The private elevator whispered shut behind them, sealing off the chaos and whispers from the lobby. A soft hum filled the space as they ascended, the numbers above the door ticking upward with lazy precision.
Elias stood silently, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. Caius stood beside him—rigid, formal—his head slightly bowed as if awaiting judgment.
When the elevator chimed and the doors slid open, Elias found himself stepping into a completely different world.
The top floor of the Astoria wasn't part of the public hotel. It was a fortress disguised as luxury—mahogany walls, deep velvet carpets, gilded lamps casting low, moody light. Caius led him down the silent hall to a pair of massive double doors. He pressed his palm to a hidden sensor, and the locks clicked open.
Inside was a private lounge, lavish but not ostentatious. Large floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the rain-streaked city. A heavy table sat at the center, carved with symbols Elias recognized immediately—Crane markings, old and powerful, hidden in the designs.
Caius closed the doors behind them and dropped to one knee.
"My lord," Caius said, his voice low and steady, "forgive me. Had I known you were near, I would have prepared a proper welcome."
Elias studied him for a long moment. This man—this powerful figure in the city's hidden circles—was kneeling before him without hesitation.
"Stand up," Elias said quietly.
Caius obeyed, but he kept his eyes lowered. Respectful. Careful.
"You recognize me," Elias said. "Why?"
Caius clasped his hands behind his back. "My grandfather served the Cranes when they still ruled from the old cities. Before the fall. The Vance line was sworn by blood oath. When the house fell, we scattered—but the loyalty remained. We have waited generations for the bloodline to stir again."
He looked up then, his eyes sharp and unwavering. "And now, you have returned."
Elias felt the truth of it settle in the air between them. The pendant in his pocket pulsed faintly, sensing the old allegiance.
"Why stay loyal after all this time?" Elias asked.
Caius straightened. "Because the world without you has decayed into rot. The old families, the ones who betrayed you, now rule with greed and fear. But they fear the day a true Crane would rise again." His mouth tightened into a grim smile. "And that day has come."
Elias walked to the window, gazing down at the glittering city lights blurred by the rain. Somewhere out there, the Linwoods schemed, the powerful played games, and the innocent suffered.
He had stayed in the shadows for so long, waiting.
Maybe Harold had known. Maybe this was why the old man had arranged the marriage, tethering Elias to the Linwoods—putting him where he needed to be when the time came.
Elias turned back to Caius.
"I won't be a puppet," he said. "I won't wage war for nothing."
"You won't have to," Caius said. "You are the legacy. The symbol. Those who stand with you will not ask for gold or glory. They will fight because you are the rightful flame in the dark."
The words stirred something deep inside Elias—something ancient, something fierce.
He nodded once.
"Then you serve under one rule," Elias said.
Caius bowed his head. "Name it."
"I don't need worshippers," Elias said. "I need warriors. Friends. People who will fight beside me, not just behind me."
Caius pressed a hand to his chest. "You will have them."
He walked to a locked cabinet on the far wall, opened it, and pulled out a thick black binder. Inside were names, faces, addresses.
"These are the loyal remnants," Caius said. "Businesses, fighters, spies—all waiting for a signal. All bound by oath to the Cranes."
Elias ran his fingers over the pages. It wasn't just an army.
It was a sleeping empire.
"You will need them soon," Caius said. "Because others have felt your awakening."
Elias closed the binder slowly, feeling the weight of it settle into his bones.
For the first time in years, he wasn't alone.
And this time, when the world came for him—He would be ready.