Sheltered

The distant thunder of hooves broke the quiet haze around us.

Through the trees emerged a squadron of riders, their silver-and-blue cloaks catching the last light of day. The emblem of Velhalen—a lion pierced by a flaming sword—fluttered on their banners.

Their leader dismounted swiftly, white hair streaming behind him.

"Prince Ashirion!" he called. "By order of Lord Ardyn, we've come to retrieve you!"

None of the guards even had the strength to respond. I just sat there, head heavy, the hum of magic still thrumming under my skin.

Mages jumped down from the second carriage and moved fast. Healing circles lit the clearing, cool waves of mana brushing across my limbs. One healer paused when she touchedy shoulder.

"…His flow is still reacting," she muttered under her breath.

"Mana shock?" another whispered.

"Possibly. But this… this is deeper."

I didn't say anything. Just closed my eyes and let the silence settle.

---

The ride to Velhalen felt like a dream. The breeze was cool, the road smooth, and the city on the horizon looked like something out of a storybook—white spires glowing beneath the early afternoon sun, waterfalls cascading down the cliffside edges, and floating crystal lanterns marking the boundaries of the sky.

As we passed through the golden gates of Uncle Ardyn's estate, the servants burst into motion. Word had reached ahead—Ashirion Vaelthorn Arkanis was returning. Alive.

I barely stepped down from the carriage when a familiar, dramatically loud voice rang across the garden.

"There you are, brat!" Uncle Ardyn's voice boomed across the garden, tearing through the silence like a warhorn.

Before I could blink, I was tackled.

Uncle Ardyn, the most powerful swordsman in Velhalen, was hugging me with all the grace of a drunken bear.

"Why didn't you breathe fire at them?! Or punch the fog?! I told you to always carry a backup sword, didn't I?!"

"Uncle—" I wheezed. "Lungs... lungs exist for breathing."

Kaela, his wife, walked over with calm steps, placing a soft hand on his arm.

She moved with grace, her posture composed—refined. If I didn't know better, I'd say she was the noble one between them.

"Let him go, love. He's not one of your sparring partners."

Ardyn sniffled dramatically and wiped his eyes. "I'm just glad he's safe…"

She smiled and kissed his cheek. "You're scaring him."

---

They led us inside to the healing chambers. The halls were carved with lightstone, and the air smelled of lavender and ancient magic.

Kaela personally checked Serianna's wounds, muttering incantations as healing circles floated above her hands. I watched silently from the other bed.

"There's turbulence in your flow," she told me as she examined my chest. "Like... something was woken up too fast."

"Can't imagine why," I replied dryly.

Serianna stirred and muttered, "If you do something reckless like that again, I'll melt this whole mansion."

Kaela chuckled. "She likes you."

I looked away, feeling the heat crawl up my neck. "Y-Yeah… maybe."

---

Later, after fresh clothes and awkward emotional checkups, a servant guided me down marble steps to the dining hall.

The feast was… extravagant.

Flames danced in glass orbs overhead, musicians played lutes enchanted to harmonize perfectly, and the long table was lined with roasted beasts, enchanted fruits, and wine that shimmered like molten gold.

Ardyn made a speech.

"I present my nephew! The boy who punched fog and survived!"

Everyone clapped. I nearly spit out my tea.

"Is that really the greatest swordsman of the realm?" I whispered to Serianna.

She rolled her eyes. "Unfortunately."

I caught her smiling, though.

As everyone laughed, ate, and chattered, I found myself glancing toward the empty space beside me. If my sisters were here, they'd be stealing fruit and making fun of Ardyn by now.

Next time, I promised silently. I'll bring them here. I'll show them this.

---

That night, under the silver stars, I stepped out onto the balcony. The wind brushed through my hair. Serianna was already asleep in the room behind me. The mansion was quiet now, the halls dim with floating lamps.

I stared at my hands. No glow. No fire. Just skin.

But I could feel it. The residue.

The pressure.

The memory of that moment. That power.

"Was that really... me?"