Chapter 4: The Nameless and the Marked

Nyx was unlike any other gryphon. Even after a few weeks, Aris still marveled at how small she was compared to the towering beasts her parents rode. Yet, despite her size, Nyx carried herself with an air of quiet strength, her dark feathers sleek and shimmering under the soft glow of the lanterns.

The bond they shared was unlike anything Aris had ever known. It was strange, hearing another voice in her head—Nyx's voice. At first, it had startled her, the way the little gryphon's thoughts intertwined with her own. But now, it was comforting. Nyx was always there. Always watching. Always listening.

She was more than just a pet. She was a companion, a shadow that never left her side. And though Nyx was still too young to fly or fight, Aris felt safer with her near.

Tonight, as Aris sat on the floor of her chamber, running her fingers over the dark markings that stretched from her wrist to her elbow, she thought of the moment she had first touched Nyx. Of the warmth that had spread through her veins. Of the way the world had shifted in an instant.

She had never felt more alive.

Yet, despite the joy Nyx brought her, there was something else creeping at the edges of her thoughts—an unease she could not name.

Part 1: The Girl and the Gryphon

Days passed, then weeks. Life settled into a new rhythm—one that included Nyx at her side.

Aris spent her mornings training with Rael in the courtyard behind the stables, her wooden sword clashing against his with steady determination. She was getting stronger, her movements sharper, her balance better. But she still had much to learn.

Nyx watched her with curious golden eyes, her small wings fluttering whenever Aris swung too hard and lost her footing. You look funny when you fall, Nyx's voice teased in her mind one morning, making Aris groan in frustration.

"I wouldn't fall if Rael would go easy on me," she muttered aloud.

Rael smirked, lowering his sword. "If I go easy on you, how will you ever learn?"

Aris huffed but didn't argue. Instead, she wiped the sweat from her brow and raised her wooden sword again. She wanted to be strong—not just for herself, but for Nyx too.

By midday, she would retreat indoors, where her mother awaited her with fresh clothes and a warm meal. Lady Kael never failed to greet her with a soft smile, brushing Aris's damp hair away from her face before sitting her down for lunch.

"You're growing stronger," her mother observed one afternoon, carefully braiding her hair into a long plait. "Rael says you never give up, no matter how many times you fall."

Aris puffed out her chest with pride. "I won't stop until I'm the best swordfighter in the empire."

Her mother chuckled. "And what about your studies?"

Aris wrinkled her nose. "They're not as fun."

Lady Kael gave her a look, one that made Aris lower her head slightly. "You must be clever as well as strong, little one. A sharp mind is just as powerful as a sharp blade."

Aris sighed, picking at her food. "I know…"

Nyx, curled up at her feet, gave a small chirp of amusement. She sounds just like Rael.

Her mother smiled knowingly, pressing a kiss to the top of Aris's head before standing. "Finish eating. I'll bring you a book later—one about gryphons and their riders. Perhaps you'll find it more interesting than history lessons."

That got Aris's attention. She nodded eagerly, shoveling the rest of her food into her mouth.

She wanted to know more about the bond she shared with Nyx. About what it meant.

Because deep down, Aris knew Nyx wasn't just any gryphon.

And that made her wonder… what did that make her?

Part 2: The Bond Between Them

Aris spent her afternoons with Nyx, watching the young gryphon explore the world around her. She was still small—barely reaching Aris's waist—but she was growing fast.

Nyx was curious about everything. She poked at the flowers in the courtyard, chased butterflies with playful chirps, and even tried to pounce on Aris's wooden sword when she left it unattended.

But what fascinated Aris most was how Nyx reacted to her training.

The young gryphon would sit beside her, watching intently as she practiced swordplay with Rael. Whenever Aris stumbled, Nyx would let out an impatient huff, as if she wanted to step in and correct her. And sometimes, she would flap her small wings excitedly, trying to mimic Aris's movements.

Why do you do this every day? Nyx asked one afternoon, tilting her head as Aris wiped sweat from her brow.

"Because I want to be strong," Aris answered simply.

Nyx blinked. You're already strong.

Aris frowned, tightening her grip on her sword. "Not strong enough."

Nyx was quiet for a moment. Then she stood, stretching her wings. Then I'll be strong too.

And with that, the young gryphon crouched down and leapt into the air.

For a brief second, she soared—her wings catching the wind, her body weightless against the sky.

But it didn't last.

With a startled yelp, Nyx tumbled back to the ground, landing in a clumsy heap.

Aris gasped. "Nyx!"

I'm fine! Nyx huffed, untangling her limbs. I just… didn't do it right.

Aris knelt beside her, running her hand over Nyx's soft feathers. "You'll get better. Just like I will."

