-Luca-

  “Are you insane?” Edric asked, tentatively pulling his hand away from Damian’s shoulder. “After what King Golden Eyes did to you, you wanna see him?”

  The boy nodded. “He’s not all bad.” His voice was small, defensive. “He always said he was just trying to help us. To get rid of the blood we carried.”

  I clenched my jaw. “Damian, he tortured you.”

  “No, no he… he taught me. Yeah, sometimes it hurt, but that's just part of learning right? If it wasn’t for him and Empress I wouldn’t have learned how to use my magic.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  “Kid, he treated you like cattle. Not just you, your family too.” Edric said.

  I looked over at Sacer, his face tight in frustration. “Why would His Majesty…” He muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

  Damian’s jaw tightened. “You don’t know anything about him.”

  The fire between us crackled. I glanced at Sacer, his white hair hid his eyes, expression unreadable, then back at Damian, whose eyes were focused on the flames.

  “We’re a month away from the capital,” Sacer said. “Even if we wanted to take you there, it’s not exactly a short trip.”

  “I don’t mind waiting.”

  I frowned. “You’re really that determined to see him again?”

  The boy nodded, frowning. “I just… I need to.”

  The look in his eyes were telling me a different story. I recognized it, from the looks I received in the capital.

  Sacer sighed. “We should get some rest. We’ll figure out what to do in the morning.”

  As we settled in for the night, I kept my eye on Damian. Even when his breathing evened out and sleep took him, his body remained tense, like he was bracing for a hand to strike.

  The forest was still damp with morning dew when Edric and I left to refill our water supply. Edric was quiet at first, which wasn’t like him.

  “So,” he started, kicking a rock down the path. “About that look-a-like of yours,”

  I raised an eyebrow. “What?”

  “You know, the one you’re sure is burning down villages and controlling that dragon?”

  “What about him?” I frowned.

  Edric shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just that, well… you think there’s any chance it could be Damian?”

  I stopped walking. “That’s ridiculous.”

  Edric held up his hands defensively. “Hey, hey, come on, I’m just saying. Kid’s got a whole lot of baggage. He’s got magic like yours. What if-”

  “He’s thirteen, Edric.” I cut him off, my voice firm. “Damian’s just a kid.”

  Edric watched me for a moment, then sighed. “Alright, alright. Just… he’s only a couple years younger than you.”

  I shook my head and kept walking. What was he thinking? That’s crazy.

  As we reached the stream, Edric took my waterskin and knelt down, dunking it into the clear water.

  “I am curious about another thing though,” He said.

  “Hm?”

  “You and Sacer are brothers. Twins, obviously,”

  “That’s usually how twins work.” I responded flatly, tilting my head.

  “And you’re the Demon King’s reincarnation, whereas Sacer is the Hero’s.” He capped the waterskin and placed it aside on the ground, dunking another under the water.

  “Damon and Gabriel, yes.”

  “And-”

  “Edric, ask your damn question.” I cut him off, exasperated.

  He let out a laugh and sat back on the dirt, staring at the water as it flowed. “Sorry, sorry,” He picked up a small stone, rubbing it with his thumb. “Sacer doesn’t like talking about this stuff, so I’m hoping you’ll be open about it.”

  Slightly concerned about what could possibly be running through his head, I took a seat next to him on the ground. “Ask away.”

  “How does your dad fit into everything? Is he related to Gabriel and Damon? He had to know what you two’s hair and eye colors meant, so why didn’t he… I don’t know, bring you two to the capital sooner?” He turned to look at me, his face deathly serious.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Without thinking, I let out a snort. “That’s what you want to know?” I shook my head with a soft chuckle. “Sacer and I are adopted; someone left us on his doorstep when we were babies.”

  “Adopted…” Edric muttered, brows furrowing slightly

  “And, as for the other thing, I actually don’t know,” I leaned forward slightly, catching my reflection in the water. “Frankly, until that birthday, I didn’t know there was something off about us.”

  “Do you,” he started, standing up and putting the waterskins in his pockets. “Do you hate Sacer and your father for how they reacted? For how they treated you?” Edric held a hand out down to me.

  “Hate them?” I repeated, taking his hand as he helped me to my feet. “No, of course not. But, I’d be lying if I said I at least didn’t want a ‘sorry’ from Sacer.”

  As we made our way back to camp, Sacer was perched on a rock, methodically sharpening his broadsword. The sun was glistening off his hair, giving him that ethereal glow he always seemed to have. Damian sat stiffly, his eyes locked onto Sacer’s every movement, his fingers twitching at his sides.

