The long table was set . Candles flickered in their holders, casting warm light across polished wood. The windows were open to the evening breeze, carrying the scent of rain from the hills beyond the city.
Alaric sat at the head of the table, his wife opposite him a the foot. When Jamie walked in side by side with Elias —both parents went very still.
Then Elara smiled.
It was not the polite smile she wore for visitors. It was the smile of a woman who had watched a child she loved disappear into darkness and was now watching her emerge even if not fully.
"Jamie's joining us today," Alaric observed, leaning back in his chair. "This is... unexpected."
Elara's smile widened. "Unexpected, but not unwelcome."
"Jamie," she said warmly, turning to the girl. "We're so glad you could join us."
Jamie bowed her head. She did not speak. But at least she was there.
Alaric caught Elias's eye across the table. There was something in his expression. Gratitude, perhaps. Or relief. Elias simply nodded and guided Jamie to a seat. Jamie sat between Elias and an empty chair. She was wearing a simple dress Elara had left in her room, her indigo hair still slightly damp from the bath. Her eyes were fixed on the tablecloth.
Elias sat beside her, close enough that their shoulders almost touched.
Wilcris and Beth arrived moments later.
Beth moved through the room like she had always belonged there—which was remarkable, given that months ago she was an ordinary citizen who could only observe the Lords residence from afar. Her dress was simple, practical, her posture straight. She looked at the chandelier once, then dismissed it as uninteresting.
Wilcris, by contrast, was visibly uncomfortable.
He had dressed well—a clean tunic, polished boots. But he kept adjusting his collar, checking his sleeves, glancing at the windows as if expecting someone to tell him he was in the wrong place. He and his wife had been staying in the Keep due to Ortis wanting their daughter closer but he was still nervous around all these important people.
"Please," Elara said, gesturing to some seats on her left. "Sit."
Beth sat without hesitation. Wilcris hovered for a moment, then dropped into the seat beside her.
"You're fidgeting," Beth murmured.
"I'm not fidgeting."
"You're fidgeting."
Wilcris folded his hands on the table. Unfolded them. Folded them again. Beth's hand moved under the table. A moment later, Wilcris winced and his posture straightened, his eyes going wide.
"Sorry," he said quickly. "I'm fine. Completely fine. Wonderful evening."
Beth smiled serenely. "He's very excited to be here."
"I am very excited to be here," Wilcris echoed, still rubbing his side.
Aina entered moments later.
She moved with her usual precision—back straight, steps measured, expression unreadable. Her dark hair was pinned back, her dress immaculate. She took the seat beside Elias other side.
"Good evening," she said.
"Aina." Elara smiled at her. "How are you feeling?"
"I am well, Aunt."
But something was wrong. Elias caught it—the slight tension in her jaw, the way her eyes flickered toward Jamie and then away. She was bothered by something. He made a mental note to ask her later. He hadn't spoken to her properly in weeks. His hands had been full.
He glanced at Jamie.
Jamie was tapping her fingers on the table. A slow, irregular rhythm. She caught him looking and stopped.
Elias leaned in.
"I'm watching you," he whispered. "You're clearly looking forward to this meal. So I better not see a single morsel left on that plate. If I do, I'll make sure you continue your fast with only the aroma of the food as comfort."
Jamie's eyes narrowed. Her elbow connected with his ribs. He grunted.
The doors opened again.
Ortis Mellou entered the room like he owned it.
He wore his usual leather jacket over a light wine-colored singlet. A single symbol was printed on the fabric—something Elias didn't recognize. Below that, simple shorts. No shoes. His hair was loose, his expression easy.
In his arms, he carried two infants.
Ellaine, Elias's sister, was swaddled in pale blue, her red-blonde hair a soft halo around her face. The other—Beth's daughter, Isra—was wrapped in cream, her tiny face serene.
Ortis walked to the table as if carrying newborns was the most natural thing in the world.
Elara rose immediately. "Ortis—"
"Relax, little sister. I've got them." He gave the children back to their mothers before setting into the chair beside Alaric. Alaric's expression flickered. He rolled his eyes—just once, just slightly—before his face returned to neutrality.
Ellaine stirred, made a small sound, then settled. Isra slept on, undisturbed.
Elias watched his uncle with fresh eyes.
'Now that I think about it, why is Ortis here. He is basically a demigod. One of the most powerful beings on the continent and one of the closest to divinity. Doesn't he have anything better to do besides babysiitting?'
There had to be a reason. He had heard the maids who helped his mother deliver whisper things but they never told him when he asked and he didn't get satisfactory answers when he attempted to eavesdrop, mostly because Miss Gable caught the gossipers and scolded them for prying into what was obviously not their business. Elias filed the thought away.
'I'll find time and ask him later. Speaking of, whats up with that jacket, he's always wearing that thing, even when the weather is warm or when he was lounging around the manor. Is it really that special? Hmm, I haven't really been keeping up with curent affairs due to a certain someone...'
