The wind whipped cold off the sea as Aden Vasco climbed the last hill, bundle of burnwood heavy on his shoulder. Night was falling fast, the sky already deep purple, the sun gone beyond the waves.
This far west, on the edge of nowhere, the world felt small and quiet. Just him, the surf, and the life he had built from nothing.
Eight years of peace. Eight years since he turned his back on everything.
The house sat below in the valley, warm light spilling from the windows, smoke rising thin and straight. He smiled faintly, quickening his step.
Then he opened the door.
And everything stopped.
Thirty men in black-and-silver armor filled the small room. Ghost Legion. His father's elite killers. They stood motionless, helmets under their arms, eyes fixed forward.
In the center stood Ghislain Vasco. Tall, scarred, the silver wolf on his chest catching the firelight. The captain's gray eyes locked on Aden, widening for a split second in open shock before hardening again.
The burnwood hit the floor with a thud.
"Where is my daughter?" Aden's voice was low, deadly quiet.
Ghislain took one slow step forward, palms open, voice tight with caution.
"Calm down, Aden."
That name. Spoken here. After all this time.
Something inside Aden snapped.
Aura exploded out of him like a shockwave.
Pure, raw, overwhelming.
The air turned heavy. Flames roared up the chimney. Candles bent sideways. The wooden floor creaked under the pressure.
Knights stumbled back. One dropped to a knee. The younger ones went pale, hands shaking on their swords.
Ghislain froze where he stood. Sweat broke across his forehead. His jaw clenched hard. He was Gladiator-rank, one of the strongest of the Vasco, but even he felt it, the killing intent rolling off Aden was on another level entirely. Deeper. Darker. Far beyond what it had been eight years ago.
Aden stepped forward, eyes burning.
"WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER?"
The roar shook the walls.
A small voice came from the back room.
"Daddy...?"
Sylvia stepped into the light, silver hair loose, pointed ears clear, green eyes steady on Aden even now. She held their daughter close.
Eris, only five, clung to her mother's skirt, violet eyes wide and scared, silver-dark hair messy from play.
The aura vanished in an instant.
The pressure lifted. The fire settled. The room felt normal again.
Aden exhaled, shoulders loosening as he looked at them - safe.
He turned to Ghislain, voice cold and flat.
"Get out."
Ghislain didn't argue. He gave a sharp nod, raised two fingers, and the entire Ghost Legion turned and marched out in perfect silence.
Aden followed them into the night.
The door closed softly behind him.