Time/Date: Mid-Afternoon, TC1853.01.02
Location: Emberhall Estate
Raven slipped through her usual gap in the hedge, brushing dirt and leaves from the servant's clothing with movements that came naturally now. Afternoon sun stretched shadows across manicured grounds while kitchen sounds drifted from the main house. Four more days until the banquet. Four more days before everything shifted.
She'd barely taken ten steps toward the servants' entrance when a voice cut through the peaceful air like a blade.
"You! Where have you been?"
Meredith approached with that quick, aggressive stride of someone drunk on borrowed authority. Selene's personal handmaiden had always been plain-faced and sharp-eyed, her graying hair pulled back in that severe bun that seemed to draw her features into a permanent scowl. More than her appearance, though, it was that predatory gleam in her eyes that marked her as someone who took particular pleasure in enforcing her mistress's cruelties.
The woman reached out with practiced malice, fingers already curled to pinch and twist flesh in ways that would leave dark bruises hidden beneath clothing. Raven stepped aside with fluid grace, regarding Meredith with cool detachment of someone assessing an insect.
"What business is my whereabouts to a servant?" Raven asked quietly, her voice carrying just enough disdain to make Meredith's face flush crimson. "Really, it's fascinating how the Brenner household operates—even the help believes they can question their betters."
The casual dismissal hit Meredith like a physical blow. Her hand froze mid-reach, mouth opening and closing soundlessly as her brain struggled to process such unprecedented insubordination. Then rage flooded her features, transforming her plain face into something almost bestial.
"How dare you, you mudborn filth!" she spat, voice rising to an undignified shriek. "Climbing above your station, thinking you're better than honest folk who work for their bread! You're nothing but a burden on this house, a walking shame to the family name!"
Raven stood perfectly still throughout the tirade, expression one of mild academic interest. What Meredith couldn't know was that the communicator hidden in Raven's sleeve was recording every poisonous word, every revelation of how household staff truly viewed the supposed daughter of the house. Evidence that would prove useful when the time came.
"I find myself curious," Raven said, tilting her head with that same detached interest. "Does your mistress know how you speak to her daughter? The one who's supposed to be the second daughter of the Brenners?"
Meredith's response was immediate and vicious. She spat on the ground near Raven's feet, face twisted with naked contempt. "Pah! You've never been admitted to the family proper. The Brenners would never allow something like you into their sacred clan blood codex."
The words struck exactly where they were intended to cause maximum damage. In her previous life, never being admitted to any clan's blood codex had been a source of deep, festering humiliation. Even sin families maintained blood codexes, and her exclusion had made her feel fundamentally unworthy, abandoned by the very concept of belonging.
Worse still was the memory of her missed Bloodrite ceremony—something unheard of in the Eastern Empire. Every citizen, regardless of birth circumstances, underwent their ceremony at twenty-one when their bloodline crystallized. Every district maintained blood halls where these sacred rites were conducted. But in her previous life, Kael had somehow arranged for Amara to attend her ceremony at the Sacred Arena in the First District instead.
***
Mara—then a young wife of twenty-one, not a servant but still treated as one—had emerged from her rundown courtyard quarters upon hearing Kael's return, hoping to greet her husband. Instead, she found herself watching from the shadows of the entrance hall as Kael, Selene, and Amara celebrated their return from the Sacred Arena. Their faces glowed with triumph and satisfaction, voices raised in celebration that filled the grand space while she remained invisible in the doorway.
"The manifestation was extraordinary," Kael was saying, his eyes fixed on Amara with an expression that blended guilt and adoration. "When your blood touched the Bloodline Resonance Stone, there was a faint divine glow. I've never witnessed anything quite like it."
Amara approached him with perfect grace, taking his hand with practiced intimacy despite supposedly being unrelated to him. "I harbor no regrets," she said, her gaze shifting meaningfully toward little Tianlei before returning to Kael with eyes that spoke of deep understanding and sacrifice. "Not when it means so much to you, to all of us."
"I swear I'll find a way to repay what you've given me," Kael replied, voice thick with emotion he'd never shown his actual wife. "Somehow, I'll make amends for what this cost you."
