Heirs and Schemes

Chapter 7 – Heirs and Schemes

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Rindell Palace – The Next Morning

The palace halls shimmered under soft sunlight pouring through grand archways. Silver chandeliers hung from vaulted ceilings, and enchanted drapes shifted faintly with every warm breeze that slipped through the balcony gardens. The scent of rose-thistle and star-lilies lingered in the air, chased by the whisper of enchantments keeping the palace perpetually pristine.

Selene walked those halls like she always had—elegant, poised, untouchable.

And yet today… something inside her was not untouched.

Her thoughts drifted like mist, always returning to the name—Aeron.

He had haunted her dreams last night.

Not in fear.

Not in guilt.

But as something else.

Something half-remembered… something dangerously familiar.

She pressed her fingers to her lips, as if trying to trap the memory before it slipped again. There had been snow in the dream… and blood. His blood. Her own hands trembling.

When she awoke, she had been cold.

In her chambers, she had found herself drawn to an old velvet box. Inside was a pendant—worn silver etched with a barely legible crest. She didn't know why she still had it. Aeron had given it to her once, back when… back when things were simpler.

Or perhaps more complicated.

She wasn't ready to admit it aloud.

Not yet.

But something had awakened. And it wasn't going back to sleep.

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Council Chambers – A Royal Conspiracy

Meanwhile, deep within the palace's central wing, a meeting of sharp minds and sharper ambitions unfolded.

A round marble table gleamed beneath floating mana globes. Seated around it were seven high-ranking nobles—dukes, archmages, military generals. Their eyes glittered with the quiet calculation of predators.

At the head sat Duke Elric Veylen, advisor to the king and master manipulator of palace politics.

He steepled his fingers, the silence oppressive.

"I trust we're all aware of what happened yesterday."

An old general leaned forward, brows furrowed. "The Blackthorn boy. The one who refused to kneel."

"Refused to grovel," corrected Lord Grevon, adjusting his silk cuffs. "There's a difference."

A cough echoed from another chair.

"That's no ordinary boy anymore," said Archmage Tylaen, voice low and clipped. "He exudes something ancient. Something… volatile."

Duke Veylen's thin smile deepened. "Exactly. The child of a disgraced house now bears a power that rivals even the Circle-bound."

A sharp intake of breath followed.

"And what do you suggest?" Tylaen asked. "If he's touched by forbidden magic…"

"We don't strike yet," Veylen said. "We watch. He is bait. If something ancient chose him, others may reveal themselves in his presence."

Lord Grevon frowned. "That's a dangerous gamble."

"Politics is built on dangerous gambles," Veylen replied calmly.

"And the Princess?" Tylaen's eyes narrowed. "She's taken a sudden interest in him. That much is obvious."

A long pause followed. Only the hum of the mana globes filled the silence.

"She always had a soft spot for broken things," Veylen said at last. "Let her draw close. Let her feel something. If he truly carries echoes of the past… she may be our key to unlocking them."

A silence followed, colder than before.

And not a single voice objected.

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Blackthorn Carriage – Academy Grounds Arrival

The carriage rolled to a stop before the towering gates of the Royal Academy. Spires reached toward the clouds, arcane glyphs glowing faintly along their ridges. Sentries clad in silver armor stood flanking the entrance, their gazes unflinching.

Aeron stepped out.

The murmurs began immediately.

"Is that him…?"

"Blackthorn's disgrace?"

"No, idiot—he's the one who stared down the Rindell heir yesterday."

"He's hot…"

"Terrifying."

"He walks like a warlord. What the hell happened to him?"

Aeron didn't flinch beneath their words. His black-trimmed silver uniform hugged his form—tailored to perfection. His mana pulsed silently beneath the Nullseal Rune embedded in his gloves, obscuring his true presence.

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[Status Update – Public Concealment: Active]

Mage Class: Undisclosed

Void Signature: Masked

Influence in Academy: 4.5%

...

Each step he took echoed with intent. His presence, once mocked, now drew attention like a slow-burning flame. Not yet a blaze, but inevitable.

A figure stepped into his path.

Tall. Platinum-blonde. Cold green eyes. Cloak embroidered with the sigil of House Rindell.

Duke Lysander Rindell.

Selene's older brother. Commander of the Palace Guard. Second Circle High Mage.

"I thought the heir of Blackthorn would crawl in late," Lysander said, voice clipped. "Seems I gave you too much credit."

Aeron tilted his head. "That's because you still think in ranks… not results."

Lysander's brow twitched. "Be careful, Blackthorn. A cracked crest doesn't grant you a sharp tongue."

Aeron stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Neither does wearing your sister's chain."

The tension hit like thunder.

Lysander's fingers twitched toward his blade.

Aeron didn't back away. "Tell me… how tightly does Selene pull it? Or does she not bother?"

A breath—sharp. But Lysander didn't move further. Couldn't. Not here.

Aeron smirked and walked past.

Each step left echoes.

Each step planted rumors.

And Lysander, for the first time in years, stood without a clever reply.

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Academy Library – Moonlight Between Aisles

Night fell.

The lower wing of the Academy Library was cold, quiet, and forgotten. Shelves lined with ancient tomes loomed like sleeping titans, their runes sealed by time and blood.

Aeron moved like shadow. His fingers grazed spines, pausing when one whispered back.

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[Void Sync Activated – Archive Reading Mode: Stealth]

Then—movement.

Subtle, practiced. Yet not unseen.

"Stalking is unbecoming for a princess," he said without turning.

A soft gasp.

She stepped into view.

Selene.

Hair like woven silver. Robes of midnight blue. Eyes like moonlight on still water.

"How did you know I was there?" she asked, voice quiet but strained.

"Your mana smells like frost and roses," Aeron replied, smirking. "Hard to miss."

She blinked, cheeks coloring faintly.

Their gazes met under the light of the stained-glass windows above.

"Why are you here?" she asked.

"I could ask the same."

"You remember things. Things I shouldn't. I see them… in dreams. In flashes."

"I never said I'd explain," he said. "But your soul remembers. Even if your mind lies."

Selene's hands clenched. "You speak in riddles."

"You live in denial," Aeron replied gently.

Then, he reached out—just barely grazing her fingertips.

And the world shifted.

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[Past-Life Resonance – 23%]

Memory Sync Unlocked: Snowfall Before the Fall

A flash.

Snow. Screams. Blood.

A battlefield. Selene stood—cut, shaking, holding a dying Aeron in her arms.

"Forgive me," she whispered.

"I already have," the vision Aeron replied.

The vision shattered.

Selene staggered back, breath ragged. "What… was that?!"

"Truth," Aeron said. "Yours. Mine. Ours."

She shook her head. "You're dangerous."

Aeron's eyes softened. "So is love. So is betrayal."

He turned and vanished into the maze of shelves, his shadow swallowed by the dark.

Selene stood there, trembling—tears unshed, heart pounding.

For the first time in her life, the princess didn't know whether she wanted to run from the past…

Or run toward it.

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Void System Update

Affinity with Selene: 3.6 / 10

Emotional State: Conflicted → Intrigued

Memory Merge: 24%

Harem Points: +85

Hidden Trigger: Awakened Jealousy from Others – In Progress…

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