Chapter 6: The Ashford Secret

The grand hall fell into a suffocating silence.

Lucian could feel the weight of hundreds of gazes pressing against him—some filled with awe, others with fear, and a few with pure, venomous jealousy.

At the heart of it all, he stood alone.

Well, not entirely alone.

His fairies—Sylphira, Nyx, and Lys—stood close, their presence both reassuring and provocative. Their beauty, their power, and their existence had turned this noble gathering into something far more than just a show of strength.

It had become a spectacle.

A scandal.

And perhaps, most dangerously—

A threat.

Seraphine, her crimson gown shimmering under the flickering chandelier light, seethed. Her emerald eyes, sharp enough to cut steel, locked onto Nyx. Her fingers curled into fists, nails digging into her palm.

"You don't get to act so smug," Seraphine said, voice like a blade drawn from its sheath. Her gaze flicked to Lucian, filled with a mixture of anger and something else—something she didn't want to admit. "Summoned creatures are tools, nothing more. Their power comes from their master. And you—" her voice turned cold— "you are still nothing."

Nyx merely smiled, her fangs glinting. Shadows curled around her like a lover's embrace. "Oh, darling," she purred, taking a step forward. "You seem confused." Her crimson eyes gleamed with amusement as she reached out and placed a cool hand on Lucian's shoulder. "He doesn't need to command me. I want to follow him." She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "Unlike you."

A sharp intake of breath rippled through the crowd.

Lucian could feel Seraphine's fury like heat rising from a fire.

The air in the hall tightened, tension so thick it was nearly suffocating.

Before Seraphine could react, another voice cut through the air.

A slow, measured chuckle.

Lucian's uncle, Varian.

The man strode forward, his presence oozing a quiet menace. His silver eyes, sharp and calculating, flicked between Lucian and his fairies before settling on his nephew with a smirk.

"Now, now," Varian murmured, his deep voice carrying effortlessly through the hall. "Let's not get too emotional. There are far more interesting matters at hand." His gaze lingered on Lucian, something unreadable glinting in his eyes. "Wouldn't you agree, dear nephew?"

Lucian stiffened.

There was something in his uncle's tone. Something… knowing.

The kind of knowing that sent a chill down his spine.

Varian stepped closer, his heavy boots echoing against the marble floor. "Tell me, Lucian," he said casually, as if discussing the weather. "Have you ever wondered why your summons are so… unique?"

The question struck like a dagger.

Lucian's fingers twitched.

Of course, he had wondered. It had gnawed at him since the moment he had summoned them. No one in recorded history had ever summoned fairies. Not even legendary summoners.

And yet, he had done it.

Varian chuckled at his silence. "You have wondered. Good. That means you're not completely oblivious." His gaze darkened, a smirk curling his lips. "But tell me, dear nephew—do you truly believe it was mere luck?"

Lucian's heart pounded.

Before he could speak, Duke Reynard, his father, finally broke his silence.

"Varian." His voice was firm, laced with authority. "Enough."

Varian turned his head slightly, eyeing his older brother with amusement. "Oh, dear brother. You always did like keeping secrets."

Lucian's pulse quickened.

He turned to his father. "You knew?"

Duke Reynard's expression remained unreadable. His blue eyes, so similar to Lucian's, gave nothing away.

Seraphine's lips pressed into a thin line.

She knew, too.

Lucian's fists clenched. "What are you hiding from me?"

Before anyone could answer—

Pain.

A sudden, searing pain tore through Lucian's chest.

He gasped, staggering.

His fairies immediately reacted.

"Master!" Sylphira cried, reaching for him.

A strange force coiled around Lucian's body, squeezing his lungs, burrowing into his bones. He clutched his chest, breath ragged.

And then—

A mark.

Glowing, ancient, and wrong.

Etched into his skin.

The Ashford Crest—

But twisted.

Dark veins of magic pulsed through its intricate design, spreading like cracks across glass.

The nobles gasped.

Some stepped back, eyes wide with fear.

Even Duke Reynard's fingers curled slightly—a rare, almost imperceptible sign of tension.

Varian's smirk widened. "Ah," he murmured, tilting his head. "So it's true."

Lucian's breath hitched.

What the hell is this?

He turned to his father, his voice hoarse. "Father. What is this?"

Duke Reynard didn't answer.

Seraphine, however, did.

Her voice was quiet. But firm.

"You were never meant to summon fairies, Lucian."

Silence.

It was as if the entire hall held its breath.

Lucian's mind raced.

"What…?"

Seraphine's emerald eyes gleamed with something close to pity. "The Ashford bloodline has always produced summoners of unparalleled power," she said, her voice laced with something bitter. "But our summons have always been… monstrous. Beasts of destruction. Creatures meant for war."

Lucian's breath hitched.

That was true.

The Ashfords were known for summoning creatures of immense might—dragons, hellhounds, titans.

Not fairies.

Never fairies.

Seraphine's gaze flickered to his chest. To the mark. "And now we know why."

Lucian forced himself to stay steady. "What are you saying?"

Varian chuckled, slow and satisfied. "She's saying, dear nephew, that your summons shouldn't exist." His silver eyes gleamed. "And yet, they do." He took a step closer, voice dropping to a whisper.

"You are an anomaly, Lucian."

Lucian's stomach twisted.

"You weren't meant to be like this."

The chandeliers flickered. Shadows twisted unnaturally.

And then—

A whisper.

Dark. Ancient.

You are not the first, boy… but you will be the last.

Lucian's vision blurred.

His heart pounded.

And in that moment—

He realized this wasn't just about his summons anymore.

This was about him.

And the truth of what it meant to be an Ashford.