"Why is this Enclave so broken? Why does this place feel like hell? Why does everyone have to prove how strong they are and the weak just have to cower in fear?" Kael asked.
The fire crackled in the hearth as Kael sat cross-legged on the worn rug, watching his father's face flicker between shadow and light. The old man leaned forward in his chair, his voice dropping to that special tone he used when the best stories came out.
"You want to know why the world is so broken, boy?" His father's eyes gleamed. "It all started with the scentweavers."
Kael pulled his knees closer to his chest and waited.
"They were the most powerful beings in all the Enclaves," his father continued, hands gesturing in the air like he was weaving invisible threads. "They could manipulate reality itself, bend the fabric between worlds. The Kaeliths were their sworn enemies, born from shadow and rage. When those two forces collided, they didn't just fight. They tore everything apart."
"What do you mean they tore everything apart?" Kael asked.
His father adjusted himself. "They ripped through the veils separating the supernatural realms. Every world that existed in its own pocket of reality suddenly collapsed into one. The werewolves, the vampires, the witches, seers, and the Terrans who had no magic at all. All of us were thrown together because the scentweavers and Kaeliths couldn't stop their war."
"That's enough, Marcus." Kael's mother swept into the room, wiping her hands on her apron. She shot his father a sharp look before turning to Kael with a softer expression. "Those are just myths, sweetheart. Old stories people tell to explain things they don't understand."
Kael sat up straighter. "But I hear the adults talking about it all the time. Mrs. Chen mentioned the scentweavers just last week when she thought I wasn't listening."
His mother laughed, lightly dismissing what he just said. "You're hearing things out of context. There's no such thing as scentweavers or Kaeliths or any of that nonsense."
His father joined in the laughter, slapping his knee. "The boy's got quite the imagination, doesn't he?"
Heat crept up Kael's neck. They were treating him like a child, like he couldn't tell the difference between fairy tales and the hushed conversations he'd overheard dozens of times. He opened his mouth to argue but his mother was already ruffling his hair and his father was changing the subject to something mundane about tomorrow's chores.
"I'm 23. Stop treating me like a child." Kael yelled angrily and left their presence.
Later that night, lying in the darkness of his small room, Kael stared at the ceiling and let the truth settle over him like a familiar blanket.
Marcus and Elena weren't his real parents.
He'd known for years, ever since he'd accidentally found the adoption papers tucked away in the bottom drawer of their desk.
But it didn't matter.
Not really.
They'd raised him, fed him, taught him how to tie his shoes and how to throw a punch when the neighborhood kids got too rough.
They'd held him when nightmares woke him screaming and they'd celebrated every small victory like it was something miraculous.
Blood didn't make a family. Love did. And whatever else was true or false in this world, he knew they loved him.
Sleep was starting to pull him under when the sound jolted him awake.
The front door creaked open, then voices that were low, yet serious echoed in the living room below.
And it was potentially wrong for this time of night.
Kael slipped out of bed, his bare feet silent on the cold wooden floor. He crept to his bedroom door and eased it open just enough to peer through the crack.
The hallway was dark but light spilled up from downstairs. He moved to the top of the staircase and crouched behind the railing.
Two figures stood in the entryway. Even from this distance, Kael recognized them. Councilor Thorne of the vampire coven, his pale skin almost luminous in the lamplight, and Councilor Ashwood, the witch whose reputation for cruelty preceded her wherever she went. His parents stood facing them with their backs rigid with tension.
Kael's mind couldn't settle as he recognized them. They were part of the council members in the Pentagon.
That's what they called the ruling council, the five most powerful leaders from each supernatural faction. Werewolves, vampires, witches, Terrans, and seers.
They'd formed it after the collapse, after the destruction of the veils and forced every supernatural being into one shared reality.
Nobody knew how this happened. There were a lot of rumors about the scentweavers, but a lot of people didn't believe it.
The Enclaves of the Aetherveil, that's what people called the universe now. A broken place held together by strict laws and stricter punishments.
The rules were simple enough.
No using powers in public.
No attacking Terrans, because they were without magic and the weakest link in this forced coexistence.
Break those rules and the Pentagon would make an example of you.
Kael had heard enough whispered conversations to know that examples usually ended in blood.
"You understand what we're asking," Thorne said, his voice smooth as silk and twice as dangerous.
Kael's father shifted his weight. "You're asking us to confess to a crime we didn't commit?"
"We're offering you a way out," Ashwood corrected. "Councilor Vex made a mistake. A significant one that could destabilize the entire Pentagon if it came to light. You take responsibility, you serve one year, and then you're free. We'll ensure your sons are relocated to Elyndor Veil. No more hiding in Ironhaven with the other Terrans. They'll be protected, respected even."
"One year," his mother repeated, her voice cracking slightly.
"You have our word," Thorne said. "Your family will be safe in the main city where the laws actually protect people. Not like here."
Kael's fingers tightened on the railing. He knew about the territories, had memorized them from overheard lessons and stolen glances at forbidden maps.
The Terrans were stuck in Ironhaven Sprawl, a place where their weakness made them targets. The werewolves ruled Thornmoor Wilds, the lycans claimed Fangridge Peaks, vampires lorded over Nocturne Crypts, and witches controlled Hearthroot Coven.
But Elyndor Veil was different.
The main city where all the factions mixed and the Pentagon's laws held real weight.
In Ironhaven, Terrans were prey pretending to be people. In Elyndor Veil, they might actually be safe because they were werewolves, but a Terran can spar with them and win.
Kael's parents were omegas, the weakest of the weak in Thornmoor Wilds.
His parents looked at each other, a whole conversation passing between them in that single glance.
"We'll do it," his father said finally. "For our boys."
Kael heaved a deep sigh. One year. They could survive one year. Then they'd all be together in Elyndor Veil and everything would be better.
But Thorne's smile was wrong. It was too wide and he felt too satisfied.
"Excellent," he said. "We'll arrange for the confession tomorrow. The trial will be swift."
They left, the door closing with a soft click that sounded like a cell door slamming shut.
*
*
*
The trial happened three days later. On the public plasma which runs on witches powers, Kael's brother watched his parents stand before the Pentagon and confess to crimes they know nothing of.
Something about illegal transformations, about endangering Terran lives, about breaking the most sacred laws of the Enclaves.
Then came the verdict… They were sentenced to death.
Kael was in the kitchen when his brother burst through the door, his face mixed with anger and frustration. "They sentenced them to death!"
"Thorne pushed for execution," his brother continued, his voice shaking as he spoke. "Said the crimes were too severe for mercy and Ashwood agreed. The others followed."
Kael felt something inside him crack. He was lost in thoughts as he dropped the plates in his hands. Kael stared at his brother with a straight face.
*The words didn't make sense at first. They were supposed to get one year. That was the deal. That was the promise.* Kael thought.
"They lied." His brother's hands curled into fists. "They used them. Got them to confess and then threw them away like garbage!"
***
The execution was scheduled for dawn. Kael lay in bed that night, not sleeping, not crying, but fuming in anger as he just stared at nothing while his mind replayed every moment with his parents.
Every laugh, every lesson, every time they'd chosen him even though they didn't have to. They'd agreed to take the fall because they believed in the promise of safety. Because they trusted the system to protect their sons.
And now, the system would kill them for it.