Mara had stood there in her simple house dress, watching the celebration of another woman's bloodrite ceremony—the very ceremony she had been forced to miss when Novara suddenly fell violently ill on what should have been Mara's own sacred day. She had said nothing, done nothing, simply retreated to tend to little Novara, who continued to burn with fever in their cramped bedroom, telling herself the ache in her chest came only from worry for her daughter's mysterious illness.
***
How much of that divine glow was genuine, Raven wondered now, and how much merely another deception crafted by the Devourer System? It mattered little. She was curious to see if Kael would still take a criminal's daughter to the Sacred Arena in the First District when Amara's true parentage was revealed in just a few days.
While Raven fully intended to undergo her ceremony when she reached twenty-one, she would never bind herself to any clan. Most young people failed to understand that having your blood recorded in a clan codex created a permanent leash. Ancient families possessed methods to influence, even control, those whose essence had been inscribed in their records. The mutual recognition ceremony following the rite required consent from both parties—the clan and the newly-adult individual—before the Blood Codex would acknowledge the binding. But by the time most realized the true nature of these chains, escape had become impossible.
Raven would never allow anyone to hold such power over her.
Meredith reached out a second time, positioning her fingers with the expertise of someone who'd spent years perfecting the art of inflicting pain without leaving obvious marks. From bitter experience, Raven knew the woman took genuine pleasure in creating near-black bruises in places easily concealed by clothing. She flowed away from the reaching hand like water, movement so smooth it seemed almost supernatural.
"Touch me again," Raven said quietly, but her words carried an edge that made the air itself seem to still, "and I'll ensure Teacher Song hears exactly how the household staff treats the daughter of a war hero."
Raven could practically see the war between Meredith's desire for violence and her fear of consequences playing out across the woman's features. Part of Raven almost hoped she would try something—additional bruises and witnesses would only strengthen her eventual case. While she could easily neutralize this servant even in her current weakened state, revealing such capabilities would be premature. The element of surprise remained one of her few advantages.
Meredith's face cycled through several shades of red as she wrestled with frustration, clearly remembering Selene's recent instructions about treating the girl with more care. Tension stretched between them like a drawn bowstring until finally the maid's self-preservation won out over her sadistic impulses.
"Just you wait, you worthless little bitch," Meredith finally hissed under her breath, though she took a careful step backward. "Once the madam finishes dealing with you properly, I'll make certain you pay for today's insubordination."
"The madam is looking for you," she said aloud, voice now dripping with false civility that fooled no one. "She's waiting in the Rose Pavilion." With that parting shot, she gave Raven a look that promised future retribution before stalking away, spine rigid with suppressed fury.
Raven carefully returned the communicator to her soul space, using a trace of precious soul power to bend light around the device—a simple technique that rendered it effectively invisible. The magical sleight of hand required minimal energy, and another piece of evidence was now safely preserved.
***
The walk to the Rose Pavilion required nearly thirty minutes of traversing the sprawling estate that seemed designed primarily to proclaim wealth to anyone within miles. Every detail was aggressively ostentatious—gilded fountains carved with elaborate agricultural motifs, imported marble pathways inlaid with precious metals, gardens filled with flowers that cost more than most families earned in a season.
To Raven's experienced eyes, while the display certainly proclaimed "I possess vast wealth," it also revealed how little genuine class the Brenners truly commanded. Those born to real nobility felt no need to advertise their status so crudely. Authentic refinement came from within—bloodline heritage, cultural tradition, and breeding that required no external validation.
The Rose Pavilion itself stood as a monument to excess disguised as taste. White marble columns supported a domed roof painted with scenes of imperial victories, while the interior sparkled with crystal chandeliers and silk hangings that probably cost more than most estates. At the structure's heart sat an ornate tea table surrounded by cushioned chairs that represented enough wealth to buy a small manor.
