Chapter 9: The Price of Defiance

The tension in the grand hall was suffocating. Every noble's eyes were locked onto Lucian, but none dared to speak. The power that had just surged from him—the abyssal force that had momentarily torn reality itself—left a lingering weight in the air.

Even the strongest among them felt it.

Lucian inhaled sharply, steadying himself. His crest still burned, but the oppressive voice from the abyss had faded. He had resisted. He had defied. But for how long?

Varian studied him, his sharp silver eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Remarkable…" he mused. "I truly didn't expect you to push back."

Lucian clenched his jaw. "You expected me to give in?"

"Oh, not at all." Varian smiled, his expression unreadable. "I simply wondered if you'd survive it."

Lucian's hands curled into fists. "Then I guess I disappointed you."

Varian chuckled, the sound smooth and unbothered. "On the contrary, you've intrigued me even more." His gaze flicked toward the nobles, some of whom were still visibly shaken. "But I believe we've caused enough of a scene."

Duke Reynard finally spoke, his deep voice cutting through the silence. "Lucian."

Lucian turned toward his father, his expression unreadable. He had no idea what the man was thinking. Did he approve? Was he angry? Or was he simply… wary?

But the duke's words surprised him.

"You will meet me in my study. Alone."

A ripple of murmurs spread among the nobles.

Lucian narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

Reynard's gaze was cold. "Because you deserve to know the truth."

Lucian's heartbeat quickened. The truth?

Before he could respond, his father stood, signaling that the gathering was over. The nobles hesitated before dispersing, some whispering among themselves, others casting cautious glances at Lucian.

Seraphine lingered, her crimson gaze unreadable. She wanted to say something—Lucian could tell—but she simply turned and left.

Varian, however, remained.

He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only Lucian could hear.

"You will understand soon, nephew," he murmured. "You cannot run from what you are."

Lucian met his gaze, unflinching. "Watch me."

Varian smirked. "Oh, I will." And with that, he strode away, his coat billowing behind him.

The hall was nearly empty now.

Lucian exhaled slowly.

Sylphira, Nyx, and Lys surrounded him immediately.

"That was dangerous," Sylphira said, her golden eyes filled with worry. "I don't know what that thing was, but you shouldn't have fought it alone."

Nyx crossed her arms, tilting her head. "I hate to say it, master, but she's right. That thing? It wanted you."

Lys was unusually serious, her fingers tracing the air as if testing for any lingering spatial distortions. "It wasn't just a force, Lucian. It was a will. Something old. Something that has been waiting."

Lucian exhaled. "I know."

He didn't need them to tell him that whatever was inside him, whatever he had inherited, wasn't normal.

He had felt it.

And worst of all—

It had recognized him.

Lucian glanced at the massive doors leading to his father's study.

It was time to learn the truth.

The study was dimly lit, the flickering flames from the fireplace casting long shadows across the mahogany walls. Shelves of ancient tomes lined the room, the scent of parchment and aged ink thick in the air.

Lucian stood before his father, his gaze unwavering.

The duke was silent for a long moment before he finally spoke.

"You felt it, didn't you?"

Lucian's breath was slow, measured. "You knew this would happen."

Reynard's jaw tightened. "I hoped it wouldn't. But fate is cruel."

Lucian clenched his fists. "Enough cryptic words. Tell me what's happening."

Reynard sighed, standing from his desk. He walked toward a shelf and pulled out a single book—an old, leather-bound tome with the Ashford crest embossed in silver.

He placed it before Lucian.

"This," he said, "is the true history of our bloodline."

Lucian hesitated before flipping it open. The pages were worn, the ink slightly faded, but the words were still clear.

And what they described—

Was terrifying.

The Ashfords were never meant to be normal summoners.

They were meant to be gatekeepers.

Long ago, their ancestors had struck a forbidden pact with an entity beyond comprehension. An Abyssal Monarch—a being of pure chaos. The pact granted them summoning abilities far beyond normal summoners. But there was a cost.

The first-born of every Ashford generation was bound to the abyss.

They weren't summoners.

They were vessels.

Lucian's blood ran cold.

A vessel…?

He flipped another page, his breath catching as he read further.

Not every first-born succumbed. Some resisted, breaking away from the abyssal influence. Those who did summoned something else instead—something pure, something untouched by darkness.

Lucian's hands trembled.

The fairies.

That was why his summons were different.

He had broken away from the fate that was meant for him.

Reynard watched him carefully. "Now you understand."

Lucian closed the book, inhaling deeply. His mind was a storm of thoughts.

"…If I break the cycle, will I be free?"

Reynard's gaze darkened. "No one knows. You're the first to summon fairies instead of abyssal creatures. You've already shattered expectations."

Lucian exhaled. "Then I'll keep shattering them."

A flicker of something—perhaps pride, perhaps sorrow—passed through Reynard's eyes.

"I will protect you for as long as I can," the duke said, his voice quieter now. "But the abyss wants you back. And soon… it will come for you."

Lucian met his father's gaze, unwavering. "Then let it come."

Reynard studied him for a long moment before finally nodding.

"Very well."

Lucian turned toward the door. He had what he needed.

The truth.

But the path forward?

It was more uncertain than ever.

As he stepped out of the study, a thought crossed his mind.

He wasn't just going to survive.

He was going to win.

No matter what it took.