The Whitewynn estate was not too far off from what Adrian imagined. His steps faltered briefly as he took it in. The sprawling mansion sat behind high iron gates, the metal twisted into elaborate patterns that were both artistic and menacing. Thick vines clung to parts of the stone walls, while gargoyle statues lined the gateposts.

The facade was constructed of dark brick, accented with polished stone arches and wrought-iron balconies. Flanking the pathway to the front doors, two guards in sharp black uniforms stood stiffly, each one emblazoned with the symbol of a white lion on their sleeves.

Adrian’s gaze swept across the scene. Seems about right for what I'd expect from a family who has great influence over a place like South Tusk.

When he and Natasha approached, the heavy iron gates groaned open as a handful of servants stood waiting just beyond the threshold. They were dressed sharply in tailored suits, their postures immaculate and their expressions carefully neutral.

One stepped forward, a tall man with slicked-back hair and a faint scar running across his cheek. “Miss Natasha,” he said with a bow, his eyes flicking briefly to Adrian before returning to her. “Your father is expecting you in the dining room.”

Natasha’s lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. “Of course, he is." She didn’t pause for small talk, brushing past the servant with Adrian in tow.

Despite this, Adrian caught Natasha’s sleeve just before she could stride ahead. “Wait." He glanced back at the gate, then to her. “Can we hold off until Sister Selena gets back with my friends? I want to make sure they’re okay.”

Natasha stopped, an eyebrow arched in faint disbelief. Her lips parted as if she were about to unleash a sharp retort, but instead, she studied him for a moment. “Fine."

Adrian blinked. “Really? I didn’t think you’d agree.”

She exhaled, tilting her head slightly as if pondering something far off. “I’m feeling nice, for now.” Her expression shifted to something closer to resignation than kindness, but there was no venom in her tone.

Adrian let out a quiet sigh of relief, though he didn’t entirely trust the sudden bout of leniency. I’ll take it while it lasts.

The two stood quietly by the gates as minutes ticked by. The air was heavy with the scent of damp stone and freshly trimmed hedges. Natasha, on her part, seemed content to let the silence stretch, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond the mansion.

Eventually, the sound of hurried footsteps drew their attention. Sister Selena approached, her long robes swaying as she walked briskly with Kael and Galtier trailing just behind her.The sight of them brought a rush of relief to Adrian, who stepped forward to meet them.

“Adrian? You waited for us?” Sister Selena asked.

“He wanted to, yes,” Natasha cut in.

Sister Selena’s expression softened into gratitude. “Thank you, Adrian. That means a lot.”

He shrugged, though his cheeks warmed slightly at her words. “I should be the one thanking you for bringing them here.” His gaze moved to Kael and Galtier. “Can they be brought somewhere safe in the estate? I don’t want them left out here.”

Sister Selena nodded, already signaling to a few nearby servants. “Of course, they should be able to stay in the guest rooms. Though they'll have to use the side entrance."

Two servants approached, bowing slightly before gesturing for Kael and Galtier to follow. Kael’s mouth opened as if to argue, but Galtier placed a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Calm down, Kael,” Galtier said, before turning to Adrian. “Good luck out there, we'll be waiting."

Kael frowned but muttered something under his breath before following Galtier and the servants. His reluctance was clear, but the knight's presence kept him in check.

When they disappeared into the estate, Adrian exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Natasha tapped her foot lightly against the stone path, drawing his attention back to her. “Are we done with the delays now?”

Adrian shot her a glance and then gave a small nod. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Her lips curled into a faint smirk. “You’re welcome. Don’t get used to it.”

***

The interior of the estate was no less intimidating than the exterior. Polished marble floors gleamed under the light of low-hanging chandeliers, while deep crimson rugs with intricate gold embroidery lined the hallways.

The faint scent of cedarwood hung in the air, mingling with an undercurrent of something sharper and metallic. Adrian inhaled deeply, his senses on edge. What is that? Blood? Steel?

Servants moved silently through the halls, their heads slightly bowed as they carried trays laden with crystal decanters or stacks of paper. An invisible weight pressed down on the atmosphere, a tension that clung to everyone like a second skin. Everyone here knows their place, and they know better than to challenge it.

Finally, they stopped before a set of heavy oak doors. The dark wood gleamed with a polished sheen, and ornate brass handles shaped like coiled serpents.

Natasha turned to face him, her expression carefully neutral. “This is it."

Adrian arched an eyebrow, folding his arms. “Why are you stopping?"

Before Natasha could respond, Sister Selena let out a soft, musical chuckle from behind them. “She’s hesitating, Miss Natasha always gets flustered when it’s time to speak to her father.”

Adrian’s lips twitched into a faint smile as he glanced at Natasha, whose composed mask cracked just enough to reveal a flicker of annoyance. Her violet eyes narrowed as she rolled them dramatically, crossing her arms with a huff.