Selene, Amara, and Kael were arranged around the marble table in a tableau of calculated perfection, delicate porcelain teacups positioned just so in their hands. Beautiful bite-sized pastries were artfully displayed on silver trays surrounding an elaborate flower arrangement featuring roses in every conceivable color—each bloom worth a dozen gold dragons. Crystal vases scattered throughout the setting held perfect snow lilies, their pristine petals representing dozens more gold dragons apiece.
"Mara, where have you been?" Selene's question emerged sharp and accusatory, her pale blue eyes flashing with irritation. "I sent Meredith to find you what feels like ages ago."
Amara tugged delicately at Selene's sleeve, shooting a meaningful glance toward Kael that managed to be both subtle and perfectly timed. The gesture served as an effective reminder that they needed to maintain their facade as a loving family dealing with a troubled daughter, at least while their guest remained present.
Selene caught herself smoothly, expression shifting into manufactured maternal concern like an actress slipping into a familiar role. "I was worried about you, dear. Please, come sit with us and have some tea."
This could prove perfect, Raven thought as she approached the lavishly appointed table. An opportunity to obtain a DNA sample from Selene in what would appear to be a natural, social setting. She settled into the offered chair with careful grace, eyes professionally assessing the delicate teacups and pristine table arrangements.
The tea service was undeniably exquisite—easily worth a small fortune. Raven remembered this particular set well from her previous life. Selene had treasured it above almost all her other possessions, having acquired it at a charity auction after fierce competition. It had once belonged to the late matriarch of the Celestial Lin family, and Selene had ultimately paid an entire Grade 3 spiritual crystal for the privilege of ownership.
Considering the empire's spiritual currency hierarchy—a Grade 1 crystal worth 10,000 gold dragons, a Grade 2 worth ten Grade 1 crystals, and a Grade 3 worth one hundred Grade 2 crystals—the tea set represented absolutely staggering expenditure. It remained the only time Raven had ever witnessed Edmund lose his temper with Selene over financial matters. Normally, he treated her like a delicate treasure, indulging her every whim without question.
However, using one of the teacups for a saliva sample would prove both too obvious and far too risky. Selene would immediately notice if any piece of her precious collection went missing, and the investigation that would follow could expose Raven's true intentions.
She could theoretically use her soul power to extract blood directly from Selene's body, but such a technique would require considerable energy and might prove detectable. Kael was an accomplished cultivator, and she had no reliable intelligence regarding what detection capabilities the Devourer System might grant its host.
Her knowledge of Devourer Systems came primarily from ancient myths and legends passed down through her various lifetimes. She understood they possessed the ability to influence minds and emotions, but were generally limited by their host's inherent abilities and willpower. They wielded little direct offensive power, instead creating chaos and destruction through manipulation, suggestion, and gradual corruption of their chosen vessels.
What truly puzzled her was how such a cosmic parasite had managed to establish itself on Ascara in the first place. There were supposed to be multiple layers of protection preventing lower-level planets from falling prey to these entities, safeguards built into the very fabric of reality.
Just how utterly useless is the Keeper of the Accord for this plane? Raven grumbled silently, her irritation spiking despite her outward calm.
***
Far away, in a distant realm hidden beyond the boundaries of mortal perception...
A tall figure stood motionless before an array of crystal screens displaying scenes from countless worlds across the dimensional web. His long black hair fell past broad shoulders, framing features that would have been considered extraordinarily handsome if not for ice-cold blue eyes that made him seem utterly unreachable by mortal concerns. Dressed in flowing black robes embroidered with mysterious silver runes that seemed to shift and pulse with their own inner light, he maintained perfect posture with hands clasped behind his back in unconscious authority.
Without warning, he sneezed violently.
The sound echoed through the crystalline chamber like thunder, causing several of the monitoring screens to flicker in sympathetic response.
"My Lord!" The voice carried genuine shock and concern. A hidden guardian, also clothed in black but with a long sword strapped across his back, materialized instantly beside the tall figure. "Are you experiencing illness?"
The Keeper touched his nose with one long finger, pure astonishment reflected in those ancient blue eyes. What an incredibly strange sensation, he thought, his consciousness reeling from the unfamiliar physical experience.
"What was that phenomenon?" he asked his subordinate, voice carrying the weight of millennia yet tinged with genuine curiosity.
