Lucan wandered through the fortress with no clear destination.

  He had spent the entire day with the same uneasy weight in his chest, a mix of curiosity and fear he couldn’t shake off. The looks. The silences. The way everyone seemed to tense whenever he mentioned his past… none of it was accidental.

  What happened to me?

  Why don’t I remember anything?

  He stopped abruptly.

  He couldn’t keep ignoring it.

  If anyone had answers, it was Eldric.

  He found him in one of the inner corridors, reviewing reports. Eldric looked up as he sensed Lucan’s presence, as serious as ever.

  “I need to ask you something,” Lucan said without preamble.

  Eldric gave a small nod.

  “Go on.”

  Lucan hesitated for a second.

  “My past. Before I came with you.” He paused, searching for the right words. “I barely remember anything. Do you know why?”

  Silence settled between them.

  Eldric lowered his gaze for a moment, as if weighing every word before letting it out.

  “I don’t know.”

  Lucan frowned.

  “What do you mean you don’t know?”

  Eldric exhaled slowly.

  “You know I left the kingdom long before you were born, Lucan. Years before.” His voice dropped even lower. “After what happened… I lost almost all contact with Valthera. What I know about you, I learned later, when Alaric asked me to take care of you. And even then, they never told me everything. Only what was necessary to protect you.”

  Lucan felt frustration burn in his throat.

  “So… no one knows anything?”

  “I suspect things. I have intuitions. But no facts.” Eldric looked at him directly. “I can’t tell you what I don’t know. And even if I knew more, I wouldn’t be the one who should tell you.”

  Lucan clenched his jaw. He wanted to say more, but the words got stuck. He acknowledged Eldric with a stiff nod and walked away before the anger showed in his voice.

  Eldric watched him go without trying to stop him.

  Only when Lucan disappeared down the corridor did he murmur to himself,

  “I’m not the one who owes you answers… but I wish I could give them to you.”

  Still, Lucan wasn’t done.

  If Eldric didn’t know, there was one person left.

  Alaric.

  Entering his chamber felt like carrying an invisible weight. Alaric stood alone by the window, gazing out over the Kingdom from above.

  “Lucan,” he said without turning. “I can feel how restless you are.”

  “I need answers,” Lucan said. “Everyone goes quiet when I talk about my past.”

  Alaric closed his eyes.

  When he turned around, his expression wasn’t harsh.

  It was tired.

  “There are things I can’t tell you,” he replied softly. “Not because I don’t trust you… but because doing so could put you in danger.”

  Something cracked inside Lucan.

  “Danger from what?” he asked. “From knowing who I am?”

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “It’s too soon.”

  Lucan shook his head, disbelieving.

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “It’s the only one I can give you,” Alaric said. “Not now.”

  The silence became unbearable.

  Lucan felt the pressure rising in his chest, frustration mixing with something deeper.

  “Everyone knows something except me,” he said quietly. “Do you have any idea what that feels like?”

  Alaric didn’t respond.

  Lucan turned away before the anger became something worse.

  He needed to do something.

  Anything that wasn’t thinking.

  The training yard was almost empty when he arrived. The cold air hit his face, but it wasn’t enough to calm him.

  He awakened the Seal.

  Not to master it.

  Not to understand it.

  Just to drown out the noise in his head.

  The mark burned beneath his skin, responding unevenly. Lucan frowned but didn’t stop. He attacked, moved, forced the energy without truly being present.

  The Seal reacted poorly.

  The energy came out fractured, unstable, as if it couldn’t find a clear channel. The air vibrated strangely. The ground creaked beneath his feet.

  “Focus…” he muttered, frustrated.

  But he couldn’t.

  Each attempt was worse. Every movement more erratic. The Seal flared and dimmed without control, mirroring his inner chaos.

  He didn’t notice someone watching him.

  Selene had stopped the moment she felt that energy. It wasn’t normal. This wasn’t ordinary training.

  Lucan wasn’t focused.

  He was lost.

  The energy radiating from the Seal made her skin prickle. It was ancient. Heavy. Unstable.

  Selene felt afraid.

  And she left.

  That night, she hesitated before speaking. Keeping it to herself felt like betrayal. Saying it out loud felt like breaking something.

  But she did it anyway.

  “Mom…” she said. “Today I saw something strange about Lucan.”

