Seeing the question in Kael’s eyes, Bereon folded his hands calmly.

  "We're aware you have questions," he said. "We will answer them or at least those that can be answered at this stage."

  Kael frowned. So only the ones that suit them. In that regard, they’re no different from the Academy.

  He exhaled quietly and let his gaze wander over each of the Unspoken.

  “Where is Astra?” he finally asked. “I thought she’d be here with the rest of you.”

  The reactions that followed were telling.

  Varen’s stone-like expression flickered for the briefest moment.

  Sylas stopped cleaning his blade mid-stroke. For the first time, genuine interest lit his eyes.

  Marco raised an eyebrow, amused, while Mal let out a soft sigh, as if she had expected this question.

  Sera clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

  "Why is everyone obsessed with that icy woman?" she complained, flipping a strand of blonde-green hair over her shoulder. “She’s not even cute.”

  Kael shook his head. "I'm not obsessed with her. I just did something I regret, and I want to apologize.”

  Sera’s annoyed expression melted into something far more intrigued, dangerously intrigued.

  "Hm? That’s surprisingly mature,” she purred. Her narrowed eyes scanned him with predatory curiosity. She licked her lips lightly. "I like that kind of thinking."

  A shiver ran down Kael’s spine. Somehow, Marco’s poisoned arrow had been less unsettling than Sera’s sudden interest.

  “Enough,” Bereon said at last.

  Sera flinched and immediately folded back into her seat, her expression snapping back to its harmless, childlike brightness as if the predatory glint had never existed.

  “Astra remained in the Outer District,” Bereon continued.

  Kael opened his mouth to ask why, but Bereon lifted a hand, stopping him.

  "Let us simply say...it is better this way."

  Kael groaned. "Again with the cryptic answers. Why should I help you if I can’t use any of your answers?”

  Bereon exhaled softly, his tone almost apologetic.

  "I understand your frustration, Kael. But knowledge at the wrong time can be more dangerous than ignorance. Be patient. The answers you’re looking for will come when you’re ready to hear them.”

  Kael pinched the bridge of his nose and forced the irritation down. “Fine. Another question.”

  He jabbed a finger toward the old man.

  “You introduced everyone else. What they can do and who they are. But you said nothing about yourself."

  His gaze sharpened. "And don't even try to lie. I can feel it. You’re strong. Very strong.”

  Bereon’s lips curved with quiet amusement. "You're sharp."

  But Kael didn’t waver. He held his gaze, refusing to look away until Bereon answered.

  Slowly, Bereon rose from his chair.

  The air itself shifted.

  A subtle pressure rolled across the room, heavy enough to tighten Kael’s lungs.

  Fear prickled his arms as admiration battled instinctive caution. Bereon’s demeanor darkened from kindly elder to something far greater.

  When he finally spoke, his voice carried a weight Kael had never heard before.

  “In front of you stands Chronicler Bereos Marelio Silverblood,” he declared.

  "Once heir to a noble bloodline. Once hailed as one of the greatest explorers and scholars of his age.

  And now...the leader of the Unspoken. A traitor in the eyes of the Empire he once loved."

  He bowed with elegant, controlled pride.

  "It is an honor to meet you, Kael."

  Kael staggered back a step, his breath catching in his throat.

  "But how are you still alive?" he demanded.

  "Chroniclers who defy the King are eliminated. The Order hunts them down. How did you survive?”

  Bereon laughed softly.

  "Nora has always had a tendency to dramatize," he said, shaking his head. "But he isn't wrong. That is the fate of most chroniclers who defy the king.”

  The humor drained from his face, replaced by a quiet, heavy seriousness.

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

  "But what about those who survived mission after mission? Those who returned from places that should have killed them?"

  His eyes sharpened.

  “No, the king does not dispose of such people so easily. They are far too valuable. Too knowledgeable. They are too dangerous to kill and too useful to discard.”

  The suffocating atmosphere loosened as Bereon sank back into his chair. His smile returned, gentle and unreadable.

  "But we are not here to talk about me. There are far more important matters—”

  "Bereon."

  The voice that cut through the room froze everyone.

  Deep. Ancient. Lifeless.

  It came from the far right end of the table.

  Varen.

  Even Bereon straightened, a faint flicker of surprise breaking his composure. He turned toward the old knight, who slowly lifted his head for the first time.

  Varen’s hollow eyes locked onto Bereon’s.

  "Tell him your story," he said, every word ringing like a verdict. "It is important for him to know."

  A silence followed—a silence thick with meaning Kael couldn’t decipher.

  Bereon and Varen held each other’s gaze, and an entire conversation passed soundlessly between them. Agreement. Resistance. Pain. Memory.

  Finally, Bereon exhaled.

  The sound was soft. Resigned.

  Almost...mournful.

  He turned back to Kael.

  "All right," he said quietly. "You deserve to know the truth."

  "Like I said," he began. "I was once a member of a well-known noble family, the Silverbloods. We were closely connected to the royal family. Back then, the king, who was only a prince at the time, was my closest friend. When we were children, we did everything together and swore our friendship would last forever.”

  He let out a weak chuckle that carried more pain than amusement.

  "Of course, that didn't happen. As we grew older, our paths diverged. I entered the academy to become a chronicler, while he trained under his father, the king. We only saw each other once a year at banquets or tournaments. Our friendship slowly shifted into a rivalry. We fought each other in duels; sometimes he won, and sometimes I did. Still, we respected each other. It was a healthy rivalry.

