“Your father did not die of a fever, Rowan Hale. He was murdered.”
Captain Seraphina Vale's words refused to leave Rowan's mind.
He sat against the broken wall of a burning cottage, his injured sister beside him and the sounds of battle echoing through the village. Soldiers in blue armor fought the remaining monsters in the street. Magical flames illuminated the smoke, casting strange shadows across the faces of the dead.
Yet Rowan barely noticed any of it.
His father was dead. Rowan had buried him with his own hands. He remembered the cold rain, the muddy earth, and Lily crying so hard that she could barely stand.
Now this woman expected him to believe that everything he knew about that death was a lie.
“Prove it,” Rowan said.
Seraphina crouched in front of him. A thin scar ran from the corner of her mouth toward her jaw, and her dark eyes studied him with the caution of someone approaching a wounded animal.
“What?”
“You heard me. You say my father was murdered. Prove it.”
For a moment, the captain said nothing.
Then she reached beneath her armor and removed a small, folded piece of parchment.
“The report stated that your father died from a sudden fever. The village healer signed the document, and the local magistrate approved it. But three days before his death, a royal intelligence officer recorded a completely different account.”
She handed Rowan the parchment.
He unfolded it with trembling fingers.
Most of the writing had faded, but a few lines remained legible.
Subject: Elias Hale.
Identity confirmed.
Bloodline concealment remains effective.
Extraction authorized before the next lunar eclipse.
At the bottom was a symbol: a black stalk of wheat surrounded by seven crimson stars.
The same symbol that had appeared on the pendant General Varkesh carried.
Rowan stared at the name.
“Elias Hale,” he whispered.
His father had always been Elias to everyone in the village. There was nothing unusual about that.
But the words above his name made Rowan's stomach twist.
“Extraction?” he asked. “What does that mean?”
“It means someone wanted your father taken alive.”
“Then why is he dead?”
Seraphina's expression tightened.
“Because the extraction failed.”
“Who killed him?”
“I don't know.”
Rowan crumpled the parchment.
“You don't know?”
“I know that the officer who wrote this report disappeared two days later. I know that the royal archive containing his original records was destroyed. And I know that every soldier assigned to investigate your father's death was either transferred or found dead.”
She paused.
“Until tonight, I believed the last surviving member of your family had been killed as well.”
Rowan turned toward Lily.
His sister sat with her injured ankle stretched in front of her, watching them both.
“Did you know anything about this?” he asked her.
She shook her head quickly.
“No. Rowan, I swear.”
He believed her.
Lily had been thirteen when their father died. She had spent the final days of his life sitting beside his bed, holding his hand and begging him to get better.
If Elias Hale had possessed dangerous secrets, he had taken them to his grave.
Or so Rowan had thought.
“Captain,” he said, returning his attention to Seraphina, “why did you come here tonight?”
“To find you.”
“Who sent you?”
“The commander of the Royal Military Command.”
“Name.”
“General Aldric Thorne.”
Rowan narrowed his eyes.
“And does this general know about my father's murder?”
Seraphina hesitated.
That brief hesitation told him more than her answer would have.
“He knows your family was placed under protection,” she said. “He has not seen the original report.”
“Convenient.”
“I'm not asking you to trust the kingdom, Rowan. I'm asking you to understand that someone within it may be responsible for what happened to your father.”
“Then why should I go anywhere with you?”
“Because the man who killed your father now knows you're alive.”
Before Rowan could respond, an explosion shook the northern end of the village.
Seraphina rose immediately.
A soldier came running through the smoke, his helmet missing and blood streaking his forehead.
“Captain! The target has escaped!”
“Varkesh?”
“Yes, Captain. He left something behind.”
The soldier opened his hand.
A black shard lay in his palm, its surface covered in glowing red markings.
The moment Rowan saw it, the mana inside his chest stirred.
The shard pulsed.
Once.
Twice.
Then a sharp pain shot through Rowan's skull.
He gasped and clutched his head.
A voice whispered inside his mind.
Bloodline recognized.
Ancient seal detected.
Warning: foreign mana attempting connection.
Rowan stumbled.
Seraphina caught his arm.
“What is happening?”
“I don't know!”
The shard cracked.
A thin line of crimson light shot from it and struck Rowan's chest.
Lily screamed.
Rowan felt something enter him, cold and sharp, like a needle driven directly into his heart.
For an instant, the burning village disappeared.
He stood in a vast stone chamber beneath a black sky. Seven enormous pillars surrounded a circular platform, each carved with strange symbols. At the center stood a man wearing dark armor and a silver mask.
The man turned toward Rowan.
Even through the mask, Rowan felt the weight of his gaze.
“You are late,” the stranger said.
Rowan tried to speak, but no sound came from his mouth.
The masked man raised one hand.
A circle of blue fire ignited beneath Rowan's feet.
“Your father bought you time,” the stranger continued. “He did not buy you freedom.”
The chamber shook.
Cracks spread across the pillars.
“Find the place where the first harvest was buried. There, you will learn what your blood can truly do.”
The masked man stepped closer.
“And trust no one who carries the royal crest.”
A violent flash swallowed the chamber.
Rowan was thrown back into the burning village.
He fell to his knees, gasping.
The shard in the soldier's palm had turned to dust.
Seraphina stared at him.
“What did you see?”
Rowan looked up slowly.
“A man wearing a silver mask.”
