Gabriella returned. Her face was grave. Before Aiden or Elliott could fill her in about the conversation with the high priest earlier, she spoke first.
"I have received information from my spies."
"...what is it?" Elliott asked. His voice was calm, but he could feel an unusually heavy sense of trepidation in the air—like this revelation was going to be something big. Something to note. Something that would shift the ground beneath their feet.
She continued, "Well. A few days ago—Cyrus conducted a dark ritual. He practices dark magic. Everyone is aware of that, though not outwardly. Even his appointed high priest is not truly a worshipper of the moon. Rather, he is a dark sorcerer. The ritual Cyrus conducted... it sought to confirm the demise of the last moon descendant—James Corvette."
A silence followed. Heavy. Unmoving.
Elliott's eyes were a little wide. His lips parted, almost disbelieving. "...so, he suspects James is alive. What did he find?"
Gabriella took a small breath, steadying herself before she revealed the answer. "He found... James is indeed alive. He did not die that night. The entity Cyrus summoned said: the moon remains in the sun's shadow. Which led Cyrus to draw the conclusion James must be in our empire. The phrasing of the entity's words, paired with the fact that Cyrus has already scoured and purged his own empire extensively for the boy, makes it undeniable. It is now confirmed—the shadows are indeed sent by Cyrus. And they are sent to hunt James. Which, judging by their appearance in our capital, could only mean one thing—he is here. In our empire. In this very capital. And if we calculate the age... he will be around twenty-one. A young man now."
While Gabriella's expression remained controlled and serious, both Aiden and Elliott's eyes widened at once. This information, coupled with what the high priest had said earlier—the speculations that had sounded like nothing more than the ramblings of a desperate old man—suddenly snapped into terrible, shocking focus.
"...oh heavens," Elliott mumbled, exhaling, his hand pressing faintly to his forehead.
Gabriella noticed their reactions instantly. Her sharp eyes narrowed; she knew something was amiss. "Do you know anything else?" she asked carefully.
Aiden answered before Elliott could. "When you were out—the high priest came. He claimed to have discovered the reason the ritual was disrupted. The moon, he said. A moon descendant. I thought it was impossible—that the moon line was extinct, and the old man was simply grasping at stories. But now..." His jaw tightened. His voice lowered. "...I'm not so sure anymore."
Now it was Gabriella's eyes that widened. She stilled, her usually composed demeanor breaking under the sheer weight of what this meant. This... was crucial.
With the information she had gathered, she had only been able to conclude that James must be somewhere in the capital. But the capital was not a small city. It sprawled like a living thing, tens of thousands of souls. Too many places to hide. Too many faces.
But this—this narrowed it down. If the high priest's words were true, and James had been present inside the temple chamber itself—then the possibilities shrank from thousands to barely a hundred. And if they calculated age into it—then even fewer.
"...we can figure out who James Corvette is," Gabriella said finally. Her voice was quiet, but the weight behind her words was unmistakable. This was no small discovery. This was a revelation that could alter the entire course of both empires' futures.
"But then—why wouldn't he come forward to us?" Aiden asked sharply. "Surely, it is obvious we can be allies. We are the only shield he has against Cyrus."
Gabriella shook her head. She answered, "Not necessarily on purpose. Think about it—every person in the ritual chamber, all of them already have established identities. Noble heirs. Organization heads. Priests. Soldiers. It is entirely possible James Corvette himself does not even know he is James Corvette. If Cyrus' suspicions are true, and the boy survived by the river that night... it is more than possible someone found him. Picked him up, thinking he was a lost infant, and raised him as their own. Gave him a new identity. He does not remember who he is. And his adoptive parents wouldn't have known, either."
A silence fell again. Heavy, contemplative.
Elliott leaned back, heaving an exhausted breath, his golden hair falling slightly into his face. His expression carried realization—but also wariness. This was a golden opportunity, yes. But one that had the potential to backfire just as easily. There were too many what-ifs. Too many shadows behind every door.
Aiden, meanwhile, broke the silence. His tone was low, grim. "It could be anyone. Even if we narrowed by age. It could be a guard, a noble, a priest, or—"
"No. Not anyone," Elliott cut him off, firm but thoughtful.
Both Aiden and Gabriella turned their eyes on him.
Elliott's gaze was faraway, almost as if he were dredging something up from memory. The high priest's words—not today's, but the ones from yesterday— resurfaced in his mind. Words he had brushed off then.
"Carlson," he said suddenly. "How old is he?"
Aiden blinked. "...Carlson?" The name seemed out of nowhere.
Before he could puzzle further, Gabriella replied, sharp and certain. "Twenty-one." Her eyes widened almost instantly as the realization hit her too.
"Midnight-blue hair, skin as pale as moonlight..." Elliott murmured. His gaze grew heavier. "The high priest said this yesterday. He described him so. This is how the Corvette heirs are spoken of in the scriptures. I brushed it off because I believed none remained..."
Aiden exhaled sharply, frustrated. "Those aren't exactly distinctive features, you know that. I have dark hair and pale skin too. A considerable portion of the capital does. It doesn't mean anything concretely."
Elliott nodded slowly. "You're right. That alone doesn't prove anything. But—I'm fairly certain I saw Carlson react to the shadow. He saw it, when most didn't. Additionally, his age... matches perfectly."
"...and the old guildmaster didn't have a wife," Gabriella added, her voice steady, but her words carrying the final piece of the puzzle.
Both Aiden and Elliott turned to her sharply.
She explained, "The previous Veyth patriarch was an eccentric man. He never married. Never had any known relationships. Two decades ago he was traveling extensively, expanding his guild, touring the world. And then he returned—with an infant. Carlson. People assumed he was the product of an affair with a foreign woman. The old man never elaborated."
The air in the chamber seemed to thicken.
Aiden went still, his fists curling at his sides. All the signs—they all pointed to Carlson.
"If it's Carlson," he said at last, his voice low, dark, "and the shadows are after him—"
He didn't need to finish.
Elliott did it for him, his voice soft but grave. "-then now that he's not within the protective periphery of the temple, he doesn't have much time. Or protection."