Nox Sillon (7)

Nox walked through the halls of the estate with measured steps, his mind already anticipating the meeting ahead.

The faint echo of his boots against the polished stone was the only sound between him and Yeni, who followed in quiet observation.

The estate was awake now—servants moving swiftly to their duties, the scent of freshly baked bread mingling with the crisp morning air.

Outside, the mist of dawn still lingered in the garden, curling around the trimmed hedges and statues like phantom tendrils reluctant to vanish under the rising sun.

Yet despite the calm, there was an unmistakable shift in the air.

A presence.

Lord Darius Windsor.

His uncle.

His father's brother.

From another mother.

And a man who did nothing without reason.

Nox reached the towering doors of the great hall, where two attendants stood on either side, their backs straight, their expressions carefully neutral.

Their gazes flickered to him, then quickly away, as they pushed the heavy doors open with a smooth, practiced motion.

Inside, Lord Darius sat comfortably in one of the grand chairs, one arm draped casually over the side.

He was a man of presence—tall and broad-shouldered, his high-collared coat adorned with silver filigree that caught the morning light.

His dark eyes, keen and unreadable, locked onto Nox the moment he entered.

For a brief second, silence settled between them.

A measuring pause.

Then, Darius smiled.

"Nephew,"

He said, his voice carrying the refined weight of nobility.

"It has been too long."

Nox stepped forward, his expression unreadable.

"Lord Windsor."

A flicker of amusement crossed Darius's face.

"Still as formal as ever, I see."

He gestured to the seat opposite him.

"Sit."

Nox obeyed, lowering himself onto the chair with controlled grace.

Yeni remained standing behind him, silent but ever watchful.

Darius studied him with the patience of a man accustomed to control.

His fingers tapped lightly against the armrest, his lips curving into a faint smirk.

"I have heard… interesting things,"

Hee said finally. "Rumors amongthe nobles, if you will."

Nox met his gaze without hesitation.

"Rumors are often unreliable."

Darius chuckled—a low, knowing sound.

"True. But I find that where there is smoke, there is usually fire."

He leaned forward slightly, his posture relaxed but his words sharp.

"You're different from before."

Nox remained composed.

"Am I?"

Darius tilted his head slightly.

"You tell me."

Silence stretched between them—calculated, weighted.

Then, finally, Darius exhaled, his fingers intertwining as he rested his hands on his lap.

"I have an offer,"

He said smoothly.

Nox's fingers curled subtly against the armrest, but his expression did not waver.

Darius's voice lowered, deliberate and measured.

"One that concerns your future."

A Game of Intentions

Nox didn't answer immediately.

He let the words settle, testing their weight.

Darius Windsor was not a man who spoke lightly.

Every word was placed with purpose, every pause intentional.

And he had not come here for pleasantries.

Finally, Nox spoke.

"My future,"

He echoed, his tone careful.

"What interest does House Windsor have in it?"

Darius smiled, a sharp thing.

"The same interest we always have in our bloodline."

Nox held his gaze, unwavering.

"You've been making progress,"

Darius continued.

"Your control over mana—your techniques—have… changed. Evolved."

He tapped a single finger against the armrest.

"That is not the work of mere discipline. Something shifted. Something made you re-evaluate your methods."

He leaned in slightly, his presence pressing, a storm behind his eyes.

"And I want to know why."

Nox did not respond immediately.

He felt Yeni's presence beside him—silent, but her gaze was unwavering.

Finally, he exhaled.

"Change is inevitable."

Darius smirked.

"A convenient answer."

A moment of quiet.

Then, Darius leaned back.

"Regardless, you have potential. More than I anticipated."

He steepled his fingers together, regarding Nox with something akin to interest.

"I am assembling a group,"

He said, his voice casual, yet weighted.

"A select few, handpicked for their talents, their potential. Individuals who will shape the tides of power in the coming years."

His eyes locked onto Nox's.

"I want you among them."

A stillness settled over the room.

Yeni's expression remained unreadable, but her shoulders tensed ever so slightly.

Nox, however, did not react.

He knew better than to answer quickly.

"…And what does this 'group' aim to accomplish?"

Darius smiled, but it was more akin to a blade being sharpened.

"Influence,"

He said simply.

"Power."

He gestured vaguely with one hand.

"The world is shifting, Nox. The old systems are rotting from within. New forces rise while others crumble."

His gaze sharpened.

"The wise do not wait for fate to decide their course."

He leaned forward slightly.

"They shape it themselves."

A pause.

Then, smoothly, as if the words had always been meant to be spoken—

"Will you?"

The Weight of Choice

Nox's fingers drummed once against the chair's armrest before stilling.

He did not believe in impulsive decisions.

Everything had weight.

Everything had consequence.

"…And if I refuse?"

Darius chuckled, unbothered.

"Then you walk your own path. The choice is yours."

A pause.

"But understand this, nephew."

His voice, still calm, lowered ever so slightly.

"Opportunities are not given endlessly. The tides will shift—with or without you."

The meaning was clear.

Nox exhaled slowly.

Darius Windsor was not a man who extended his hand lightly. And when he did, it was never without expectation.

Power.

Influence.

Control.

They came at a cost.

He glanced at Yeni briefly. She did not speak, but her gaze held quiet understanding.

Finally, he turned back to Darius.

"…I will consider it."

Darius's smirk widened, though his eyes remained sharp.

"Good."

He rose to his feet, smoothing the folds of his coat.

"Think carefully, Nox."

He adjusted his gloves with an idle motion.

"The world moves swiftly."

With that, he turned, stepping toward the doors.

But just before exiting, he paused.

Glanced over his shoulder.

And with a knowing, measured tone—

"You remind me of your father, Aldric."

Then, he left.

The doors shut behind him, leaving a silence in his wake.

Yeni remained still for a long moment before finally speaking.

"…He came prepared."

Nox exhaled, his gaze lingering on the empty space where Darius had stood.

"He always does."

Yeni's arms crossed lightly.

"You know what he's doing."

"Of course,"

Nox said simply.

"It's a game."

A pause.

"And now, I must decide whether to play."

The air between them was heavy with unspoken thoughts.

Finally, Yeni sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

"This is why I hate politics."

Nox allowed himself a small smirk.

"And yet, you remain here."

Yeni scoffed.

"Because someone has to keep you from losing your mind."

A quiet moment.

Then, Nox rose from his chair, rolling his shoulders.

For now, the conversation was over.

But the choice lingered, waiting to be made.

And no matter what he decided—

The tides would not wait.