“Th-that’s not true,” she snapped, though the faint pink creeping into her cheeks betrayed her. “And you don’t need to involve yourself in this.”

Selena’s grin widened, a mischievous glint in her gaze. She stepped forward, resting her hand lightly on the brass handle. “Why don’t I help you, Miss Natasha? I’ll open the door for you.”

Natasha’s hand shot out, her fingers curling around Selena’s wrist before she could pull the handle. “Don’t, I… I’ll do it myself.”

Natasha grasped the ornate brass handle with purpose, the serpent-shaped design cold under her fingers. With a steady pull, the heavy oak doors creaked open, revealing an opulent dining room.

The room was vast, its high ceilings adorned with intricate carvings of coiling vines and mythic beasts. A long dining table stretched nearly the entire length of the chamber, its dark wood polished to a mirror-like finish.

Rich crimson curtains framed the tall windows, their heavy fabric trimmed with gold embroidery that shimmered faintly in the light. A faint aroma of spiced wine and roasted meats lingered in the air, mingling with the subtle, earthy scent of aged wood.

Adrian’s gaze swept across the space, his sharp eyes landing on the figure seated at the head of the table. There he is.

The man at the end of the table was striking in every sense of the word. Long silver-gray hair fell loosely over his shoulders, contrasting sharply with the tailored black suit he wore. The fabric hugged his tall, lean frame perfectly, and the faint gleam of several gemstone-encrusted rings caught the light as he set an empty glass down on the table.

His sharp features carried an air of authority, his piercing silver-gray eye locking onto Natasha with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. An eyepatch covered his right eye, its black leather embroidered with the faintest hint of gold. Not someone to underestimate.

The moment Natasha stepped inside, the man rose smoothly to his feet. A smile broke across his as he spoke. “There’s my little princess,” he said, spreading his arms slightly as though expecting an embrace. “How’s my Natasha doing tonight?”

“Daddy! Stop embarrassing me!” Natasha’s voice carried a sharp edge of embarrassment, and she crossed her arms with a huff.

Unperturbed, the man strode forward, his smile widening as he closed the distance. Without hesitation, he wrapped Natasha in a firm hug, resting his hand lightly on the back of her head. “And you need to stop sneaking out without me knowing. Next time, I won’t let you off so easily.”

Natasha stiffened, her cheeks flushing faintly as she avoided his gaze. “I wasn’t sneaking out, I… just wanted to get some fresh air."

"Right, right, of course."

Adrian couldn’t stop the quiet chuckle that escaped him, the sight of Natasha so thoroughly unbalanced stirring his amusement. The sound, however, drew the man’s attention like a hawk catching movement.

His eye locked onto Adrian, and the room seemed to shrink under the weight of his gaze. Uh oh.

The warmth he had shown Natasha vanished, replaced by a palpable intensity that pressed against Adrian like a heavy cloak. Adrian’s chest tightened instinctively, and his flames flickered just beneath the surface of his skin, ready to ignite. This is bad.

The man’s voice cut through the silence, calm but laced with menace. “Do you think you can get away with trying to hurt my daughter?”

Adrian tensed, his muscles coiling as his body prepared to act. If he’s coming at me, I’ll have to—

Before he could finish the thought, the man threw his head back and laughed. The tension shattered like glass, replaced by a teasing warmth that felt almost out of place. “Relax, I’m just joking. I know Natasha can be a bit of a handful sometimes.”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Adrian exhaled slowly, his flames receding as he studied the man with a wary gaze. “So… am I in trouble, or not?”

The man chuckled again, his smile returning. “Not at all. I appreciate someone who doesn’t back down easily.” He gestured to the long table, his movements smooth and unhurried. “Now, sit. Natasha, sit beside me.”

Natasha muttered something under her breath but complied, settling into the chair at his right. Adrian hesitated briefly before taking a seat across from her, his posture alert despite the apparent ease of the man’s demeanor.

The man poured himself another glass of amber liquid, the faint aroma of spiced alcohol filling the air. He turned toward Selena, his voice carrying an air of quiet authority. “Selena, leave us. I’d like some privacy with our guest.”

Selena nodded, her expression composed but her gaze lingering on Adrian for a moment. With graceful steps, she exited the room, leaving the three of them alone.

The man leaned back in his chair, swirling the liquid in his glass as he fixed his gaze on Adrian, "You can call me Lysander."

Adrian shuffled in his seat awkwardly, though he tried his best to maintain composure. "It's, uh, a pleasure to meet you, Sir."

"No need to be so formal with me boy, how about you start by telling me your name?"

"Adrian is fine."

Lysander poured himself a measure of the amber liquid from the nearest decanter, swirling it casually in the glass. He took a sip before speaking. “You know, Adrian, I’ve been keeping an eye on you ever since you set foot in South Tusk.”

