The doors creaked open, revealing the grand hall beyond. The air inside was cool, almost cold, and the light streaming through the high, arched windows glinted off the polished stone floor. The walls were covered with magnificent tapestries, each woven with crimson threads that seemed to pulse faintly with life, as if the very essence of the Bastion ran through them.

  Kale’s gaze wandered across the vast room. Large pillars rose to the vaulted ceiling, where more crests of the Scarlet Veil were etched into the stone. The presence of blood magic was unmistakable, thick in the air like an invisible current. The metallic tang clung to their senses, as if the walls themselves bled with the power coursing through the Bastion.

  Rika looked at the walls, then up to the ceiling. “I’m sensing a theme here.”

  Liliana didn’t respond, her eyes forward as she led them further inside. It had been years since she last walked these halls, yet every detail felt painfully familiar—the charged atmosphere, the unspoken pressure, the sense that unseen eyes were always watching, waiting for the slightest misstep.

  As they walked, their footsteps echoed off the cold stone, and Kale felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He could feel it too, that sense of being watched. Of something waiting, unseen.

  At the far end of the hall stood a raised platform, and upon it, a grand throne carved from gleaming white stone. Its surface was smooth, reflecting the faint light from the windows, but the intricate patterns of blood magic etched into the stone told of its true purpose. The stark contrast of the throne’s pure white against the dark atmosphere of the hall gave it an almost ethereal presence, as if it were both a symbol of power and a reminder of the family’s mastery over life and blood.

  Liliana’s eyes lingered on the throne for a moment. “We won’t have to wait long.”

  Rika turned to Liliana. “You know, for a place dripping with blood magic, I was kind of expecting something a bit more… grim.”

  Before Liliana could respond, the air in the hall grew heavier. The sigils carved into the white stone throne began to glow faintly, and the blood magic that hung in the atmosphere seemed to shift, condensing toward the center of the room. Slowly, like a ripple across the surface of water, blood began to pool at the base of the throne, dark and thick, creeping upward along the stone.

  With a fluid motion, the blood rose, forming a shape, a figure emerging from the depths of the red. The silhouette solidified, taking form, until Liliana’s father sat upon the throne, his expression cold, hard. His eyes gleamed like polished rubies, and his presence alone seemed to amplify the hum of the magic in the air.

  Kale stiffened, his instincts screaming to prepare for anything, though he resisted the urge to reach for his sword. Beside him, Rika’s grin turned into surprise.

  The Lord of the Scarlet Veil had arrived.

  “Liliana.” His voice was low and steady, calm and commanding, filled with authority.

  “Father.”

  The silence between them was charged with an unspoken tension. Kale and Rika exchanged a glance but remained silent, sensing that this moment belonged entirely to Liliana and her father.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure?” His words were precise, as though every syllable carried his judgment.

  Liliana met his gaze. “We’re in Nyridia because we need to speak with Serassa, the temple guardian of Aeloria’s temple. Since you’re here, I thought it only respectful to see you first, as I knew you’d be aware of my arrival.”

  Her father’s expression remained impassive, though a flicker of intrigue passed through his eyes. “Serassa... What would you want with her?”

  Liliana tilted her head slightly. “You know her?”

  “I know everyone in Nyridia,” he replied.

  “Xeroth has returned. That’s why we need to see Serassa.”

  Her father paused, his eyes narrowing as if measuring her words. “I am aware Xeroth has returned.”

  “So then you understand why we need to see her! To stop him!”

  “And you and your... band of vagrants will stop him?” His eyes flicked dismissively to Kale and Rika before settling back on Liliana. “You, who don’t even have the power to restore your own body. You, tethered to a blood gem that festers with corruption. You, who turned your back on the Scarlet Veil and my teachings because you thought they were beneath you, because you thought you could become something greater.”

  His voice grew colder, each word cutting like a blade. “You, who abandoned your obligations, who showed no regard for the legacy of the Scarlet Veil. And now you return here, a shadow of the mage you once were. A reminder of arrogance unchecked, of your failure. My failure.”