The captain went pale.
“What did he say?”
Rowan remembered the final warning.
Trust no one who carries the royal crest.
He looked at the silver insignia fixed to Seraphina's armor.
For the first time, he wondered whether she had come to save him or deliver him to someone else.
“He told me to find the place where the first harvest was buried,” Rowan answered carefully.
Seraphina's expression changed.
It was only for a second, but Rowan noticed.
She recognized those words.
“What is it?” he demanded.
“Nothing.”
“Don't lie to me.”
“Rowan—”
“You came here claiming my father was murdered. You showed me a secret report. Then that thing connected itself to my magic, and now you're telling me nothing?”
He struggled to his feet.
Pain tore through his ribs, but he ignored it.
“I have spent my entire life being told that I am useless. I watched my village burn because I was too weak to protect it. Now I discover that my father may have been murdered for something he hid from me.”
His voice cracked.
“And every person who claims to know the truth keeps giving me another reason not to trust them.”
Seraphina stood motionless.
Then she removed the silver crest from her armor.
She placed it on the ground between them.
“You are right to be suspicious,” she said. “And you are right that I know more than I have told you.”
Rowan stared at her.
“What aren't you telling me?”
“The first harvest is not a place.”
She glanced toward the dark forest beyond the village.
“It's the name given to an event that happened more than two hundred years ago, when the first War Mage discovered how to absorb mana from the dead.”
Rowan felt his blood run cold.
“My power.”
“Yes.”
“Who was he?”
“The first recorded bearer of your ability was a man named Caelan Veyr. He led an army against the creatures that once ruled the northern territories. According to the official histories, he died in the final battle.”
“And according to the unofficial histories?”
Seraphina looked directly into his eyes.
“His own army killed him.”
Silence settled between them.
Rowan glanced at the dead monsters scattered across the road.
For centuries, people had fought and died over a power he had discovered only hours ago.
His ability was not merely unusual.
It was the center of a history someone had tried to erase.
“Why would his own army kill him?” Lily asked quietly.
Seraphina looked at her.
“Because the more mana he absorbed, the more powerful he became. Eventually, his soldiers began to fear that he no longer needed them. Some believed he could absorb the mana of living people, too.”
“Can I do that?” Rowan asked.
“I don't know.”
“Could I?”
The captain did not answer.
That frightened him more than anything else she had said.
A loud horn sounded from the southern road.
Seraphina turned sharply.
“Captain!” another soldier shouted. “We need to move! More creatures are approaching from the forest!”
She looked back at Rowan.
“You cannot remain here. The village is lost, and your awakening has attracted attention we cannot afford to ignore.”
“Where are you taking us?”
“To the nearest military outpost. From there, I can arrange safe passage to the capital.”
“And then?”
“If your power is what I believe it is, you will need training.”
Rowan almost laughed.
“Training? I have spent nineteen years failing to use magic. You think a few lessons will fix that?”
“No,” Seraphina replied. “I think a few lessons might keep you alive long enough to discover what you're capable of.”
He looked down at his hands.
The blue light had faded, but he could still feel the mana moving beneath his skin.
He remembered the first monster he had killed. The strength that had flooded his body. The crimson energy that had allowed him to strike Varkesh's axe aside.
And he remembered how quickly that strength had nearly destroyed him.
He needed answers.
He needed to become stronger.
Most of all, he needed to discover who had killed his father.
“Fine,” he said. “We'll go with you.”
Seraphina nodded.
“But I have conditions.”
“Name them.”
“My sister stays with me. Nobody takes her anywhere without my permission. You tell me everything you know about my father, and if I discover that you're working with the people who killed him, I'll consider you my enemy.”
The captain studied him for a long moment.
Then she extended her hand.
“Agreed.”
Rowan did not take it immediately.
Instead, he looked toward the forest.
Something moved between the trees.
A tall figure stood at the edge of the darkness, watching the village.
Unlike the other monsters, it wore no armor. Its body was covered in pale markings, and a long staff rested against one shoulder.
It raised one hand.
Even from a distance, Rowan felt the mana inside his body respond.
The stranger smiled.
Then it disappeared.
Rowan grabbed Seraphina's arm.
“Who was that?”
She followed his gaze.
When she saw the empty tree line, her expression hardened.
“Everyone, fall back! Now!”
The soldiers immediately began moving toward the southern road.
“What was it?” Rowan demanded.
Seraphina pulled Lily to her feet and helped her onto a waiting horse.
“Something that should not have been able to cross the northern boundary.”
“Captain!”
She turned to him.
For the first time since they had met, she looked genuinely afraid.
“That was not a monster, Rowan.”
“Then what was it?”
She swallowed.
“A War Mage.”
Rowan stared at her.
“But you said the last one died two hundred years ago.”
“I said the last recorded War Mage died.”
She mounted her horse and reached down to pull Rowan up behind her.
“There is a difference.”
As they rode away from the burning village, Rowan looked back one final time.
His home was gone.
His father had been murdered.
His power belonged to a history he did not understand.
And somewhere in the forest, a living War Mage had just watched him awaken.
Rowan tightened his arms around Lily as the village disappeared behind the smoke.
He had wanted nothing more than to protect his sister and live a quiet life.
Now, someone had made sure that life was impossible.
And the worst part was that Rowan was beginning to suspect his father had known this day would come.
2026-10-17 23:40:05
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