  Edric forced a cough, a little louder than necessary, breaking the strange silence. “Y’all ready? It’s a long trip so we should try to reach the nearest village before nightfall.”

  —

  It was midday by the time we reached the nearest village, well, city is probably a better term. Towering stone walls loomed ahead, worn with age but still standing strong. A massive wooden gate marked the entrance, flanked by guards who barely gave us a second glance.

  Above the gate, an iron sign read: Fatalis.

  I pulled my hood up, then reached over to do the same for Damian. He flinched at the touch, tensing under my hand, but didn’t say anything.

  Sacer gave the soldiers a nod as we passed through, and the second we stepped inside, my senses became overwhelmed.

  The air was thick with the scent of roasting meat and fresh bread, mixing with the iron tang of a nearby forge. Merchants shouted over one another, their colorful stalls packed with everything from spices to jewelry. A musician played something fast and lively from his instrument, and laughter spilled out for a tavern down the road.

  It was a lot.

  I pulled my hood down more. “We should find an inn.”

  “Or-” Sacer suddenly stopped in his tracks, his head snapping toward a side street.

  I followed his gaze. At the end of a wide stone path stood a massive building with stained-glass windows. Its heavy oak doors were lined with gilded lettering that gleamed in the midday sun.

  Edric squinted. “What, that big fancy building?”

  Sacer’s eyes practically glowed. "Are you stupid? That’s The Grand Archive of Fatalis!”

  I frowned. "And that means…?"

  “It’s only the most important library in all of Valtara,” he said, already walking toward it. “The texts they have are potentially older than the kingdom itself! Some of the first records of magic, of the wars, of Gabriel and Damon—everything.”

  I looked at Edric. He just shrugged and said, “Guess we’re going to a library.”

  Damian lingered behind. I had a feeling this wasn’t his kind of place either, but he followed anyway.

  I sighed and stepped after them. If Sacer was this excited, we were going to be here a while.

  I probably couldn’t appreciate it as much as my brother, but the place was impressive. It was massive. Towering shelves that stretched endlessly into the dimly lit space, crammed with books and scrolls so old they looked like they might crumble if you so much as breathed too hard near them.

  Sacer moved ahead of us, his golden eyes flicking over the rows of books. Meanwhile, the three of us stood near the entrance, unsure what we were supposed to do.

  “Huh…” Edric muttered, arms crossed as he watched Sacer disappear into the labyrinth of books.

  “What?” I asked, turning my head slightly. “Never seen this side of Sacer?”

  He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s usually wound so tight. It’s nice to see him actually relax somewhat.”

  “He reads,” I pointed out. “A lot.” I glanced back at my brother. He was focused, running his fingers along the spines of books, flipping through the occasional page before moving on. It was almost like the weight of who he was wasn’t bearing on him for once.

  Edric nudged me. “So, should we be worried?”

  “About?” I raised a brow.

  “Sacer. He’s acting suspiciously happy. What if this is a sign of the end times?”

  I snorted. “I think we already passed that threshold on our birthday.”

  “Yeah, but that was normal end-times stuff. This? This is weird.”

  I shoved him lightly, shaking my head as he laughed.

  Damian was keeping his distance. He hung back a few steps, his arms folded, gaze flicking over the books.

  “You alright?” I asked him.

  He blinked, like he’d been pulled from some deep thought. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

  Edric shot me a look, but I just shrugged.

  We kept following Sacer as he wove through the endless rows of books. He wasn’t just browsing anymore. There was a purpose to his madness, like something was pulling him forward.

  “What exactly are you looking for?” I finally asked.

  “Just browsing.” Sacer said without stopping.

  I rolled my eyes. “Great. That’s helpful.”

  He ignored me, taking another turn, moving deeper into the archives. The further we delved, the older the books looked. Some had bindings so cracked they barely held together, others were stacked haphazardly and were caked in dust.

  Sacer stopped. In front of him stood a bookcase unlike the others. It was taller, made of dark polished wood, its glass doors locked shut with a strange symbol glowing faintly in the dim light. I had no idea what the symbol meant, but the second Sacer reached out to touch it, it reacted. It pulsed, the same warm glow as his magic.

  A soft click echoed as the lock unlatched.

  “Well,” Edric said, stepping back slightly. “That totally isn’t ominous.”

  Sacer pulled the doors open, and inside, resting alone on a shelf, was a single book. Like it had been waiting. He reached out, lifting it carefully. His fingers brushed over the embossed emblem on the front—a sword. The sword. The Mirage Sword.

  “What is it?” I asked, stepping closer.

  Slowly, he opened the cover. The ink on the first page had faded slightly to time, but the words were still clear.

  “For my children.”