  The anger simmered beneath his calm tone, each word laced with the bitterness of betrayal.

  Liliana looked down at the floor.

  “And even disregarding all of that,” he continued, “what do you think Serassa could do? You think the bladeweavers can stop Xeroth like they did before? Don’t make me laugh. Back then there were tens, maybe hundreds of thousands of them. Now there can’t be more than a handful.”

  He leaned forward slightly, his disappointment palpable. “Aeloria is powerful, but even she cannot turn the tide with a handful of warriors. Bladeweavers are relics, scattered and few. You are looking in the wrong direction, Liliana.”

  Kale felt the anger rising in him. He couldn’t just stand there and listen to Liliana be torn down. “That’s enough,” he began, stepping forward to defend her.

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  Before he could finish, the Lord of the Scarlet Veil’s voice exploded through the hall. “SILENCE.” The word boomed, echoing with such force that Kale felt it vibrate through his chest, as if the command had struck him physically.

  Kale staggered slightly, his body reacting to the force carried in the word. The blood magic that permeated the Bastion seemed to thrum in response, a tangible presence that grew sharper and more oppressive, as though it was responding to the fury of its master.

  Liliana felt like a little girl again.

  Her father’s booming voice, the harshness of his words, everything brought her back to the countless times she’d been scolded as a child. She had spent years trying to push those memories away, but they clawed their way to the surface now, refusing to be silenced.

  “You think power comes without sacrifice?” His voice echoed in her mind, as sharp and cold as it was now. She was just twelve, standing in this very hall, trembling after a training session. Blood magic flowed through her veins, but her body had failed to keep up. She had faltered, collapsed under the weight of it. She could still hear the sound of her breathless sobbing, the way her fingers trembled as she tried to push herself off the floor.

  “Get up!” her father’s voice had commanded then, just as it commanded now. She had struggled to her feet, legs shaking, head spinning from exhaustion. She’d wanted to cry, to scream, but all she could do was force herself to stand. She couldn’t show him weakness. She wouldn’t.

  But then he had turned away, disgust in his eyes. “You will never be strong if you refuse to rid yourself of your weakness.”

  She had stood there in silence, holding back tears, her heart pounding with a mix of fear, anger, and shame. Even then, she had sworn to herself that she would prove him wrong, that she would become stronger on her own terms, without his cruelty to push her.

  Standing before him once again, she could feel those same tears threatening to well up in her eyes. She was no longer that little girl, but the weight of his judgment still bore down on her. She fought the rising tide of emotion, forcing herself to remain composed.

  I cannot show him weakness. I will not show him weakness.

  Liliana lifted her head, her voice steady and defiant. “I came here out of respect, not to ask for your permission or your judgment! You have not seen me in years, and this is my welcome?”

  Her eyes met his, blazing with determination. “Tell me where the temple is hidden so I can be on my way, and you won’t have to see your disappointment of a daughter again.”

  The tension in the room thickened as Liliana’s words hung in the air, the challenge in her tone unmistakable. Kale and Rika exchanged glances, but neither dared speak. This was Liliana’s fight.

  For a moment, her father said nothing, his cold eyes studying her with the same intensity he’d always had. He didn’t say a word, but something in the way his gaze lingered hinted at a flicker of acknowledgment. Perhaps, somewhere beneath the layers of disappointment and anger, he respected her for standing up to him.

  But he would never say it.

  “If you seek the temple, I will tell you where it is.”

  He paused briefly, as if weighing his words carefully. “The temple is hidden beneath the old archives in the western quarter of the city.”

  Liliana blinked, surprised. “There’s a temple there? I’ve been through that area dozens of times.”

  “It wouldn’t be hidden very well if it looked like a temple, would it?”

  Liliana turned to leave, and Kale and Rika followed, ready to put the tense confrontation behind them. But just as they reached the doorway, her father spoke again.

