The Flare family estate was not built for comfort. It was built to impress.
Jagged tiers of obsidian and red jade rose from the valley floor like a fortress sculpted by fire and lineage. Phoenix carvings coiled along every archway, and flame-veined quartz flickered in lanterns that never truly dimmed. The heat didn't radiate from hearths—it bled from the stone itself, like the entire mansion was a resting ember between infernos.
Rana led Jalen through the southern gate, past silent servants and ever-watchful guards. The guest quarters were modest by clan standards—finely furnished, but distant from the main residence. Once she was sure he was settled and warded in, she turned and made her way to the central wing.
Through the ember-carved corridor. Past ancestral tapestries. Into the flame-lit chamber where her parents waited.
Her mother, Jana Flare, stood first.
She was still beautiful in a way that turned heads at every sect conference—long brown hair braided with spirit beads, eyes like warm topaz, a face untouched by time and softened only by compassion. Her presence glowed rather than burned; a slow aura curled around the early stage of the Star Realm.
Behind her stood Simon Flare—one of the family's flame-forged pillars. Broad-shouldered and lean, with the kind of strength that made a silken robe look like armor. His crimson-gold sash bore the marks of the early Moon Realm, and his hair—thick, red-gold, identical to Rana's—fell to his shoulders like an untamed flare.
He looked maybe thirty but was many centuries old.
"Are you well?" Jana asked, stepping forward and scanning her daughter for signs of strain.
"I'm fine, Mother."
Simon frowned. "Why didn't you return with your guards?"
"I… there were complications."
How could she tell him she ditched the guards just to breathe? That she couldn't stand the constant watchful eyes, the polite guards treating her like glass wrapped in flame? The three were probably still out there—scouring the wrong woods, panicked, loyal… and completely unaware she was already home, safe, and pretending nothing had happened.
Simon studied her for a moment. His gaze didn't soften, but it didn't press either. Perhaps he already knew. Perhaps he always had.
Jana smiled, teasing in that way only mothers dared. "Complications with that boy you arrived with?"
Rana choked. "What?! Mother—no!"
"You didn't introduce him," Jana mused, eyes dancing. "He's quite striking. Is he your suitor?"
"Ugh—stop. Please. No. He's just—" She almost said someone I met while bathing, but that would send entirely the wrong message. And honestly, just thinking about it was mortifying. Her cheeks flushed. "He saved me. I was ambushed. In the forest. He helped."
Simon's aura shifted instantly—no words, just raw pressure.
It burst through the walls.
Servants staggered. Birds scattered from nearby trees. Jalen, across the estate, paused mid-step.
Rana flinched. She hadn't felt that pressure since the day he shattered a mountain to protect her. It wasn't just power—it was fury, ancient and personal.
"Someone attacked you?" Simon's voice was low thunder. "In our domain?"
"I handled it," Rana said quickly. "Barely."
Simon didn't blink. "Then they die."
"Simon," Jana said softly, placing a hand on his arm, "she's safe. That's what matters."
"She wouldn't be safe if someone hadn't intervened," Simon snarled.
Rana rested a hand on his other shoulder. "I'm alright, Dad."
He stared at her for another breath. Then exhaled, slow and volcanic.
"Ridge!" he called.
A moment later, a man stepped into the room—thin as a sword, eyes like tempered steel.
Ridge. A Peak Enlightened Realm cultivator. Simon's second.
"Find out who tried to kill my daughter," Simon ordered. "I want names before dawn."
Ridge bowed once and vanished.
Jana turned back to Rana. "Will you bring him here? Your... rescuer."
"I... sure," she said, grateful for the shift in pressure. "Give me a moment."
⟡
A short while later, Rana returned with Jalen in tow.
He walked without hurry, hands at his sides, eyes drifting across the chamber like he'd already judged every corner. No bow. No flinch. He moved like someone unimpressed with power because he carried something deeper.
Simon and Jana both expected unease—at least a flicker. Most cultivators Jalen's age couldn't even maintain eye contact with a Moon Realm patriarch. But this boy strolled across the room like gravity answered to him.
Simon's gaze narrowed. Jana tilted her head in faint intrigue.
Jana smiled. "So you're the visitor my daughter brought home—causing quite the stir in the family. What should we call you, dear?"
The boy replied without hesitation. "Jalen."
Just Jalen. No family name. No flourish. Like he'd decided long ago that anything more was unnecessary.
Rana blinked. He sounded so casual. Like he wasn't standing in front of two of the most powerful cultivators in the region. Like he didn't care who they were.
Who the hell was this guy?
Jana dipped her head slightly. "Well met, Jalen. I'm Jana Flare." She gestured toward Simon. "And this is my husband, Simon."
Simon gave a single nod—measured, not warm.
"My little Rana tells us you protected her," Jana continued. "We're grateful."
"It wasn't a favor," he replied. "I was there. It made sense to act."
Simon's brow ticked up. "Many see danger and do nothing. Action deserves thanks."
Jalen simply nodded. "Junior accepts your thanks, then."
Jana smiled before offering, "You're welcome to stay longer, if needed."
"I appreciate it," Jalen replied. "But I don't want to be a burden."
"Nonsense." Jana's smile warmed. "You helped our daughter. You're welcome here as long as you wish."
Rana scowled at that. Friend? She and this boy—Jalen, now—were many things, but friends wasn't one of them.
Jana continued, tone gentle. "If it's not too forward... which clan are you from? I noticed you don't wear a badge."
"I'm not from around here," Jalen said calmly. "I'm from the Vernon Continent."
He said it easily. Truthfully. He'd expected this—interrogation masked as gratitude. It didn't bother him. Let them look.
Rana stiffened slightly. She'd heard of it. One of the weakest territories in the cultivation world. But nothing about him felt... provincial. Well—apart from his taste in clothing.
"That's a long way from home for a boy your age," Simon said. "Why here?"
"Why not?" Jalen's voice was still polite but edged. "I move where the wind shifts."
Simon met his eyes for a long moment. He projected pressure—not blatant force, but subtle probing, like tendrils of spirit sense meant to gauge his level.
They returned... nothing.
No ripple. No echo. Just silence.
Simon's fingers twitched—barely. A reflex. The kind that only surfaced when something defied logic. No one that age should be able to mask their presence so completely. Even if he had a spirit tool, it shouldn't be possible—unless this boy was at his level or higher.
That was impossible.
Jana caught the shift in her husband's posture. Her hand grazed his sleeve. Subtle restraint.
She turned back to their guest. "Anyway, Jalen... it was a pleasure meeting you. You must be tired. Rest while you can."
Jalen inclined his head. "Then this junior bids Uncle and Aunty farewell."
Simon offered a brief nod.
Jana returned his respect with a faint smile.
Rana stood stone-still beside him, unreadable.
As Jalen turned and followed Rana from the chamber, both parents watched him go.
"…He's young," Jana murmured once they were gone, "but that calm isn't."
Simon's jaw tensed. "I've seen cultivators ten times his age buckle under less."
Jana's eyes remained thoughtful. "I'll discreetly inquire into his background."
Simon didn't disagree.
Something's not right—but it isn't wrong either.
It's just… beyond.