The doors opened with a hollow groan.
The Throned Chamber was quiet. The gathered rulers — ancient and vast — stood in watchful silence, their gazes like suns behind veils. They had convened 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, her voice shaking but steady.
"Please… I was told to bring her to you. Her name is Isara. Her father… Naemir… is dead."
The name struck Solarin like thunder. His breath caught; his ancient calm trembled.
"…Naemir?"
One of the rulers stepped forward, his crown of storms humming with energy.
"Who is Naemir?"
The woman looked up, tears glimmering in her eyes.
"He was Elder Solarin's brother."
The chamber erupted in whispers, shock spilling like cracks through stone.
The Watcher of Worlds — with a brother? None had ever known.
Solarin lowered his head, voice low with memory.
"I thought… he had no children."
The woman shook her head.
"He had two. Isara, here… and Serenya. But Serenya… she was lost. She found a strange relic while playing. The moment she touched it… she was gone. Taken to another place. I could not follow."
A silence heavier than centuries filled the chamber.
Then, with trembling hands, she drew something from her neck — a pendant.
A small sigil of silver and gold, pulsing faintly with inner light.
"This was Naemir's gift," she whispered. "It's the only heirloom left of his house. He said it must pass to his daughters — to keep them safe."
The moment the rulers saw it, they recoiled.
The Lord of Lightning's sparks went wild.
The Sea King's expression shattered into dread.
The Warden of Ice leaned back, his gaze cold, unimpressed.
"That mark…" the Lightning Lord hissed. "It belongs to a line that should have perished."
"It is the sigil of Asharim," the Sea King murmured. "The blood we destroyed with our own hands."
Gasps rippled. Shadows twisted. Flames guttered low.
Then, cutting through the tension — laughter.
Deep, booming laughter.
The King of Beasts leaned back in his throne, a wild grin spreading across his face.
"Ha! So the old Watcher had fangs after all. An Asharim, hiding in plain sight!"
He slapped his knee, the sound echoing like thunder. "Now this meeting's finally interesting."
Kaelthys, the Warden of Ice, did not flinch. His voice was calm, disinterested.
"It changes nothing," he said. "Asharim, Valedrion, or god — Solarin is still Solarin. And none of us would be here without him."
The others exchanged uncertain glances.
Aurelia, the Aurora Sentinel, remained silent. Her radiant eyes did not waver. She simply stared at the pendant, at the child, at Solarin — and said nothing.
Elder Solarin closed his eyes, his voice heavy.
"Not destroyed," he said softly. "Hidden."
And as he cradled Isara close, the truth struck every throne in that chamber:
If Naemir carried the Asharim sigil…
then Elder Solarin — his brother — was Asharim as well.
The Watcher of Worlds was no mere observer.
He was the blood of the forgotten house they had erased.
And in his arms… their legacy lived on.
End of Chapter 5 – The Heir They Never Expected