  “And Liliana...” He paused for a brief moment. “Try not to die. It would be... most upsetting for your mother.”

  Liliana hesitated, her back to him, but she didn’t respond. She pushed forward, leading the group out of the hall.

  As they made their way through the corridors of the Bastion, the tension still lingered in the air. Rika glanced at Liliana, but for once, said nothing. Kale walked in silence, lost in his own thoughts.

  As they approached the entrance, Liliana froze. Standing before them, dressed in flowing white and crimson robes adorned with intricate symbols of blood magic, was her mother. Her posture was graceful, yet there was an undeniable sharpness to her presence. Her eyes, the same piercing shade as Liliana’s, flickered with recognition and something deeper, something Liliana couldn’t quite place.

  “Mother,” Liliana said quietly.

  Her mother’s gaze swept over the trio, lingering momentarily on Kale and Rika before returning to Liliana. “So, it’s true,” she said, her tone as cool and measured as her father’s. “You’ve returned.”

  “I have,” Liliana replied, holding her mother’s gaze. “But not to stay.”

  Her mother’s lips pressed into a thin line, the faintest hint of disappointment etched into her features. “I thought as much.”

  Then, for the first time since Liliana could remember, there was a crack in her mother’s composed exterior. A look of sadness, regret, crossed her face, and she stepped forward. She hesitated, her eyes searching Liliana’s face, as if unsure what to do. Liliana floated before her, just a head, no body to embrace.

  Her mother’s hands hovered uncertainly in the air for a moment before, with a small, pained sigh, she reached forward and gently pulled Liliana’s head to her chest, cradling her as best she could.

  “My poor girl,” her mother whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “What happened to you?”

  Liliana froze, stunned by the unexpected tenderness. She had never seen her mother like this, had never felt anything but the cold, hard presence that had matched her father’s. But now... now she saw something different.

  There was love here. Regret. Her mother’s arms tightened around her as if, in that moment, she feared she would lose her all over again. “I failed you,” her mother whispered, her voice filled with sorrow. “We were too harsh... I was too harsh. I thought I was protecting you, making you strong, but I didn’t see what it was doing to you. I didn’t see.”

  Liliana’s throat tightened, fighting back a wave of emotion she hadn’t expected. She had never thought her mother capable of this kind of vulnerability. It was always her father’s way—cold, strict, unyielding. And her mother had been the same. She had believed it was the only way to survive, the only way to raise Liliana to be strong.

  She could feel the love in her mother’s words. All of it had been for her, born out of fear and a fierce desire to protect her. And now, here they were, years later, with her mother clinging to her, begging forgiveness.

  “Please forgive me,” her mother whispered, her voice breaking. “Please, stay. You are all we have left... all we have left after your sisters...”

  The mention of her sisters stirred old, painful memories she had locked away. Her mother’s arms tightened around her, the words laced with desperation.

  “I thought I was doing what was best for you,” her mother continued. “After we lost them, I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you too. I thought if I made you stronger, if I prepared you for everything, I could protect you... I could keep you from their fate. But I failed. I failed you.”

  Liliana closed her eyes, her mother’s words sinking in. She had never realized how much fear had driven her parents’ actions. The coldness, the strictness, it had all been rooted in the loss of her sisters, in the fear that Liliana would be next.

  She wanted to respond, to say something, but her throat was tight, the flood of emotion overwhelming her.

  Liliana swallowed hard, forcing the lump in her throat down as she gently pulled herself free from her mother’s embrace. “We have to go,” she said quietly. Without looking back, she moved toward the exit.

  Kale and Rika followed silently.

  As they reached the door, Liliana’s mother remained where she stood, her hand outstretched, fingers trembling slightly as though it could somehow make Liliana stay. Her eyes, filled with sorrow, followed her daughter, but she didn’t say another word.

  The doors swung open, and Liliana led the group out into the courtyard. The moment they stepped through, she felt the cold air hit her, and her resolve hardened.

  But behind her, her mother remained, standing in the shadow of the Bastion, watching them leave.