THE MAN NAMED AXEL KNOX

SHOW US WHO YOU ARE

The Hawthorne estate sat on a hill overlooking Bonneville. It wasn't just a house, It was a fortress. Stone walls, iron gates, and towers that had stood for over two hundred years. Axel had seen it from the highway as a kid, always wondering who lived inside. Now he knew, a father he never knew existed.

Harrison led him through the main doors. The inside were even bigger, marble floors, chandeliers, paintings of stern-faced men and women who all shared the same cold eyes.

“Your ancestors?” Axel asked.

“I wouldn't particularly call them that, we prefer to be called the Hawthornes. My bloodline but your bloodline is the one that matters tonight.” Harrison stopped in front of a large wooden door. Behind it, Axel could hear voices. Low. Serious. “They're waiting.”

“What do I say?”

“Nothing. Just show them what you can do.” Harrison opened the door.

The room was round, like the underground meeting chamber, which smelled of riches and generational wealth. It had velvet chairs, a fireplace and three people sitting in a semicircle, their faces still hidden by shadows. The same three from before, representing each family.

“Harrison,” said the cold male voice. “You brought him.”

“As promised.” Harrison stepped aside, revealing Axel.

The three figures leaned forward. Axel felt their eyes on him studying him, judging him, measuring his worth like a piece of meat.

“Approach,” said the woman.

Axel walked forward. His hands were steady but his heart was definitely not.

“Show us,” said the youngest voice.

Axel closed his eyes, reached inside himself, searching for the hum, the flame, the glow. It came easier this time. Like a muscle he had started to exercise as he channeled the blue light poured from his palms, gentle at first, then brighter. He opened his eyes. They were glowing.

“Remarkable,” the woman whispered.

“Can he control it?” asked the cold voice.

Harrison answered for him. “He's learning, faster than any vessel we've ever had.”

“He's not a vessel,” said the youngest voice. “He's a Windsor.”

Silence.

Axel's blood went cold. “What?”

The youngest figure stood up, she was a woman who was younger than the others, with dark hair and sharp features. She pulled back her hood.

“I know your mother's face, boy. You have her eyes and her magic.” She turned to Harrison. “Did you think we wouldn't notice? That we wouldn't recognize Windsor blood when we saw it?”

Harrison's face didn't change. “He's my son, the fact that his mother was a Windsor is irrelevant.”

“Irrelevant?” The cold voice laughed. “The Windsor bloodline was destroyed for a reason. Their magic is unstable and dangerous. You've brought a bomb into this holy sanctuary, Harrison.”

The three figures stood up in unison. Their eyes began to glow, red, green, gold. Each family had its own color. Its own representation of power.

“Step away from the boy,” said the woman.

Harrison didn't move. “You wanted proof that the elixir works. Here's your proof. He's stronger than any of you and he's on my side.”

“Is he?” The youngest woman looked at Axel. “Boy, do you know what your father did to your mother's family? He didn't just steal their secrets. He fed them to us one by one. He held Mariette down while we drained her blood for the first elixir.”

Axel's head snapped toward Harrison. “What?”

Harrison's jaw tightened. “That's not how it happened.”

“It's exactly how it happened,” said the cold voice. “We were there. We all took a piece of her. And she's been hunting us ever since inside our dreams, inside our magic. She's not dead but she's not fully alive either.”

Axel's hands began to shake. The blue flame sputtered and flared.

“You lied to me,” he said to Harrison. “Again.”

“I lied to protect you.” Harrison reached for him. “Axel…..”

“Don't touch me.”

The flame exploded, it wasn't coming from Axel's hands, it flowed from the walls, from the floor and from the chandelier. Blue flames burst from every surface, swallowing the room. The three founding families screamed and raised their own magic to shield themselves.

Harrison shouted something, but Axel couldn't hear him. The flame was too loud, too bright.

And in the center of the inferno, a figure walked through the flames.

Mariette walked in her eyes burning red. Her voice a chorus of ghosts.

“You took my blood,” she said, looking at the three families. “Now I take everything you have.” She raised her hand toward Axel. “Come, my son. Let's finish what they started.”