The caravan journey lasted four long days, winding through dense forest and harsh terrain. By the time the main house came into view, the children were exhausted. But as the estate loomed—its grand banners fluttering in the breeze—something felt… off.
The house was dressed as if for celebration, but an unusual silence hung in the air. The number of servants had thinned, replaced by a noticeable increase in armed guards posted at strategic corners. Their eyes tracked every movement with quiet tension.
Once inside, the children were greeted by the family elders and led to their rooms to rest. Siora and Daran, however, were summoned by Auren. The tribal escorts were respectfully shown to the guest quarters.
Dinner was quiet. The mood hovered between relief and something harder to name—unease, perhaps. Grief unspoken. Fear unnamed.
That night, Lyra sat alone in her room, sleepless. The forest still echoed in her bones—the voice, the falls, the feeling of being called. It hadn't left her. Not really.
A soft knock broke her reverie. The door creaked open, and Auren stepped inside. He found Lyra by the window, curled in the moonlight, eyes distant.
"Lyra," he said gently. "Can't sleep?"
She turned to him slowly. Her lips trembled. Then, wordlessly, she rushed into his arms.
"Father," she whispered. Her voice carried the weight of everything they had endured.
Auren said nothing. He just held her.
The next morning, the family gathered for breakfast. It was the first calm meal in days. Laughter returned, hesitantly at first, then with more ease as warm food and safe company filled the hall.
Thalen, ever curious, couldn't hold back the question that had been tugging at him.
"Aunt Siora," he asked innocently, "you were married to him? Then… why did you two separate?"
Siora, mid-sip of tea, choked and coughed violently. Daran, seated beside her, burst out laughing.
She swatted him in the ribs. "Don't laugh, idiot."
Everyone turned to her, eyes wide with intrigue. Even Lyra leaned in, curious.
Auren chuckled, leaning back in his chair, eyes glinting with nostalgia. "Siora used to be wild," he said. "Impulsive. Fierce. Always ready to fight—within the estate or beyond. No one could tame her. One day, she was assigned to escort a noble guest. They passed through the outer woods and crossed paths with a group of tribesmen."
Siora groaned, covering her face with both hands.
Auren grinned. "Thinking they were bandits, Siora leapt into battle without hesitation. Tackled the first one she saw. That was Daran."
Laughter erupted around the table.
"She didn't even realize they were our protectors," Auren continued, wiping his eyes. "Later, she stormed into this house and declared she wanted to marry him. Everyone was stunned. Not because she wanted to marry—but because someone agreed to marry her. And then Daran walked in, like he'd been waiting for her the whole time."
Siora was red as a beet. Daran chuckled, placing an arm around her shoulders.
"She fought harder than any man I'd ever met," he said. "I knew then—if I didn't marry her, she'd probably kill me."
The table roared with laughter again. Even Lyra giggled.
But the laughter softened when Aylea spoke, her voice quiet.
"If you loved each other…" she asked, "why did you separate?"
Siora's smile faded. She stared into her cup before answering.
"Because sometimes," she said, "you have to choose between your heart and your duty. I chose to protect this family. That meant walking away from Daran."
She paused. "There are moments in life… when you make a sacrifice so someone else doesn't have to."
Silence settled over the table. Daran reached out and gently covered her hand with his.
That night, Lyra lay in bed, eyes wide open. The story wouldn't leave her. Something about it didn't feel complete.
She rose quietly, barefoot, and slipped through the dark hallways. Moonlight filtered in through narrow windows. She paused outside Siora's chambers.
A muffled sound came from within. Someone… crying.
Then Daran's voice, low and rough, came through the door.
"He gave his life to protect her," he said. "Our child didn't die. He chose to save her. So don't cry, Siora."
Lyra's breath caught.
Her heart pounded.
She pushed the door open.
Siora sat by the fire, her head in her hands. Daran stood beside her, one hand on her back.
They looked up in shock.
Lyra stepped into the room, trembling. Her voice came out in a whisper.
"You had a child…?"
Siora turned, eyes rimmed red. She nodded slowly. "Yes, Lyra. A long time ago."
The fire cracked. The silence held.
"Who was he protecting?" Lyra asked.
Daran stepped forward, his hand light on her shoulder. "You, Lyra."
Her knees gave way.
Siora caught her before she fell, holding her tightly.
"There is so much you don't know," Siora whispered, voice shaking. "But one day… I promise, you will."
Outside, the wind stirred.
And deep in the shadows of the estate, something ancient began to wake.