  She explained what she had seen: the training, the mark, the erratic energy, the way the air itself seemed to respond. As she spoke, the color slowly drained from Elira’s face.

  She didn’t interrupt.

  When Selene finished, Elira slowly placed her hand on the table.

  “Are you sure about what you felt?”

  “Yes,” Selene replied. “It wasn’t normal. And Lucan… he wasn’t focused. He looked lost.”

  Elira closed her eyes.

  Old memories surfaced without permission.

  Eldric, years ago, speaking of dreams. Of marks. Of seals that should never be awakened without balance. Of something the kingdom had tried to control—and failed.

  Back then, she hadn’t understood.

  Now, she was beginning to.

  “You haven’t done anything wrong,” Elira said at last. “But don’t speak of this to anyone else. Not yet.”

  Selene nodded, though the unease remained lodged in her chest.

  When she left, Elira stayed behind, unmoving, her gaze lost in the distance.

  In the Virell household, the tension erupted in a different way.

  “This isn’t normal. You can’t keep acting like nothing’s happening.”

  Maelis looked up, exhausted.

  “Darian, please—”

  “No,” he cut in. “Tell me what’s going on. Ever since he arrived, everything changed. Dad won’t stop talking about him. You look at him like he’s—” he clenched his teeth, “—like he’s part of the family.”

  The silence was answer enough.

  “He’s a stranger,” Darian went on. “A complete stranger. And suddenly he matters more than we do?”

  Renar stood up.

  “No one is replacing anyone.”

  “That’s not how it feels,” Darian shot back. “It feels like we’re being pushed aside.”

  Maelis stepped toward him.

  “You’re not being replaced.”

  “Then explain why everything revolves around him,” Darian said, his voice cracking. “What does he have that we don’t?”

  No one answered.

  And that hurt the most.

  Darian shook his head and stormed out, slamming the door so hard it echoed through the entire house.

  And far from all of that, Lucan remained awake.

  He left once exhaustion finally overcame frustration.

  The anger was gone, replaced by that thick fatigue that comes after thinking too much. The Seal was still there, quiet for the first time in hours, as if it too were tired.

  He walked without a clear direction, letting himself drift through the more open corridors of the kingdom, through streets he rarely visited. The night air was cold, but clean. It helped clear his mind.

  Maybe this is all I needed, he thought. Silence. Space.

  That was when he reached the boundary.

  Not a towering wall or a heavily guarded gate. Just an old section of stone, wedged between newer structures, darkened and worn by time. No one seemed to pay it any attention.

  Lucan almost walked past it.

  Then the Seal reacted.

  Not with pain.

  Not with fire.

  With a gentle pulse.

  Lucan stopped short.

  He looked more closely at the wall. Between the cracks, barely visible, was a symbol. Ancient. Faint… until it flickered.

  A brief flash, like something had taken a breath.

  His chest tightened.

  He stepped closer, heart racing for reasons he couldn’t explain. The sensation was clear now: it wasn’t a threat.

  It was recognition.

  “What… are you?” he murmured, not realizing he had spoken out loud.

  The Seal answered with a faint tingling beneath his skin, as if something were trying to align, to fit into place. Lucan raised his hand, hesitating. He didn’t touch the wall, yet the energy moved anyway, drawing an invisible line between him and the symbol.

  For a moment, he felt that if he took one more step, something would open.

  Then he heard footsteps.

  Lucan pulled his hand back instantly.

  The light vanished as if it had never been there.

  A guard appeared at the end of the passage, frowning at him.

  “Are you lost?” he asked.

  Lucan swallowed.

  “Yes,” he replied quickly. “I was… trying to find my way back.”

  The guard glanced at the wall for a second, noticing nothing unusual.

  “This isn’t a passageway. Head back the way you came.”

  “Of course. Thank you.”

  Lucan turned without looking back, walking with forced calm until he rounded the corner. Only then did he breathe again.

  The rest of the walk back was silent.

  In his room, he fell onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. The Seal was quiet once more.

  But not asleep.

  Alert.

  Lucan closed his eyes briefly and rested his hand over his chest.

  “You’re not just a mark… are you?” he whispered. “What are you, really?”

  The Seal didn’t answer.

  But for the first time, Lucan was certain of something.

  He wasn’t remembering his past.

  But he might be starting to touch it.

  End of Chapter 11