Buried truths

The small room behind the forge was cluttered with tools, half-finished weapons, and crates of supplies, but it was the heavy silence that weighed on Elara the most. The door had barely shut behind them when Garrick turned, arms crossed, his face unreadable.

"You shouldn't have come," he repeated.

Elara ignored the warning. "I need answers."

Garrick exhaled through his nose, his gaze shifting briefly to Keshav, who stood by the door, watching everything with quiet intensity.

"Elara, what have you done?" Garrick's voice was low, laced with something between frustration and concern.

"I joined the knights," she said simply. "I did what I had to."

Garrick let out a humorless chuckle, rubbing a hand over his face. "Damn stubborn, just like your mother."

Elara's chest tightened. "Then you should understand why I need to know the truth. About the Forgotten Sons. About the Valerius name."

Garrick's entire body stiffened at the mention of Valerius. His jaw clenched, and for the first time, true hesitation flickered in his eyes.

"Elara…" He shook his head. "You don't understand what you're asking."

"Then help me understand!" Her voice rose slightly, frustration mounting. "The journal I found—it mentions the Forgotten Sons, it mentions our family. I know you've been hiding something from me my entire life, and I need to know what it is."

Garrick was silent for a long moment. Then, finally, he sat down heavily on a wooden stool, exhaling as if the weight of the past had suddenly become too much to carry.

"The Valerius name used to mean something," he said slowly. "Before the war. Before everything changed." His fingers tightened around the edge of the table. "Our family served the kingdom for generations. Warriors. Commanders. Some of the greatest knights in history bore our name."

Elara swallowed hard, her heart pounding. "Then what happened?"

Garrick's expression darkened. "Betrayal."

Elara felt Keshav shift slightly beside her, his posture straightening as he listened.

"The king we once served turned on us," Garrick continued. "Declared us traitors. Our lands were stripped, our people scattered. Those who survived either fled or… fought back."

"The Forgotten Sons," Elara whispered.

Garrick nodded grimly. "A rebellion formed from the remnants of our house. Some wanted justice. Others wanted revenge. It didn't matter in the end. The rebellion was crushed, and those who bore the Valerius name were hunted." He met her gaze, his voice heavy with warning. "That's why I hid who we were. Why I kept you away from all of this."

Elara's hands clenched at her sides. "You think I can just walk away now? I'm already in the middle of it. Damien—" She stopped herself, hesitating.

Garrick's eyes sharpened. "Damien what?"

Elara hesitated, but she couldn't keep the truth from him. "He knows something's off. He's watching me."

Garrick swore under his breath. "Damien Aldric is not a man you want suspicious of you, Elara. If he finds out the truth—"

"I can handle it," she interrupted, lifting her chin.

Garrick studied her for a long time before shaking his head. "I should've known you wouldn't listen."

A sharp knock at the door made them all tense.

Elara's breath caught. No one was supposed to know they were here.

Garrick motioned for silence, grabbing a dagger from the workbench as he moved toward the door.

Keshav stepped in front of Elara instinctively.

Another knock. More insistent this time.

Garrick hesitated for only a second before cracking the door open.

The moment he did, a voice rang out—low and laced with authority.

"Elijah."

Elara's blood ran cold.

Damien.