"What phenomenon, My Lord?" the guard asked carefully, clearly confused by his master's reaction.
"That thing that just occurred within my physical form," the Keeper said, tone mixing displeasure with fascination.
"Oh, ah... a sneeze, My Lord," the guard answered with extreme caution, not daring to meet those cosmic eyes directly. He had served this lord for several centuries, fighting against dimensional invaders and helping maintain the realm's defenses against cosmic threats, but had never witnessed such a moment of apparent vulnerability.
"Sneeze?" the Keeper murmured to himself, testing the unfamiliar word. "How remarkably... organic."
"Yes, My Lord. Mortals generally begin sneezing when they develop illness or encounter allergens. Would you like me to summon the realm's healer?" the guard offered, though privately he wondered what manner of cosmic force could possibly affect someone of his master's stature.
"That will be unnecessary. Return to your duties," the Keeper commanded, already turning back toward his monitoring array.
As news of their lord's first sneeze in tens of thousands of years spread through the hidden realm, every guardian and servant began watching over him with unprecedented concern. The phenomenon became the subject of hushed conferences and worried speculation that persisted for days thereafter. The Keeper himself remained blissfully ignorant of their collective anxiety, spending his time focused on the crystal displays and searching for signs of his ancient cosmic enemies.
He had absolutely no idea that somewhere in the vast web of reality, a young girl—whom he could theoretically eliminate with less effort than swatting an insect—had just finished thinking he was completely useless at his job.
The subtle pulse of power that had reached across dimensional barriers, seeking its distant target, was immediately dismissed as routine cosmic background radiation. After all, what possible significance could one small mortal on a backward planet hold for someone of his station?
He would discover the answer to that question far sooner than his vast intellect could currently imagine.
***
Back at the Rose Pavilion, Kael attempted to bridge the obvious tension between the three women seated around the elegant table. His training in imperial politics had taught him the value of understanding all parties' motivations before entering any negotiation. He needed to comprehend Mara's ultimate objectives. What did she hope to achieve by invoking Teacher Song and the International Child Protection Act?
"So, um, Mara," he began with careful politeness, "how has life been treating you recently?"
"Terribly," Raven answered with stark honesty, not bothering to look directly at him. She made a show of lifting the teacup Amara had graciously offered, but would never actually consume anything provided by the Brenners.
In truth, she rarely consumed anything prepared by others, regardless of apparent innocence. Her accumulated lifetimes had taught her this essential survival lesson through brutal experience. Even Grandma Wang's seemingly innocent tea and porridge had been carefully tested with soul power before consumption. The habit had become so deeply ingrained that even Grandpa Coop's offerings had ended up discreetly transferred to her soul space for later disposal. Only ingredients she personally selected and prepared felt truly safe to ingest.
Kael found himself genuinely taken aback by such blunt directness. For a moment, his political training completely failed him—he simply had no framework for responding to such unvarnished honesty. Any person raised in civilized society would have offered at least polite pleasantry to maintain conversational flow.
"Mara..." Selene's voice carried that distinctive serpentine quality, low and threatening, that forced others to lean closer to catch her words. Amara sent her an imploring look that spoke of careful coordination.
"Sister dear," Amara interjected with delicate precision, "what Mother and Kael truly want to understand is—what do you want from this family?"
She could clearly see that Mara had no intention of engaging in social pleasantries or attempting to smooth over existing conflicts. Better to address the core issue directly and discover what game she was actually playing.
"Want?" Raven repeated thoughtfully, as if the concept required careful consideration.
"Yes," Kael confirmed, sending Amara a grateful look for her strategic intervention. Despite her merchant family origins, Amara consistently displayed the social instincts of someone born to nobility.
Raven experienced a brief, almost humorous impulse to announce that she wanted a sample of Selene's blood for DNA analysis, but suspected such honesty would prove counterproductive. Instead, she stroked her upper lip with a slightly bent finger while hiding the faintest trace of amusement.
"Well, beyond the basic courtesy of being treated like a human being," Raven said slowly, "I do have one question for my mother."
