The silver thread wrapped around my wrist hummed with a cold, vibrating vibration.
It wasn’t physical steel. It was pure, condensed soul-mana, carved into the atmosphere with enough speed to snare a falling leaf.
I didn’t pull back. I didn’t reach for a blade.
Beneath my hood, my black silk blindfold stayed perfectly fixed over my eyes, but my perception mapped out every micro-circuit of light etched into her skin.
The eleven-year-old girl standing before me was a masterpiece of lethal magic.
Her night-black hair hung in a crisp ponytail, and her pale-blue eyes locked onto mine with terrifying, cold analysis.
The glowing silver runes carved into the skin of her throat and forearms pulsed in dark rhythm with her heartbeat—the mark of a true prodigy of the Medeis family.
"The useless trash of the Prim family is a thief in the night," she repeated softly, her voice smooth and devoid of childhood warmth.
"Valerian Prim Sanguis. You’re supposed to be in bed, nursing your fractured soul-core after barely surviving the Crucible."
"And you’re supposed to be in the eastern territory, Lady Medeis," I replied, my voice calm, small, and unhurried.
"Yet here you are, standing in a rat-infested apothecary in the lower rings, dropping from my ceiling."
A faint, sharp spark flickered in her pale-blue eyes.
"I came to collect the ledger," she said, nodding subtly toward the thick stack of parchment tucked securely beneath my dark cloak.
"Elder Garren’s paper trail is a mess. My father sent me to erase it before your third brother’s spies traced the silver ink back to our border forge."
’She’s sharp, kid,’ Wren purred inside my head, her spirit form hovering right beside the girl’s shoulder, completely unseen by her soul-sensors.
’And she has three multi-cast defensive runes pre-drawn on her left palm. If she snaps her fingers, she can trigger a light-flash and a barrier simultaneously.’
’I know,’ I thought back.
’The Medeis family’s second daughter... Lady Lyra Medeis.’
In my past life, Lyra was known as the Soul Archon—a cold, terrifying strategist who single-handedly held the eastern front during the Great Border War.
Seeing her now at eleven years old, already mastering internal soul-carving, confirmed why she was feared across the continent.
"You can’t have the ledger, Lady Lyra," I said, taking a half-step forward.
"Is that a threat?"
Lyra’s left hand twitched, the silver runes on her throat flaring with a bright blue hue.
"You have no Death Aura. You have no guards. Aura is standing outside your bedroom door three miles away, and Rook is in the lower dungeons."
"If I slice your throat right now, no one will ever know the ’trash’ didn’t die in his sleep."
"Try it," I whispered.
The air in the small room instantly dropped ten degrees.
I didn’t draw a weapon.
I merely shifted my weight, channeling a microscopic droplet of Stage 1 Dragon-Vein Ignition into my left wrist—the one bound by her silver soul-thread.
BOOM.
A tiny, silent burst of ignited blood-heat erupted from my pulse point.
The silver strand didn’t just snap; the raw, ancient dragon heat traveled straight up the mana-line, burning through her connection in a fraction of a second.
Lyra’s eyes widened in absolute shock.
She stumbled back half a step, gasping as her left forearm flared with a sudden, stinging backlash.
" ENEMY SOUL-THREAD SEVERED "
" DRAGON-VEIN HEAT: APPLIED "
"You..."
Lyra stared at her reddened wrist, then locked her gaze onto my black blindfold, her composure shattering for the very first time.
"That wasn’t Death Aura. That was... ancient dragon blood."
She swallowed.
"You didn’t just survive the Crucible..."
"I devoured it," I said softly, stepping closer until I was standing barely three feet from her.
"Garren thinks he’s playing chess. He thinks he can use your family’s shadow mages to pull down the Prim core line."
"But tell me, Lady Lyra... do you really think your father is the one pulling Garren’s strings?"
Lyra’s breath caught in her throat.
She flexed her fingers, her sharp mind instantly processing my words.
"What are you implying?"
"Look at the ledger again," I said, gesturing to the papers in my coat.
"The funds drawn from the Sec family didn’t go to your family’s official Treasury. They went to a hidden sanctuary in the northern abyss."
