The main hall of Vorrath Manor looked like someone with too much money and no taste had vomited gold everywhere.
Raelan stood in the entrance, dripping blood on marble floors that probably cost more than a village. The dried meat sat heavy in his stomach. The stolen aether thrummed through his veins. Not enough. Never enough. But better than dying.
Guards lined the walls. Fifty? More? All staring at him. Hands on weapons. Waiting for the order.
At the far end, elevated on a dais of black iron and spite, sat Duke Theron Vorrath.
Raelan's father.
The man was a monster in human skin. Six-foot-five. Built like he'd been carved from granite and violence. Scars everywhere—face, arms, probably places Raelan couldn't see. Black hair streaked with grey, pulled back tight. Eyes like molten iron. His aether core—Zenith Realm, three full realms above anything Raelan could even imagine—made the air shimmer with heat.
He wore battle armor. Always. Even sitting on his throne.
Because Duke Theron Vorrath was a warlord first, a noble second, and a father never.
To his right, seated on smaller thrones, were his wives.
Three of them here. The important ones.
Lady Seraphine. First wife. Golden hair, golden eyes, golden everything. Light element user. Corona Realm. She looked at Raelan like he was a stain on her perfect world. Probably wished he'd just died quietly like they'd planned.
Lady Morgana. Second wife. Raven-black hair. Violet eyes. Curves that would make a saint reconsider his life choices. Darkness element. Pyre Realm. She was watching Raelan with... interest? Amusement? Hard to tell.
Lady Isolde. Third wife. Silver hair. Ice-blue eyes. So pale she looked like a ghost. Ice element. Pyre Realm. She wasn't looking at anyone. Just staring at nothing, face blank.
Behind them, standing in the shadows, were some of the concubines. Raelan's memories provided names.
Yuna. Red silk dress barely covering anything important. Former courtesan. Water element. Inferno Realm. She was smiling. Slightly. Like this was entertainment.
Elara. Armor even now. Former knight captain. Earth element. Inferno Realm. Arms crossed. Face neutral. But her eyes—calculating. Measuring him.
And in front of the Duke, kneeling with heads bowed, were Raelan's three legitimate half-brothers.
Caius. Twenty-six. The heir. Built like a smaller version of the Duke. Pyre Realm. Fire element. His aura practically screamed "I'm important and you're not."
Draven. Twenty-four. Lean. Pretty face. Dead eyes. Pyre Realm. Lightning element. Dangerous. Smart. The kind who smiled while stabbing you.
Lucian. Twenty. Soft. Sweating despite the room not being hot. Inferno Realm. Metal element. Weakest of the three. Probably why he overcompensated by being the cruelest.
They were reporting something. Raelan caught the end of it.
"—border skirmish with House Tempest. Fifteen casualties on their side. Eight on ours."
"Acceptable," the Duke said. His voice was gravel and distant thunder. "Continue patrols. Next."
"Father," Draven spoke. Smooth. Calm. "There's been an... incident in the eastern wing."
Oh. This should be good.
"One of the guards is dead," Draven continued. "Drained. Void consumption."
The temperature in the hall dropped.
Every eye turned to the entrance.
Where Raelan stood. Still dripping blood.
Silence.
Then the Duke's voice. Quiet. Controlled. Terrifying.
"Explain."
Not to Draven. To Raelan.
Raelan smiled. Walked forward. Slow. Steady. Every step deliberate. His bare feet left bloody prints on the pristine marble.
The guards tensed. Hands tightening on weapons.
He kept walking.
Ten feet from the dais. The same distance he'd stood three days ago during the Awakening. When the Duke had looked at him with disgust and ordered him locked away to die.
Raelan stopped.
Met his father's eyes.
"Father."
The word dropped like a stone in still water.
Seraphine made a sound. Disgust. "How dare you address—"
"Silence." The Duke didn't even look at her. Just kept staring at Raelan. "You were ordered to remain in your quarters."
"I was ordered to die quietly," Raelan said. "Decided against it."
Caius shot to his feet. "You insolent—"
"Sit." The Duke's hand moved. Barely. Just a flicker. Caius went white. Sat down so fast his ass probably bruised.
Smart boy.
The Duke stood. Slowly. The throne scraped against stone. He descended the steps. One. Two. Three. Stopped five feet from Raelan.