He glanced at Jamie. She was watching Ortis with mild interest.
The food arrived.
Servants filed in, carrying silver platters. The smells filled the room: roasted lamb with rosemary and garlic, honey-glazed carrots, potatoes crisped to gold, fresh bread still steaming from the oven. A bowl of winter greens dressed in vinegar. A pitcher of chilled cider, condensation beading on its surface. A jug of milk.
Jamie's tapping fingers stopped. Her eyes tracked the platters as they passed.
Elias hid a smile.
They ate.
Alaric carved the lamb. Elara passed the bread. The conversation was light, easy—the kind of talk that filled space without demanding anything. Beth commented on the quality of the herbs in the glaze. Wilcris, still self-conscious, managed three sentences without being pinched.
Then Elara set down her fork.
"Jamie," she said gently, "I want you to know something."
Jamie looked up from her plate.
"Alaric and I—we see you as family. You always have a place here. Whatever you need, whenever you need it, we are here for you."
Alaric nodded. "Treat us as you would treat your own parents." His voice was steady.
"We know we cannot replace what you've lost. But you are not alone."
Jamie stared at her plate for a long moment. Her hand tightened around her fork. Then she nodded.
On Elias' other side, Aina's expression did not change.
But inside, something stirred. Jamie was sitting beside Elias. Elias was leaning toward Jamie. Jamie was... Jamie was too close to her little brother. Aina's fork cut into her lamb with moreforce than necessary.
She was being irrational. She knew this. The girl had just lost her father. She was grieving. Aina was not so cold-hearted that she would begrudge comfort to someone in pain.
Or so she thought, until Elias reached out and gently wiped a smear of honey glaze from the corner of Jamie's mouth then pulled his hand back, unconcerned, and returned to his meal.
Aina's fork stopped moving, her grip tightening.
'Actually, I think I've changed my mind...'
When the plates were cleared, Elias rose to his feet.
"Sit down."
Ortis's voice was light, almost lazy. But something in it stopped Elias mid-motion.
The room went still.
Ortis leaned foward then glanced between Elara and Beth who had began to breastfeed their young.
"Now," he said, "the time has come."
Elias sat down slowly.
Beside him, Jamie was drowsy, her head dipping, her eyes half-lidded. The warmth of the meal, the fullness in her belly—it was pulling her toward sleep. She was already starting to doze. Ortis continued, his tone conversational.
"Due to the circumstances of the births, the ongoing repairs, the recuperation of the mothers—" he nodded toward Elara and Beth, "— Et Cetera et cetera, I decided to sayanything and give everyone time to recover."
He let the words settle.
"But now that time has passed. And now, I must speak to all parties involved. Especially—" his gaze moved across the table.
"—You lot."
He gestured toward Aina, Elias and Jamie.
Jamie jerked awake, blinking. Elias's brow furrowed in confusion. Aina remained deadpan as she closed her eyes slowly.
"The board is shifting," Ortis said. His voice had lost its lazy edge.
"Your generation—the three of you—will be either pawns or players. There is no middle ground. The game has already begun."
Jamie blinked again. She stared at him with open disinterest, her head heavy, her thoughts slow. She tried to stay awake. Failed. Her head dropped onto the table with a soft thunk.
Elias reached over and shook her shoulder.
She groaned.
He shook her again.
She swatted at his hand without lifting her head.
Elias sighed, but his mind was already racing. The board is shifting. Pawns or players. The game has already begun. He remembered Deus's words. His pawn. Deus had called him his pawn.
'What does this all mean?'
Ortis turned to Wilcris and Beth.
Wilcris straightened so fast he nearly knocked over his glass. Beth, beside him, was composed—but there was a tightness around her eyes, a worry she could not quite hide.
"You," Ortis said pointing at Wilcris, "What do you know about Arcane Eyes?"
'Arcane Eyes...'
Elias had read something... somewhere. In the library, perhaps. The memory was faint, half-formed.
Wilcris cleared his throat nervously.
"They're... special eyes," he said. "Special abilities. Apart from a person's Trait. My fellow hunter, Lysle—he has them. He can see things at great distances. Far beyond normal sight."
Ortis watched him for a long moment.
"Hmm, you know what they are," he said, "but you cannot put it into words. I need the children to understand what they are."
Wilcris's face reddened.
Ortis's gaze moved to his daughter.
"Aina, explain."
Aina opened her eyes. Her voice was even, measured.
"The Arcane Eyes are specialized abilities that manifest in the user's eyes. They allow the bearer to interfere with the outside world through sight."
Jamie raised her head at the word "Arcane." Her brow was furrowed. She looked at Aina, then around the table, then seemed to decide it was too much effort. Her head began to lower again.
Elias saw the milk still on the table.
There was a a cup full of it, left over from the meal. He reached for it, reaching inward, manipulating parameters—
The milk thickened. Cooled. Crystallized.
He set the small cup of snow-like ice cream in front of Jamie.
She raised her head stared at it.
Then she picked up her spoon. And sat up straight.