Adrian blinked, his brows knitting slightly. “How exactly have you been doing that?”

Lysander laughed as though the question itself amused him. “Don’t sweat the small details, boy. Let’s just say I have my ways."

Adrian thought for a moment, weighing whether to press the issue. Prying probably won’t get me anywhere with him. Better to let it slide for now. He exhaled softly and leaned back in his chair. “Then, why did you want to speak with me?”

Lysander’s smile broadened, and he set his glass down gently. “Well, from what I hear, Natasha hasn’t stopped talking about you for quite some time now.”

Natasha’s expression shifted instantly, her composure cracking. A flush of color touched her cheeks as she shot her father a sharp look. “Daddy, stop it! You’re embarrassing me again!”

Lysander laughed again, entirely unfazed by her outburst. “I’m sorry, princess, but I can’t help it. You look adorable when you’re flustered.”

Natasha groaned and rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath as she reached for the glass she had poured earlier. Her reaction drew a quiet chuckle from Adrian, who quickly looked away when she glared at him.

Once his laughter subsided, Lysander fixed his gaze on Adrian again. “All joking aside, you’re important, Adrian. That much is clear. And that’s why I wanted to speak with you.”

Adrian raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Who have you been hearing that from?”

Lysander leaned back in his chair, the rings on his fingers catching the light as he tapped them lightly against the table. “Selena, for one. And the Mourne.”

Adrian’s jaw tightened at the mention of the Mourne, and he leaned forward slightly. “What did she tell you?”

Lysander shrugged. “Something about a prophecy, but it's probably best if you ask her yourself.”

Adrian’s gaze hardened. “And what about the Mourne? How involved are you with them?”

Lysander’s silver eye held his for a long moment before he answered, his tone softer. “I know that’s a sensitive subject for you. Selena told me what they did to you and her years ago.”

“So I’ll be blunt. I’ll have a hard time being friendly unless you can give me a good explanation.”

"Then here's the short version: the Mourne isn’t as unified as you think. There are two factions. One is the group that attacked you, the extremists. The other... well, they’re trying to help you.”

Adrian folded his arms, skepticism plain in his voice. “That’s a hard story to believe.”

“I don’t blame you, but if you want proof, I suggest you speak with someone more involved than I am.” Lysander paused, his brow furrowing slightly. “What’s her name again...?”

Natasha sighed, setting her glass down with an audible clink. “Daddy, you’re thinking about Seven.”

“Ah, yes. Seven,” Lysander said, snapping his fingers. “You should talk to her. She’ll be here tomorrow to meet with a knight, if I recall correctly.”

Adrian’s eyes narrowed. “Galtier.”

Lysander smiled, nodding. “Exactly. She’s a regular visitor here, you know. Natasha enjoys her company when she gets the chance.”

Natasha groaned again, leaning back in her chair. “That’s because you scare off most of my other potential friends.”

Lysander dismissed her comment with a laugh. “Nonsense. I’m just protective.”

Adrian exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose briefly. “With all due respect… saying a lot, and I don’t know how much of it I can believe.”

Lysander inclined his head slightly. “Trust takes time, boy. How about this: stay the night. Bring any of your friends along, if you like. Ask all the questions you want. I’m not going to stop you.”

Adrian considered the offer, then nodded slowly. “I appreciate that. But why are you doing so much for me?”

“I have an eye for good investments, Adrian. And you? You look like an exceptional one indeed.”

***

A servant led Adrian through the labyrinthine hallways of the Whitewynn estate. Adrian’s gaze flicked to the servant as they approached a tall wooden door, carved with intricate floral patterns.

The servant stopped, gesturing toward it with a slight bow. “This will be your room for the night, sir.”

Adrian hesitated before entering, his thoughts tugged elsewhere. “Do you know where my friends are located exactly?"

The servant’s expression shifted, his brows drawing together in a faint shadow of discomfort. “I’m afraid I don’t, sir. My apologies.”

"Wait, aren't they in the guest rooms somewhere?"

"Yes, but there are many guest rooms in the mansion, Sir. I'm not quite sure which one they're in, you'll have to check with the other servants."

Adrian’s shoulders sagged, and he let out a slow sigh. “It’s fine. Thanks.” I'll have to ask for Kael and Galtier soon.

He gave a brief nod of dismissal and opened the door, stepping into the room. The guest room was as lavish as the rest of the estate, yet it carried a sense of isolation. A plush, four-poster bed stood at the center, draped in dark green and gold linens.

Adrian walked to the bed and sat down, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. He stared at the smooth marble floor, his thoughts spinning. Natasha’s father knows more than he’s letting on. The Mourne, Selena, even me... How much of what he said can I actually trust? And what if bringing Kael and Galtier here was a mistake?