"The runes used on the Crucible pillars weren’t standard Medeis soul-carvings either."
I leaned in slightly, my voice dropping into a dark whisper.
"They smell like rot, Lyra. Like something ancient... something that feeds on blood and soul alike."
Demons.
I didn’t say the word aloud.
At eleven years old, even a prodigy like Lyra wouldn’t fully grasp the concept of the abyssal cults creeping behind the curtain.
But seed planted now would bloom into suspicion later.
Lyra stood frozen, her pale-blue eyes searching my blindfolded face as if trying to tear through the black silk and read my very soul.
"You’re not trash," she murmured, a strange, complex emotion flickering across her features—a mixture of deep caution and profound intrigue.
"You’ve been playing blind and helpless for ten years."
"A hound doesn’t bark before it bites," I replied, pulling my hood lower over my brow.
"Take a copy of the ledger if you want to protect your family’s name. But the original stays with me."
"Garren falls by my hand, not your father’s."
Lyra remained silent for three long seconds.
Slowly, the glowing runes on her throat faded back into pale skin.
She reached into her dark robes, pulling out a small, silver-rimmed crystal orb, tossing it gently toward me.
I caught it effortlessly with my right hand.
"A scrying stone linked directly to my personal sanctuary," Lyra said coldly, turning her back to the open window.
"If you find proof that a third party is corrupting my family’s soul-carvers... contact me."
"If you’re lying to me, Valerian Sanguis... I will personally carve a tracking rune onto your heart."
With a silent ruffle of her dark cloak, she vanished into the rain-slicked night like a phantom, leaving no trace of her presence behind.
’Ooh, I like her,’ Wren giggled inside my head, swirling around the silver crystal in my hand.
’She’s feisty, smart, and she smells like high-grade soul-mana. Are we keeping her?’
"She’s an asset," I thought back, slipping the crystal and the ledger into my inner pocket.
"And eventually... an ally."
I returned to my bedchamber through the secret passages just as the first grey light of dawn broke over the horizon.
I stripped off my wet cloak, hid the ledger beneath the floorboards under my wardrobe, and climbed into bed, pulling the silk blanket over my chest just as the heavy wooden door creaked open.
"Young Master?"
Aura stepped into the room, carrying a silver tray with warm tea and fresh porridge.
Her golden-amber eyes immediately scanned the room, settling on my quiet form in the bed.
"Good morning, Aura," I said softly, sitting up and rubbing my blindfold as if awakening from a long slumber.
Aura dropped to one knee beside the bed, setting the tray down on the nightstand.
She looked at me, her sharp warrior instincts picking up a faint, almost imperceptible scent in the air.
"Rain..." she whispered, her brow furrowing slightly as she glanced toward the tightly shut window.
"Young Master... did you open the window last night?"
"I thought I heard the wind," I replied, offering her a harmless, innocent smile.
"Was there a storm?"
Aura stared at me for a moment longer before her expression softened into deep warmth.
She reached out, gently adjusting my blanket.
"Yes, Young Master. But the storm has passed."
"You are safe here."
Before I could answer, heavy, rapid footfalls echoed down the marble hallway outside, followed by the loud, authoritative voice of the head butler, Rook.
"Make way! Clear the main courtyard immediately!"
Aura stood up instantly, her hand dropping to her sword hilt as the door was pushed open wider.
Rook stepped inside, his silver hair impeccably combed, though his usually stoic face bore a rare expression of high solemnity.
"Young Master Valerian," Rook said, bowing deeply at a ninety-degree angle.
"Lady Vespera requests your immediate presence in the Great Mirror Hall."
"What happened, Rook?" Aura asked sharply, stepping between Rook and my bed.
Rook raised his head, his sharp eyes flashing with immense gravity.
"An imperial carriage bearing the crest of the Golden Sun has just passed through the main gates," Rook announced softly.
"His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor... accompanied by his second daughter, Princess Solene, has arrived to inspect the border."
Rook looked directly at me, his voice dropping into a respectful hush.
"The Princess has requested to meet the seventh child of the Prim bloodline."