Nyx's golden eyes met hers, filled with determination. Then we'll both train. Together.

Aris smiled. "Together."

As the sun began to set, the two of them sat side by side, watching the sky turn shades of orange and violet.

She had always wanted a friend.

And now, she had one.

Part 3: A World Beyond the Estate

Days passed, turning into weeks, and Aris's life settled into a routine. She trained with Rael in the mornings, spent time with Nyx in the afternoons, and had quiet moments with her mother in the evenings.

But despite the comfort of familiarity, something began to stir inside her.

A longing.

She had spent her entire life within the walls of the Kael estate. She knew every corridor, every garden, every hidden passage. She knew the scent of her mother's perfume, the sound of Rael's voice when he corrected her stance, the way the wind carried the distant cries of gryphons from the stables.

But she knew nothing of the world beyond.

She had read about it in books—the grand cities, the bustling markets, the towering castles of the empire. She imagined streets filled with people, the sound of laughter and music, the smell of food she had never tasted.

She wanted to see it for herself.

One morning, as she sat in the courtyard brushing Nyx's feathers, she spoke her thoughts aloud.

"I want to go beyond the estate."

Nyx, who had been lazily grooming herself, lifted her head. What's stopping you?

Aris sighed, hugging her knees. "My parents."

Nyx considered this for a moment, then flicked her tail. You could sneak out.

Aris laughed. "And where would I go?"

Nyx tilted her head. Where do people go when they leave?

"The market, I suppose."

Then let's go there.

Aris looked at her, startled. "Nyx, I was joking."

I wasn't.

Aris hesitated. The idea was tempting. The thought of slipping through the gates, of walking among real people, of seeing something—anything—beyond these walls.

But it was dangerous.

She sighed. "I can't."

Nyx's ears drooped slightly. Why?

Aris didn't answer right away. Instead, she reached out and stroked Nyx's head.

Because if she left… she might never be able to come back.

And she wasn't ready for that.

Not yet.

Part 4: Whispers of the Empire

While Aris remained confined to the safety of the Kael estate, the world beyond its walls was anything but quiet.

The empire was vast, stretching across mountains, rivers, and endless plains, its power held firm under the rule of the Valmyr dynasty. It was a land of wealth and beauty, but also of struggle—where nobility thrived in excess while the commoners fought for survival.

And in the heart of one of the empire's bustling cities, survival meant knowing when to take risks.

The Market Thief

Sorei crouched behind a stack of wooden crates, her small hands trembling as she clutched the hem of her tattered cloak. The smell of fresh bread and roasted meat filled the air, making her stomach twist painfully.

She couldn't afford to hesitate.

Orin was waiting for her.

Her twin brother had been sick for days, too weak to even sit up. She had tried to find honest work, but no one would hire a child with no family, no status, and no name worth remembering.

And so, she had no choice.

She adjusted the mask covering the lower half of her face, ensuring it hid as much of her features as possible. Her heart pounded as she scanned the marketplace, searching for an opening.

The baker had turned away, laughing at something a noblewoman said.

Now.

Sorei darted forward, quick as a shadow. Her fingers found the warm crust of a loaf, snatching it before her mind could catch up. She turned to flee, but—

"Hey!"

A hand grabbed for her wrist.

Panic exploded in her chest. She twisted, breaking free, her bare feet slapping against the cobbled street as she sprinted through the maze of vendors and carts.

The shouts followed her.

"She stole from me!"

"Catch that little rat!"

"Stop, thief!"

Sorei's breath came in sharp gasps. She shoved past a man carrying a crate of apples, ducked beneath a merchant's stall, and vaulted over a stack of baskets. She could hear footsteps behind her, heavy and fast.

A dead end loomed ahead.

No. No, no, no.

She pivoted sharply, knocking over a table in her desperate attempt to change direction. The vendor cursed at her, but she didn't stop. She slipped between two buildings, the narrow space barely wide enough for her small frame.

The footsteps behind her hesitated.

Too big to follow.

She didn't slow until she was certain no one was chasing her.

Her body trembled from exhaustion, but she forced herself to move. She had done it. She had the bread.

Now, she just had to get home.

A Brother's Concern

Sorei slipped through the entrance of a crumbling building, her chest still heaving. Dim light filtered through the broken windows, casting long shadows against the stone walls.

A weak voice greeted her.

"Sorei?"

She turned to see Orin sitting up—or at least trying to. His skin was pale, his lips dry and cracked.

"You shouldn't be moving," she scolded, setting the bread down and kneeling beside him.

Orin frowned. "You stole again."

Sorei ignored the accusation, tearing off a piece of the bread and holding it out. "Eat."

