His footsteps echoed on the marble floors as he made his way through the Xavier mansion's corridors. The building was massive,three centuries of additions and expansions had created a labyrinth of halls and chambers, all decorated with the wealth and power accumulated over generations. Portraits of previous Xavier clan leaders stared down from the walls with painted eyes that seemed to follow him as he passed. Suits of ceremonial armor stood at attention in alcoves, their metal still bearing the scorch marks from battles long forgotten. Display cases held artifacts of flame-working artistry: sculptures of frozen fire, weapons that still glowed faintly with residual power, ancient texts bound in flame-proof materials.Malachar ignored it all, his pace steady and unhurried as he navigated toward the main entrance. Servants pressed themselves against walls as he passed, bowing slightly, their eyes carefully averted. The Black Flame Clan's reputation preceded them,better to show respec

Malachar leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes moving from Gregor to Helena to Marcus and back again. "Pack your things. Whatever you have here, whatever you need, gather it. I'm taking you with me. All three of you.""My lord?" Gregor's voice was barely a whisper, disbelieving. "I don't... what do you mean?""I mean." Malachar said patiently. "That I'm hiring you. All of you. The Black Flame Clan could use people with your skills, your experience, your dedication. Gregor, my household could benefit from a butler of your caliber. Helena, Marcus,my kitchens have been... uninspired lately. I could use cooks who actually understand flame-based cuisine preparation."He held up a hand before they could protest or question. "I'll pay fair wages,actually, I'll pay better than fair. You'll have proper quarters, proper treatment, proper respect. And..." He paused, letting this sink in. "And you'll be free to send as many letters to Asta as you want, without anyone intercepting them or

"I don't know. Anything. Everything. Where you're from. What your family likes. How you ended up here. Whatever you want to share."Another pause, this one thoughtful rather than hesitant. Then Jabber began to speak, and his words painted pictures in the darkness."I'm from the western territories." Jabber said. "Small village called Sunset Ridge,you probably haven't heard of it. Maybe three hundred people, all connected to the Sunset Clan in some way. My family... we weren't important. Not clan leaders or elite warriors or anything like that. My father was a blacksmith.”“Made tools mostly, farming equipment, horseshoes. Sometimes weapons if someone paid enough, but mostly just practical things that people actually needed."Asta listened, picturing it. A small forge, the sound of hammer on anvil, the smell of hot metal and coal smoke."My mother helped run the village healer's house." Jabber continued. "She had a small healing flame,nothing powerful, just enough to ease fevers an

He fell silent, thinking about everything he'd lost. The mansion he'd grown up in but couldn't enter. The clan name he carried but couldn't claim. The inheritance that should have been his but had been given to someone whose blood wasn't even fully Xavier."The Sacred Crystal test." Asta continued after a moment. "That was the final nail. Everyone gathered in the great hall,all the nobles, all the clan leaders, the Empress herself. And I stood there with my hand on that crystal, praying for even the tiniest spark. Just one ember, one flicker, anything to prove I wasn't completely empty.”His hands clenched into fists. "Nothing. The crystal stayed dark. Completely, absolutely dark. And the entire hall erupted in whispers. I could hear them all,'useless,' 'cursed,' 'should have died with his mother.' The Empress called me a worm. Told me to get out of her sight before I tainted the air she breathed.""That's cruel." Jabber said, anger creeping into his usually flat tone. "She had n

Inside the compartment was a metal box, dented and scratched from years of use. It had a simple lock,nothing fancy, just a basic mechanism that could be opened with the key each laborer was issued. Asta pulled his key from the pocket of his tunic where he always kept it. The metal was warm from his body heat as he fitted it into the lock and turned.Click.The box opened.Inside were three folded pieces of paper, each one sealed with different wax stamps. Asta's hands were definitely shaking now as he carefully pulled them out, holding them like they were made of glass that might shatter at any moment.The first letter had a simple brown wax seal,nothing fancy, just functional. He recognized the handwriting on the outside immediately: Gregor 's careful, precise script that came from decades of writing formal correspondence for the Xavier household.Asta's throat tightened as he broke the seal and unfolded the letter. The paper was cheap,the kind laborers could afford,but Gregor 's han