The hall was colder than usual.
Lysander's footsteps echoed against the polished stone as he followed the servant toward the great chamber. His mind raced, but he said nothing. The mark on his chest—the one that had vanished days ago—now pulsed faintly beneath his shirt. A dull warmth, like coals pressed into skin.
They reached the carved double doors. The servant stopped, bowing stiffly before opening them.
Inside, the great hall was dimly lit by hanging lanterns. His father stood by the fireplace, a sealed scroll in one hand, the other clenched behind his back. Julius was there too, arms folded, eyes narrow.
Lysander stepped forward cautiously. "Father?"
Baron Alex Caspian turned slowly. His usually stern features were harder tonight, sculpted in lines of grim tension.
"We've received a message," the baron said. "From Black Wind Vale."
Lysander blinked. "That's nearly a week's ride north. Border territory."
"Exactly," Julius muttered. "It shouldn't concern us."
His father shot him a glance. "And yet it does."
Lysander's brow furrowed. "Why?"
The baron didn't answer immediately. Instead, he extended the scroll toward Lysander. "Read it."
Lysander stepped forward, broke the wax seal, and unrolled the parchment. The handwriting was jagged, hurried. Dried blood stained the edges.
> *To the House of Caspian,
The mist is stirring. Shadows have returned to the lower valley. One of your blood is marked. We saw it in the flame.
If you do not act, the Sleeper will awaken.
You are watched.
—Elder Thorn of the Verdant Vigil.*
Lysander's hand trembled slightly as he lowered the letter. "This… what does this mean?"
Julius snorted. "It means some backwater druid's gone mad. 'Watched'? 'Sleeper'? They sound like the ravings of a beggar."
His father's expression didn't shift. "That druid," he said coldly, "once served beside me in the King's Vanguard. He's no madman."
Lysander stared at the bloodstained parchment. "One of your blood is marked…"
"Yes," Baron Caspian said slowly. "That's what caught my eye."
Lysander looked up. "You think it's me?"
"I don't think," his father replied. "I know."
Julius tensed. "What?"
"Silence," the baron ordered. "You've seen the boy. He's changed."
Lysander's throat tightened. "I… I've been studying. That's all."
"Don't lie to me." His father's voice was iron. "You went to the forest."
Lysander flinched.
"I know every patrol route. Every guard's report. You were gone longer than your excuses claimed. And ever since that day, your aura has shifted."
Julius stared. "Aura? He hasn't even awakened yet."
The baron turned to him. "And yet I feel something coiled inside him. Something old."
Lysander's mind reeled. "You… knew I went to the trapdoor?"
"I suspected," his father admitted. "Only one bloodline in this region ever sealed that creature. And only one descendant still breathes."
"You mean… our family?"
The baron nodded. "The Verdant Vigil swore to protect the forest for a reason. The beast you found—if my guess is correct—is the Eidryn Wyrm."
Julius looked stunned. "That's a myth."
"It's not," Baron Caspian said. "It's a pact-forger. A godling sealed before the Second Sundering. To think it's still alive…"
Lysander couldn't breathe.
The name echoed in his skull. Eidryn Wyrm…
"I didn't mean to release it," Lysander whispered.
"You didn't," the baron replied. "But you let it in."
Silence fell like a blade.
Julius stepped forward, jaw tight. "You let some ancient thing into your soul?! Are you insane?"
Lysander raised his voice. "It made a deal. It didn't force me. It sealed itself again after."
"Oh, that's comforting," Julius snapped. "We're just hosting it now, like a guest?"
"Enough." The baron raised his hand. "Both of you."
He turned toward the fire, staring into the flames.
"If the Verdant Vigil sent a warning, it means whatever lies beneath that pact isn't dormant. It's stirring."
Lysander's chest burned faintly.
"So what do we do?" he asked.
His father didn't answer for a long moment.
Then, "You're going north."
"What?"
"You'll travel to Black Wind Vale at dawn," the baron said. "Under escort. You'll meet Elder Thorn, and he will assess you. If the Wyrm truly resides in your soul, he may know how to bind it… or control it."
Julius stepped forward. "He's too young."
"He's already chosen," his father said. "And if he's marked, keeping him here only risks us all."
Lysander looked at both of them, then down at his hand. It wasn't trembling anymore. Not from fear. From something else.
Resolve.
"I'll go," he said.
His father nodded solemnly. "Good."
Julius glared at him, then turned sharply and walked out without another word.
When Lysander was alone with his father, he asked quietly, "Do you fear what I'm becoming?"
The baron didn't look at him. "No. I fear what you'll awaken before you're ready."
Lysander swallowed hard. The fire crackled.
Then came a sound.
A faint hum. Like wind whistling through bone.
Lysander's head snapped up. "Did you hear—?"
But the baron was already turning.
From the far end of the hallway, a low rumble began to rise. Distant at first. Then closer.
And then—
The window exploded.