"Oh?" Selene regarded her with obvious caution, clearly wondering what trap might be hidden in such an innocent request.
"Yes, Mother. It concerns my father..."
"Your f-f-father?" Selene actually sputtered, composure cracking as she shot a quick, nervous glance toward Kael before attempting to regain her equilibrium. "What about your father?"
"Simply this—who was he? What was his name? Where might his family be found?" Raven fired the questions in rapid succession, watching carefully for reactions.
For a moment, Selene appeared genuinely flustered, and Kael's gaze sharpened on her with unmistakable political interest, sensing vulnerability.
"Sister, how could you possibly bring up such a painful subject?" Amara interrupted swiftly, leaning forward to pat Selene's arm in apparent comfort. Her positioning cleverly blocked Selene from Kael's probing observation while her eyes delivered a sharp warning. "You know perfectly well how much Mother suffered when he died. How can you bear to reopen such devastating wounds?"
Selene immediately fell into the expected performance, reaching for a silk handkerchief to dab delicately at her eyes. Her voice trembled with what appeared to be genuine emotion.
"Your father... what can I possibly say? He was the great love of my life."
Strangely enough, Raven sensed that Selene spoke the truth regarding this particular detail. Eyes were indeed windows to the soul, and the burning intensity in Selene's gaze when speaking of Raven's supposed father carried purity and passion too raw to be manufactured.
How fascinating, Raven thought, filing away this unexpected revelation.
Amara looked distinctly uncomfortable whenever the conversation turned toward Raven's mysterious paternity, her usual confidence wavering noticeably.
"Sister, simply drop the subject," she said with unusual sharpness. "Mother doesn't need to relive such painful memories for your curiosity."
"Easy enough for you to say, isn't it, Sister dear?" Raven replied quietly, but her words carried unmistakable weight. "You know precisely who your father is. He remains alive and well, and you know exactly where to find him. All I possess is the claim that mine supposedly died somewhere on a battlefield."
"Who told you such a thing?" Selene questioned sharply, serpentine control reasserting itself.
"You did," Raven stated simply. "I overheard you explaining to Patriarch Brenner that my father died bravely on the battlefield against the shadowbeasts during the uprising seventeen years ago."
Selene blinked rapidly, clearly struggling to recall specific details of a story invented so long ago. She had largely forgotten the exact explanation provided for Mara's existence when Edmund's father had questioned the appropriateness of marrying a woman who already had a child. Garrick Brenner hadn't been pleased about Selene joining the family with existing baggage, but learning that Mara was supposedly the offspring of a war hero had made the situation marginally more acceptable. He'd even briefly considered using Mara as a bridge to build valuable military connections, but then Amara had attracted Kael's attention, and Garrick had promptly forgotten about his step-granddaughter entirely.
"Well, yes, he did die in service," Selene admitted quietly, voice carrying that distinctive quality that compelled others to strain forward to catch her words. She couldn't risk changing her story now—not when Garrick Brenner and his wife Lady Isolde Montague still controlled this family with absolute authority. No telling how many ears might be listening to today's seemingly casual conversation. Selene was acutely aware that Isolde despised her, considering her far beneath her son's station.
That dried-up bitch should have died years ago, Selene thought viciously while maintaining her composed exterior. These people should be prostrating themselves before me. I carry celestial blood in my veins—they should be honored by my mere presence.
"Mother," Amara squeezed Selene's arm with barely concealed urgency, drawing her back from whatever dark thoughts were consuming her attention.
"Mara, surely you can see your mother is deeply upset by these memories..." Kael began diplomatically, voice carrying that formal authority learned from years of imperial training.
"So you, Imperial Heir Kael, believe it acceptable for the daughter of a fallen hero to remain ignorant of even her father's name?" Raven interrupted quietly, but her words struck like hammer blows. "That she should be unable to honor him on Heroes' Day or light a single candle for his memory at Heroes' Square?"
Kael found himself momentarily speechless, hands automatically moving to clasp behind his back in unconscious imitation of his father's authoritative posture. Each of Raven's questions was entirely legitimate—he possessed no reasonable argument against any of them.
