending the air, but Garrick struck first, cleaving through it in a single, blinding arc.

Ash scattered to the wind.

When it was over, Garrick stood motionless — sword buried in the ground, shoulders trembling.

Lucan approached cautiously. "Garrick…"

Garrick didn't turn. His voice was low, hollow.

"They took everything, Lucan. Everything I swore to protect."

Lucan clenched his fists. "Then we'll end this. Together."

The air stilled again, but not with peace — with resolve. Garrick lifted his blade, eyes burning with grief and fury.

---

[Back to Present]

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"That year, the Ebonveil happened. No one saw it coming. One night, the skies above the capital turned black, and a swarm of Veyliths descended—creatures that devoured everything in their path. The holy bells rang for hours before they finally went silent."

Her fingers trembled slightly as she spoke. "I was in the garden when they appeared. One of them almost reached me. That was the moment I learned I could cast magic. I tried to fight back, but my spells didn't stop them. So I ran. I hid among the hedges until the screaming stopped."

Her voice tightened. "Uncle Garrick and my father were at the heart of it. They fought through the night and days, protecting the citizens who couldn't escape. By dawn of the second day, the Veyliths vanished as suddenly as they came… but the capital was ruined and the Ebonveil still lingers."

She swallowed hard.

"Uncle came back. He was hurt—but alive. My father came home too, exhausted but smiling. Then after father knows that we are safe they go to Uncle's Home. They'd saved hundreds of lives on the way… yet for Uncle, the victory meant nothing."

Her voice wavered. "Because Aunty Seren and Rowen never made it out."

The silence that followed was unbearable. Only the wind outside dared to move.

Lyra's tone softened, almost a whisper. "After that… instead of mourning his family's death, Uncle Garrick and my father were summoned to the capital to be honored for their service. But the look in his eyes that day… it was hollow, like his world had already crumbled."

She drew in a slow breath. "Father never spoke about that night again. Not to me, not to anyone. But I remember Uncle Garrick's face when he visited after that — he smiled, but his eyes were empty."

Her fingers tightened on her cup.

"Later, Father enrolled me in the Magic Tower. That's where I learned my limitations — but also my strengths: magic theory, rune engraving, translation of ancient texts and other things."

"Two years later, Uncle visited me. He told me Father had died… and that he was sorry he couldn't protect him. He said it was all his fault."

Her voice grew faint. "Father's last words to him were to protect me. He told me to stay strong, but I think... he was the one barely holding on."

"After that," she continued softly, "Uncle left the capital. He gave up everything — the title, the land, the honors. He just… disappeared. I didn't see him again until years later."

Lyra's eyes dimmed. "He took me in after my contract at the Tower ended. Said he couldn't let me be alone. But I think… he's the one who didn't want to be alone anymore."

She glanced toward the window, her voice low. "Now we live here, in this cabin — the same place where Uncle and Father grew up."

Her hand clenched around the pendant on her chest, her voice trembling. "He lost his family. I lost my Father. Maybe that's why he keeps fighting, even when there's nothing left to fight for."

She looked up, her eyes catching the faint light of the lamp.

"And now… the sky's darkening again. Just like twelve years ago."

---End of Chapter 9---

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