He didn't take it. "You're going to get caught one day."

She sighed, placing the bread in his lap. "Not today."

Orin's expression softened, but the worry didn't leave his eyes. He picked up the piece of bread and took a slow bite.

Sorei leaned back against the wall, exhaustion weighing on her.

One day, she would find a better way to survive.

But until then, she would do whatever it took.

Even if it meant becoming a ghost in the streets.

Part 5: The Prince's World

While the commoners fought for scraps, the nobility lived in a different world—one of polished marble, whispered ambitions, and carefully cultivated power.

Within the grand halls of the Imperial Academy, the next generation of rulers, warriors, and scholars honed their skills. And among them was the empire's crown prince.

Kaelion Valmyr

Kaelion Valmyr sat at the head of a long table, idly twirling a quill between his fingers. The lecture hall around him was filled with sons and daughters of noble houses, each dressed in fine tunics embroidered with their family sigils. The instructor droned on about historical battle strategies, but Kaelion wasn't listening.

He didn't need to. He had studied this already.

His light blue eyes, the same shade as his mother's, flicked toward the large windows, where the sun cast long streaks of light across the marble floor. He was restless. Bored.

Across from him, Cyran Vale—a son of one of the most influential noble families—smirked knowingly. "Thinking of sneaking out again?" he whispered under his breath.

Kaelion smirked back. "If this lecture drags on any longer, I just might."

Cyran chuckled, earning a sharp glance from the instructor. Kaelion merely leaned back in his chair, unfazed.

The class eventually ended, and Kaelion stretched as they walked through the academy corridors, passing groups of students engaged in quiet conversation.

Cyran fell into step beside him. "Did you hear about the raid in the lower districts?"

Kaelion's smirk faded. "Another one?"

"Last night. The enforcers were looking for that 'nameless child' again. Didn't find anything."

Kaelion scoffed. "Of course they didn't. It's been years. Whoever that child was, they're either dead or too well-hidden for the king's men to find."

Cyran shrugged. "The king seems to think otherwise."

Kaelion exhaled sharply. He was tired of hearing about the nameless child. A child born without a mark. A child who shouldn't exist.

A child who, if they were ever found, would be executed without question.

The topic left an uneasy feeling in his chest, one he couldn't quite place.

He pushed the thought away. "Enough about that. We have training soon, don't we?"

Cyran grinned. "We do. And I fully intend to beat you this time."

Kaelion chuckled, his mood lightening. "You can try."

As they walked toward the training grounds, the empire's politics and shadows remained behind them.

For now.

Final Part: Bonds and Bloodlines

The sound of clashing wood echoed through the courtyard as Kaelion moved swiftly, his practice sword meeting Cyran's with a sharp crack. The two boys circled each other, their footwork light, their movements fluid despite the weight of the wooden blades. Around them, Rowan, Elaine, and Selene stood on the sidelines, watching with keen eyes, waiting for their turn.

Kaelion had sparred against Cyran countless times before, but today, Cyran was pushing him harder, forcing him to move faster. His friend's sharp green eyes were steady, calculating every move with precision.

"You're hesitating," Cyran noted, parrying a strike and stepping to the side.

Kaelion smirked, adjusting his grip. "No, I'm waiting."

He feinted left, then twisted, catching Cyran off guard. A well-placed strike landed against his friend's ribs, and Cyran grunted, stepping back. A small nod of acknowledgment passed between them before they reset their stance.

"You're both too predictable," Rowan called from the sidelines, arms crossed. His golden-brown eyes glinted with amusement. "Try something new."

Elaine rolled her eyes. "Says the one who got knocked flat on his back by Cyran last week."

Selene chuckled, arms folded. "And the one who lost to Kaelion twice."

Rowan huffed. "That was last week. I've improved."

Kaelion smirked, but before he could respond, Cyran lunged at him again. Their wooden swords met in a flurry of quick strikes. Kaelion's dark curls clung to his forehead, damp with sweat, but he didn't let up. He could feel his strength growing with every sparring session.

From the terrace above, noble instructors observed the training, murmuring amongst themselves. The Valmyr prince was strong, quick, and disciplined—everything expected of a future ruler. But it wasn't just him. His friends were proving their worth too.

A final clash, and Cyran's sword was knocked from his grip. Kaelion had won.

Cyran exhaled sharply before shaking his head with a small smile. "You're getting better."

Kaelion grinned. "I know."

The others laughed as they stepped forward, Rowan eager to take the next match. The sun hung high in the sky, the sounds of practice filling the courtyard. Their training would continue, their rivalries sharpening them for the future. But for now, they were still boys—heirs to great houses, friends bound by loyalty, and competitors pushing one another toward excellence.