This close, the difference was stark. The Duke was a mountain. Raelan was a starved teenager. The Duke's aura pressed down like gravity itself. Raelan's core was a guttering candle compared to the Duke's bonfire.
Should've been intimidating.
Would've been intimidating to the original Raelan.
But Kai Morwen had spent twenty-one years being intimidated. By bosses. By coworkers. By life itself.
Fuck that.
Raelan smiled wider.
"You killed one of my men," the Duke said.
"He tried to stop me from eating. I was hungry."
"You used void aether."
"The element I was born with, yes."
"An abomination."
"Your seed, though. Strange how that works."
Someone gasped. Probably Seraphine. Raelan didn't look away from the Duke.
Caius half-rose again. "Father, let me—"
The Duke's hand shot out. Caught Caius by the throat. Lifted him off the ground. Caius choked, legs kicking.
"Did I," the Duke said, very quietly, "give you permission to speak?"
"N-no..."
The Duke dropped him. Caius crashed to the marble. Gasped. Didn't get up.
"Anyone else?" the Duke asked the room. "Anyone else want to interrupt?"
Silence.
He turned back to Raelan.
"By law, void element users should be executed."
"Then execute me."
The Duke's eyes narrowed. "You think I won't?"
"I think you can't."
"Can't?"
Raelan gestured to the hall. The guards. The wives. The brothers. "All these witnesses. All these eyes. You execute your own blood—your acknowledged fourth son—publicly, and what do the other Houses say?"
He took a step closer. Suicidal. Probably. But the Duke hadn't moved.
"House Luxor calls you weak. Calls you afraid of a sixteen-year-old boy with a forbidden element. House Tenebris wonders what else you're afraid of. House Tempest sees opportunity. House Gaian smells blood."
Another step.
"You can kill me quietly. Poison. Accident. Sickness. But you already tried starvation and that didn't work. So now you have a problem."
One more step. Close enough to feel the Duke's aura burning his skin.
"I'm alive. I'm void-touched. And I'm standing in your hall, covered in the blood of your guard, calling you Father."
Raelan's smile was a knife edge.
"What are you going to do about it?"
The silence stretched. Seconds. Five. Ten. Twenty.
Then Morgana laughed.
Soft. Dark. Delighted.
"Oh, I like him."
Seraphine shot her a venomous look. "You would."
The Duke's hand moved. Raelan saw it coming. Couldn't dodge. Too weak. Too slow.
The blow should've killed him. Should've snapped his neck. Zenith Realm strength behind it.
But it stopped.
Inches from his face.
The Duke's fist, trembling, holding back the killing blow.
"You have her eyes," the Duke said.
Liora. Raelan's mother. The maid who died giving birth.
"Lucky me," Raelan said.
"She was weak."
"She died bringing your son into the world. Show some respect."
The Duke's fist clenched tighter. "You dare—"
"I dare." Raelan met his eyes. Didn't blink. Didn't back down. "What are you going to do? Kill me? Prove me right? Or let me live and show everyone you're afraid?"
The Duke's aura spiked. The tapestries on the walls started smoking. The guards backed away. Even the wives looked nervous.
Except Morgana. She was leaning forward. Watching like this was theater.
The Duke stared at Raelan for a long, long moment.
Then he lowered his fist.
Turned his back.
Walked back to his throne.
Sat.
"You're confined to the eastern wing," he said. Voice flat. Empty. "You do not enter the main manor without summons. You do not speak to my sons. You do not exist."
"But I do exist," Raelan said. "That's the problem."
"If I see you in this hall again uninvited..." The Duke's eyes burned. "I will find a way. Politics be damned."
"Looking forward to it."
The Duke waved a hand. Dismissive. "Get out of my sight."
Raelan bowed. Mockingly shallow. Turned. Started walking back toward the entrance.
Behind him, he heard Caius's voice. Shaking with rage. "Father, you can't just—"
"Silence. This discussion is over."
"But he killed—"
"I said silence."
Raelan reached the entrance. Paused. Looked back.
The entire hall was staring at him. Guards. Wives. Brothers. All of them.
He smiled.
"See you soon, Father."
Then he left.
The corridor outside was empty. Raelan leaned against the wall. Let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.
His hands were shaking.
Not fear. Adrenaline. His whole body vibrating with it.
He'd just survived an encounter with a Zenith Realm cultivator. Survived by bluffing. By making himself politically inconvenient to kill.
