The golden banners of the Fallayn estate fluttered in the wind, their insignia — a twin-bladed crest surrounded by flame — shining proudly under the afternoon sun. For the first time in years, the great halls were filled with laughter again. Servants hurried across marble floors, musicians tuned their instruments, and the fragrance of rare blossoms filled the air.
It was the day of celebration — the marriage of Lord Erion Fallayn's son, the eldest heir of the family's proud lineage. Guests arrived from across kingdoms, noble and common alike, all eager to witness the grand reunion of one of the most powerful families in the realm.
Inside the grand hall, pillars carved with dragon motifs towered overhead. Long tables were lined with delicacies, from roasted beast to crystal flasks of amber wine. Candles burned with gentle light, giving everything a soft, almost dreamlike glow.
Among the guests stood Jessa, quiet but radiant in a silver gown. Her beauty carried a calm grace — not the kind that draws attention, but the kind that lingers quietly in memory. She smiled faintly when greeted, her voice polite, soft, and distant.
Yet behind that calm smile, there was something unspoken — an emptiness in her eyes, as if she were watching a scene she didn't belong to anymore.
"Lady Jessa," a voice called gently — it was Seren, one of her sisters-in-law. "It's been years since we've seen you. You look… well."
Jessa's lips curved faintly, though her tone was cool. "Thank you, Seren. It's been… quiet these past years."
Quiet. That word lingered awkwardly between them. Both women knew the silence she spoke of was not peace — it was the kind of quiet left behind after storms.
Around them, laughter rang out, toasts were made, and the orchestra began to play. Yet, beneath all the joy, there was a tension no one dared name. The Fallayn family's name still carried weight, but also the whisper of a curse — one no one mentioned, especially today.
A few of the older guests avoided looking toward the western wing of the mansion, where the family's ancestral hall lay sealed — untouched for nearly eight years.
When the vows were spoken, cheers erupted, and for a moment, it truly felt as if the family had found happiness again. Yet as dusk fell and the lanterns were lit, Jessa stepped outside to the courtyard, where the noise of the hall faded into a soft hum.
The night sky stretched endlessly, the stars faint behind drifting clouds. She looked up, her fingers tracing the ring still on her hand.
No one saw the single tear that slipped down her cheek — nor heard her whisper to the wind,
"You should have been here…"
A cold gust swept through the courtyard then, strong enough to make the lanterns flicker. Some said it was just the wind. Others, later, would swear it felt like something else — a presence, vast and silent, watching from far away.
The celebration had ended.
Music faded into the night, replaced by the soft hum of wind outside the manor walls. The guests had retired, laughter now distant echoes across the grand halls. Only the soft glow of moonlight filled the corridors, brushing against the carved doors of the bridal chamber.
Inside, the air was warm and still. Candles flickered gently on polished tables, and the scent of jasmine lingered from the garlands that had been placed earlier.
The bride, Elyra, sat quietly by the window, her veil set aside. Her hands rested on her lap, fidgeting slightly, betraying the storm of thoughts she carried. Her husband — Kael Fallayn, the eldest brother's son — was pouring wine, his expression calm but thoughtful.
They had spoken little since entering the room. The silence between them was not of shyness, but of weight — the kind that comes from being part of a name too heavy to bear.
Finally, Elyra turned to him. Her voice trembled just a little.
"Kael… may I ask you something?"
He looked up, surprised by her tone, and nodded.
"Of course."
She hesitated, searching his eyes.
"Is it true… what they say? About… him?"
The question hung in the air like a blade.
Kael froze. For a moment, the warmth of the candles seemed to fade. His jaw tightened, and he looked away toward the window where the moonlight spilled across the floor.
"People say many things," he answered quietly.
"But this one… it's hard to believe," Elyra continued softly. "How could one man do such things alone? They say he—"
Kael raised a hand gently, stopping her words. His tone remained calm, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of pain.
"You don't need to speak of it tonight."
"But I want to understand," she said, her voice fragile but firm. "I've heard the stories since I was a child. Every kingdom whispers his name like a curse. I thought they were legends until I married into this family… and saw how even the servants fall silent when it's mentioned."
Kael's expression hardened. He took a slow breath, then said quietly,
"It's not a legend."
Elyra's heart skipped. "Then it's true?"
Kael looked down, his hand tightening around the cup until it trembled.
"What he did… no words can truly describe it. But yes — it happened. The war, the deaths… all of it. He was one of us once. A Fallayn. But he's no longer counted among the living in our hearts."
Elyra didn't speak. She only watched him, the glow of the candles dancing in her uncertain eyes.
"You hate him," she whispered.
Kael's lips pressed into a thin line. "We all do. But hatred doesn't change the past. It only keeps the wounds open."
For a long moment, neither spoke. The only sound was the wind brushing against the windowpanes. Then Elyra turned her gaze toward the stars.
"Do you think he's still alive?"
Kael hesitated — and in that silence, his eyes gave away the truth his voice would not.
Outside, the clouds shifted, and thunder murmured faintly in the distance — though no storm had been forecast for days.