His hands rested on his knees, fingers absently brushing the fabric of his trousers as he tried to find an anchor in the storm of his thoughts. I don’t like being caught in their game. But I can’t walk away, not without answers.

A soft knock at the door broke through the quiet. Adrian’s head lifted, his body tensing reflexively. “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” came Sister Sister Selena’s familiar voice. “May I come in?”

Adrian exhaled slowly, some of the tension bleeding from his shoulders. “Of course."

Selena stepped into the room and closed the door gently behind her. She crossed the room and sat beside him on the edge of the bed, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

“You’ve got a lot on your mind,” she said softly.

Adrian sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Yeah. You could say that.” He turned his head slightly, his gaze meeting hers. “How about you? How do you feel about all this? About being here?”

Selena’s lips curved into a faint smile, though there was a shadow of something heavier in her expression. “I go by just Selena nowadays, Adrian. I’m no longer part of the Church of Isha.”

Adrian straightened, the statement catching him off guard. “What? Why?”

“A lot has changed since that day... since the ambush. After the Mourne attacked us, Seven and I were taken prisoner. For a long time, we were held in one of their compounds. I lost track of the days, but it felt like years.”

“How did you get out?”

“It was another Mourne member who freed us. A defector, I suppose you could call him. He said that he was sent by the Prophet, and that he had plans for me and Seven."

Adrian frowned. “The Prophet?”

Selena nodded. “He's supposedly the original leader of the Mourne, before the organization fell apart."

"So, what you're saying is that there are different factions all operating under the Mourne name, but each one wants different things?"

"You could say that, after all, it's not too difficult to dress oneself up and wear a mask. There are a lot of criminals who like to take advantage of the Mourne name to cover their tracks."

Adrian leaned back slightly, his mind racing to piece together the fragments of information. All of this is hard to believe without any further evidence, but I doubt Selena is one to lie about this kind of stuff.

“After we escaped, the defector took us to a compound aligned with the Prophet. He convinced Seven to follow his cause, believing that it was the best way to move forward."

"Really? Just like that?"

"I… am glossing over a lot of things. But essentially, the Prophet believes that a great disaster is going to occur in the not too distant future. And that certain things need to be done to prevent that."

"Can you tell me more?"

"I— I'm sorry, but I don't know too much about the details. Because while Seven is still in the Mourne, I was sent off to the Whitewynns not too long after being freed by the Prophet's faction."

Adrian leaned forward, his blue eyes locked onto Selena’s. “Why would the Mourne sell you off to the Whitewynns?”

Selena raised her hands gently, a faint, reassuring smile on her lips. “It wasn’t anything malicious, Adrian. They weren’t trying to harm me. Quite the opposite, really.”

“Then why?”

“The Mourne had been trying to help me. After we escaped, they wanted to take me back to the convent but when we got there… it was gone. Destroyed.”

Adrian’s stomach churned. "What then?"

She hesitated for a moment, then continued. “Seven proposed sending me to the Whitewynns instead. The family had a history of dealings with the Mourne and were considered trustworthy enough to keep me safe. She thought it was the best option.”

Adrian’s eyes narrowed. The best option? To hand her over to a criminal family? “How have they treated you?”

Selena hesitated, her expression faltering for a moment before she offered him a weak smile. “They’ve treated me… well, all things considered. I do chores, but nothing too difficult. I have my own quarters, warm and comfortable. I’m allowed to wander the estate, and there’s always food and drink. They even give me an allowance and days off.”

“It’s nice that they’re treating you well, but none of this sits right with me.”

Selena’s brows furrowed, concern flickering in her gaze. “Adrian…”

“No,” he interrupted gently. “The Whitewynns are still a crime family, Selena, and the Mourne? They’re questionable at best.”

Selena sighed, nodding softly. “I understand your concerns, but life doesn’t always allow us to live the way we want. Sometimes, we have to make do with what we’re given.”

Adrian rubbed the back of his neck, exhaling heavily. “I understand that, but that doesn’t mean it makes me feel any better.”

A brief silence fell between them. Selena’s expression grew thoughtful, and then she tilted her head slightly, her gaze softening. “You know, I believe that everything happens for a reason. Even the hardships we face. Especially in your case.”

Adrian frowned, her words catching him off guard. “What do you mean?”

“The Church of Isha always believed you were special, Adrian. You were born under an auspicious star. And when they discovered your magical abilities at such a young age, it confirmed what they’d already suspected.”

“What did they suspect?”

“That you were the child of prophecy."

Adrian felt his stomach twist. Prophecy? He leaned forward, his brows furrowing. “What prophecy?”

Selena closed her eyes for a moment as she recited words that felt ancient:

“From ashes, the child of blue flames shall rise,

A beacon in darkness, with unyielding eyes.

When shadows gather and kingdoms fall,

His fire shall answer the call

A world reshaped by his radiant embrace

So that the mortal races shall not be erased."