  His expression darkened.

  "That changed when I graduated as the top Chronicler in my class. I left the Empire and explored uncharted lands, achieving feats that others wouldn't even dream of attempting."

  He paused, staring through the cracked window as if watching old memories play out behind the glass. The room held its breath.

  “Our rivalry began to rot. With every achievement I gained, his jealousy sharpened. He was chained to the Empire. Forced to rule, forced to study, and forbidden to see the world. I, on the other hand, had all the freedom he lacked. I had recognition, admiration, and a name that echoed across borders.”

  His voice softened, full of regret.

  "I was young. Blind. I was too intoxicated by fame to notice what my success did to him."

  A whisper escaped him.

  "What if I hadn't closed my eyes? Would we still be friends?"

  He closed his eyes for a moment, as if relishing the last warm memory before it all shattered.

  Then he looked at Kael.

  "Allow me to ask you something. What is the one thing that can make a man feel like the happiest person alive and break him beyond repair at the same time?”

  Kael thought for a moment.

  "Wealth," he answered.

  Bereon’s gaze grew knowing, almost pitying.

  "I see. You haven’t experienced that yet.”

  He shook his head slowly.

  "No, it's love."

  His voice softened—not weakly, but with a depth that only someone scarred by love could possess.

  "Love is enlightening. It is pure. Invigorating. It is the most beautiful feeling a human can ever experience.”

  There was a brief pause. Then his tone shifted, becoming heavier.

  "But with it come shadows. Disgusting, venomous feelings you never wanted to know existed. Love blinds you. It silences your rational mind. It shows you what humans truly are at their core."

  He fell quiet for a moment, lost in a memory only he could see.

  "Forgive me," he murmured. "I always get too philosophical about this topic."

  Then his eyes hardened.

  "My downfall began with a woman I met while running an errand in the outer district. I was gathering ingredients, items not welcome in respectable markets. And then...I saw her."

  Something fragile flickered across his expression.

  "Hair like yours. White as the moon. And eyes...” His voice dropped, almost reverent. "Clear blue, like a sky so pure it hurts to look at."

  Kael’s breath caught.

  “She sat in a corner of the street,” Bereon continued. "Barely clothed. Mud-stained from life on the pavement. But I fell in love with her at first sight."

  His features darkened.

  "I later learned that she was blind. Her family had cast her out because they deemed her useless."

  A cold, bitter, humorless laugh escaped him.

  "You should have met her, Kael. Even crippled by life's cruelty, she never broke. She never broke. She fought for every breath with a will stronger than any Chronicler I’ve ever known.”

  The hardness in his eyes softened.

  "It took so much time to convince her to come to my estate so I could care for her. She despised relying on others. But eventually, she understood that I loved her. And over time," he exhaled, almost smiling, "she came to love me, too."

  He paused, allowing the silence to stretch. When he finally spoke again, his voice carried a softness that sounded like a beautiful memory wrapped in pain.

  "We had a short but wonderful time together," he said quietly. "But eventually, I had to continue my missions. And while I was gone..." His jaw tightened.

  "...my friend, the prince, began to court her. In his twisted mind, he was ‘repaying’ me for all the ways I’d overshadowed him.”

  A bitter smile flickered across Bereon’s lips.

  "He was charming. He was the crown prince. Any other woman would have been flattered, even tempted. But she stayed loyal to me. She ignored his visits, his gifts, and his attempts at seduction.”

  Bereon’s voice began to tremble, and his fists clenched with rage.

  “So, when he couldn’t take her from me...”

  His breath hitched.

  "...he decided I shouldn't have her either."

  Kael’s stomach dropped.

  “He kidnapped her,” Bereon said, forcing the words out. "He violated her. He did it all to break me, to drown me in the fury he thought I deserved.”

  His hands slowly unclenched and collapsed limply onto his knees. He stared at the floor, defeated.

  "The rest is only tragedy."

  His voice came out hollow.

  "With a word's power, I forced my way into his chambers. And there she lay..."

  His voice cracked.

  "...motionless. Broken. Her face was frozen in a silent plea for death. He stood above her, smiling, twisted with madness and hatred."

  Bereon squeezed his eyes shut.

  "I couldn't fight. Not after seeing that. Not after failing to protect the only person who ever taught me what love really is.”

  He exhaled shakily.

  "They captured me. They locked me beneath the palace. The prince wanted me dead, but the king..."

  His lip curled in disgust.

  "The king wanted my knowledge. I refused to surrender everything I learned on the missions I undertook for the Empire.”

  His voice dimmed to a whisper.

  "I was tortured for a long time. I would have broken. I almost did. But then...”

  He lifted a finger and pointed at Varen.

  "Someone helped me escape."

  Bereon leaned back, exhausted from telling the story.

  "Twenty years," he finished. "Twenty years since that night. And here I stand. That is all."

  Silence filled the room like a suffocating fog.

  Even Sera, who was usually full of childish energy, sat wordless with tears trembling in her lashes.

  Kael stood frozen.

  What words could possibly answer a story like that?

  How do you speak to a man who lost everything yet kept fighting?

  Varen, who had been silent the whole time, finally spoke.

  "Beware, young one." His voice was ancient and hollow yet firm. "Know the stories of the past, but become the author of your future. We are the ones who failed. You and your generation still have the chance to succeed. Learn. Do better."