"Clearly, your mother finds this subject distressing. Perhaps we might discuss it at a more appropriate time?"
"It's been seventeen years!" Raven declared loudly, rising from her chair with sudden passion. "How much longer must I wait? I simply want to know his name and whether any family remains!"
Kael looked desperately between Amara and Selene, feeling the political situation spiraling beyond his control. They were supposed to be managing this girl, discovering her true motivations, determining what concessions might satisfy her demands. Instead, they seemed to be making everything dramatically worse with each exchange.
Feeling the weight of Kael's increasingly concerned gaze, Amara squeezed Selene's arm again with greater urgency. "Mother," she said softly, "perhaps you should simply tell her what she wants to know."
Selene's mind went completely blank for a terrifying moment. What name had she used? What family background had she invented? Her eyes darted around the pavilion desperately until they fell upon the elaborate rose arrangement dominating the table's center. "His name was Dar... ryn," she improvised quickly, voice forcing others to lean closer to hear properly. "Darryn Rosewood. And he was... he was an orphan with no surviving family."
"Ah," Raven smiled with cold satisfaction. "So you're confirming that I am not only a martyr's daughter, but his sole surviving bloodline. Excellent... very good indeed, Ms. Lin."
She turned to face Kael directly, gaze steady and uncompromising. "So Imperial Heir Kael, heir to the ruling Xuán dynasty—what are your thoughts regarding how the only remaining bloodline of a brave warrior who sacrificed his life defending this empire is currently treated? Truly inspiring, don't you think? I'm certain my circumstances would encourage any young man to rush toward military service, knowing exactly how well his family would be protected should he fall in battle."
Kael's face drained of color as the political implications struck him with full force, his hands clenching tightly behind his back. It was precisely at this moment that Selene realized she had catastrophically underestimated this supposedly simple girl. The conversation had taken a decidedly serious turn with potential ramifications far beyond family dynamics.
Rising from her chair with fluid grace, Selene reached toward Raven in what appeared to be a gesture of maternal reconciliation.
Finally, Raven thought with grim satisfaction.
Moving with calculated precision, she knocked Selene's approaching hand just hard enough to redirect it into the crystal vase holding a perfect white lily positioned at the table's edge. The beautiful glass shattered dramatically, sending thin shards flying in all directions. Several pieces found their mark, piercing Selene's delicate hand and immediately producing the bright drops of blood Raven required.
"Mother!" Amara cried out in apparent distress, rushing toward them with practiced concern. "Mara, how could you be so careless?"
Raven immediately grabbed a clean silk napkin from the table, pressing it firmly against Selene's bleeding hand with seemingly genuine remorse. "I'm terribly sorry, Mother. Please, let me help you."
The precious blood soaked readily into the expensive silk, exactly as Raven had planned and hoped.
"After everything Mother has sacrificed for you, how could you attack her like this?" Amara continued her dramatic performance, voice carrying that distinctive lilting quality that somehow made even accusations sound melodious.
Raven clutched the blood-soaked napkin possessively in her hand, lifting her head to regard Amara with ice-cold fury that seemed to drop the temperature around them.
"Everything she has done for me?" she said quietly, each word dropping into the sudden silence like stones into still water. "You mean such kindnesses as being starved for days at a time, then becoming so desperately hungry I was forced to search through garbage bins to avoid death? And then my 'loving mother' discovering this shameful necessity and forcing me to kneel in the dead of winter for an entire day and night as punishment for my weakness?"
Her voice grew steadily colder with each revelation. "Let's not discuss the beatings, being forced into servant's labor, or having to wear discarded clothing from actual maids. This represents being good to me? If such treatment defines maternal love, then please—allow her to demonstrate equal affection toward you."
With those final, devastating words, Raven turned and walked away with measured dignity, the precious napkin clutched securely in her hand.
Behind her, Kael felt a massive headache beginning to build behind his eyes, fingers unconsciously moving to touch his signet ring for comfort. This situation had become far more complex and dangerous than anyone had anticipated.
The blood was hers. The evidence was secured.
Four more days until everything changed forever.