It wouldn't last forever. The Duke would find a way. Quietly. Carefully.
But for now, Raelan had time.
"That was either very brave or very stupid."
He turned.
A woman stepped out of the shadows. Red silk. Amber eyes. Crimson hair spilling over bare shoulders.
Yuna. The Duke's concubine. Former courtesan.
She walked closer. Hips swaying. Predatory grace. Stopped three feet away. Close enough that he could smell her perfume. Jasmine and something darker.
"Which one?" Raelan asked.
"Both, darling. Definitely both." She circled him. Slowly. Studying him like he was a puzzle. "The Duke's bastard son. Void-touched. Supposed to be dead three days ago."
"Disappointed?"
"Intrigued." She stopped in front of him. Reached out. One finger under his chin. Tilted his face up. "You have fire in you. The old Raelan didn't. He was broken. Scared. You're..."
"Different?"
"Dangerous." She smiled. "I like dangerous."
Raelan caught her wrist. Gently. Pushed her hand away. "What do you want?"
"Want? Nothing. Yet." She stepped back. "Just wanted to see the boy who told the Duke to fuck off and lived."
"I didn't say—"
"You didn't have to. It was written all over your face." She turned. Started walking away. Paused. Looked back. "Word of advice, young master. The Duke won't kill you publicly. But your brothers? They're not as patient. Watch your back."
"Thanks for the tip."
"Oh, I'm not being nice. I'm making an investment." Her smile was wicked. "You're going to do interesting things. I want to watch."
She disappeared down the corridor. Red silk and jasmine perfume fading into shadow.
Raelan stood there for a moment. Processing.
Then his status window flickered.
[NEW TITLE ACQUIRED: FATHER'S THORN]
[REPUTATION: VORRATH FAMILY -50]
[REPUTATION: UNKNOWN ENTITIES +10]
[WARNING: HOSTILE INTENTIONS DETECTED (3)]
Great. His brothers were already planning something.
Perfect.
He started walking back toward the eastern wing. His body hurt. Everything hurt. He needed rest. Food. Time to figure out his next move.
But as he walked, he couldn't stop smiling.
He'd walked into the Duke's hall. Covered in blood. Called the man Father to his face. And walked out alive.
First victory.
Small. Barely counted. But his.
The void core in his chest pulsed. Hungry. Always hungry.
"One guard down," Raelan muttered. "A few hundred to go."
His reflection in a polished shield showed glowing purple eyes and black veins spreading up his neck.
The corruption was getting worse.
He'd need to deal with that eventually.
But for now?
He had more important things to worry about.
Like surviving long enough to destroy everyone who'd ever hurt him.
Starting with his dear brothers.
Meanwhile, in the main hall, Caius stood before his father. Fists clenched. Face red.
"You should've killed him."
The Duke didn't look up from the battle reports. "Should I have?"
"He's void-touched. Forbidden. An abomination—"
"He's my son."
"He's a bastard born of a servant!"
The Duke's eyes lifted. Slowly. "Are you questioning my judgment?"
Caius went pale. "I... no, Father. I just—"
"You just want permission to kill him."
Silence.
"You won't get it." The Duke returned to his reports. "If the bastard dies, it will be quietly. Accidentally. With no connection to this house. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Father."
"Good. Now leave. You're boring me."
Caius bowed. Left. Draven and Lucian followed.
In the shadows behind the throne, Morgana smiled.
Seraphine noticed. "You find this amusing?"
"Don't you?" Morgana stood. Stretched. "A starved bastard walks into the Duke's hall, dripping blood, and tells him to fuck off. That's not amusing to you?"
"It's disgusting."
"It's interesting." Morgana's violet eyes gleamed. "The boy has fire. Ambition. Intelligence."
"He has a forbidden element. He's dangerous."
"Exactly." Morgana's smile widened. "Dangerous is so much more entertaining than obedient."
She walked away, leaving Seraphine fuming.
In the corner, Isolde watched everything with empty eyes. Said nothing. Felt nothing.
Just existed.
Like always.
And in the training yard outside, Elara lowered her sword. She'd been practicing forms. But her mind wasn't on training.
It was on the gaunt teenager who'd walked into the Duke's hall with death in his eyes and walked out laughing.
"Interesting," she murmured.
Very interesting indeed.
[END CHAPTER 2]