Uncle Benjamin! Samuel's voice rang through the cool evening air, breathless with excitement. "Hurry! You gotta see this—there's a bird's nest way up in the apple tree!"
Without waiting for a response, the boy, no older than ten, took off running. His feet barely touched the ground as he sprinted toward the towering apple tree at the edge of the keep's grounds. Its thick, gnarled branches stretched outward like ancient arms, barring entry to the dark, mysterious forest beyond.
Benjamin's gaze followed the boy. His dear brother's youngest son—wild and free. He had fought a hundred battles, crossed swords with walkers, beasts, and binders, and yet, here he was, helplessly chasing a ten-year-old boy. He cursed himself for suggesting this walk in the first place, but a faint smile tugged at his lips as he followed.
The tree loomed ahead, massive and ancient. It stood at the border between the cultivated world of the castle and the primeval forest beyond, as though daring any who approached to turn back. Its roots twisted deep into the earth like grasping fingers, and its bark was rough and knotted, almost as if a face had been carved into it—watchful, solemn, and silently warning. The branches stretched wide, completely blocking the old path that once led deeper into the forest.
He knew this tree well. It had stood here long before his time, a silent guardian. But today, as he truly looked at it—really looked—it felt... wrong. Off. Maybe it had always been that way, and he'd simply never noticed. Or maybe, after a decade of war, his eyes finally saw the world differently.
He had left Centarious Castle as a younger man—restless and bloodthirsty. Now, summoned back, he returned with a quiet wariness, fully aware that he was walking into a trap. His brother William had called him home for a reason. And it wasn't sentiment.
Beyond the apple tree, the forest stretched out like a wound upon the earth—dark, thick, and unnaturally quiet. Even before sunset, it seemed cloaked in shadow. That was the Old Forest, the one spoken of in whispers. A place where mana beasts still roamed—ancient things, older than the gods. Creatures born before the divine order, hunted but never fully destroyed. Somewhere in the shadows, Benjamin thought he saw eyes—glowing, watching.
They rarely left the forest. But they were there. And Samuel, undeterred, climbed the tree as if he'd done it a thousand times.
…
Centarious Castle—The Blood Keep. A fortress as old as the line it protected.
Benjamin had once called it home. Now it felt like a relic of another life. This walk, meant to be simple—a stroll to bond with his nephew—had turned into something stranger. The last time he'd seen Samuel, the boy had been six months old, no bigger than a loaf of bread. Now, ten years later, he was a firecracker of energy.
Benjamin, hardened by battle and soaked in blood, was clueless when it came to children.
Still, he tried. Because William—his brother, his duke, his friend—had summoned him back. The letter had been brief, urgent. "Come home," it said. "It's time." And so Benjamin came, fearing the worst. But instead of some dire news, he'd been told to watch over the castle while William departed for the imperial capital.
With little else to do, Benjamin chose to reconnect with Samuel. Now, sitting under a tree with aching joints and a boy too brave for his own good, he was starting to regret it.
Was he even capable of this? He could lead men, command armies, slay monsters. But he didn't know how to talk to a child.
As the sun dipped lower, Benjamin made the call to head back. The mystical fog that rolled out from the forest at nightfall could disorient even seasoned soldiers. It messed with perception, blurred distance, and rewrote paths. And he wasn't about to risk losing the boy to the woods.
But just as they neared the apple tree, Samuel dashed ahead again.
Benjamin cursed softly and followed.
…
Samuel climbed the tree with ease. Benjamin stood at its base, watching the boy disappear among the leaves, his small hands gripping the branches like a seasoned climber. There was no point in shouting at him—Benjamin had already learned that much.
So instead, he sat. He leaned against the thick trunk, letting the warm golden light of sunset wash over him. For a moment, he just breathed.
How many moments like this had he missed? How many sunsets lost to war? He had no wife. No child of his own. He had rejected every marriage alliance William arranged for him, not out of arrogance, but because he knew what it meant to be the child of a duke's brother. Always second. Always expendable.
That didn't mean he hated his family. Far from it. William and his sons were the only family he had left. And he would die for them. It was for them that he fought a war that lasted nearly a decade.
Samuel's laughter rang from the tree above—pure and free.
Benjamin closed his eyes, a small smile on his lips. The warmth of the moment wrapped around him. And without meaning to, he fell asleep.
…
Theos – The Road to Centarious Castle
A polished mahogany carriage rolled down the ancient road, its gold filigree glinting in the last light of day. Enchanted steel wheels barely stirred the dust as it neared the looming walls of Centarious Castle.
Inside, Michael Centarious sat in silence.
Crimson eyes caught the dying light through the carriage window. His wavy black hair framed sharp, sculpted features. Noble. Cold. Tired.
Across from him sat Paul Luminath, a man of thirty-five with a knight's poise and a teacher's patience. There was strength in him, but it was the quiet kind—like sunlight through clouds.
The carriage neared the gate. Torches flickered to life along the walls, casting long shadows across Michael's face.
He sighed.
"paul, can I skip tomorrow's training?"
Paul glanced at him, waiting. "Why?"
Michael scoffed. "Do I need a reason?"
Paul didn't flinch. "Yes."
Michael crossed his arms. "Fine. I just got back. I want a break."
Paul raised an eyebrow. "You'll have time to rest. After training."
Michael groaned. "You say that every time."
"You're about to break the second seal," Paul replied. "You stop now, and everything you've fought for dies here."
Michael narrowed his eyes. "You always say that too."
But before he could press further, the carriage stopped.
The footman opened the door. Michael stepped out, stretching as he looked up at the keep. Paul followed, silent.
Waiting at the entrance were two figures.
Mrs. Alexandra—the housekeeper—bowed. "Good evening, young master. How was your journey?"
Michael nodded. "Fine. Long." He looked around. "Where's Sammy? He usually tackles me by now."
A pause. Just long enough to notice.
"Young Master Samuel is with your uncle, Sir Benjamin."
Michael blinked. "...What?"
"He returned earlier today," she replied.
Michael froze.
Benjamin Centarious. The ghost of a war. The Azrael of the South. Gone nine years without a single letter—and now he was here?
Paul let out a low whistle. "Didn't see that coming."
Michael's hands twitched. His voice was flat. "He didn't send word?"
"No, young master. The duke summoned him."
Michael stared at the castle door.
"So... the Azrael of the South is back," he murmured.