The pale light of dawn slipped through the curtains, brushing the princely chamber with a soft, warm glow.

  Althéa slept deeply, lying on her back, wrapped in a silk blanket.

  A forgotten luxury.

  A rest she had not known in nearly two years.

  When she finally emerged, it was with an almost painful slowness.

  Her eyelids fluttered, her eyes half-opened — and two warm tears, without her knowing why, rolled down her cheeks. A silent sob, the remnant of something she had left behind in the dream.

  She turned onto her side, trying to hold on to that fragile peace a little longer…

  …and jolted.

  A silhouette stood less than a meter from her bed.

  Tall. Motionless.

  As if it had been placed there for hours.

  The woman wore platinum-blonde hair tied into a high ponytail; her feline eyes, a piercing blue, gleamed with familiar mischief.

  Her white shirt open at the collar, her tight black trousers, her high boots… nothing was unusual.

  But her cloak.

  Her black cloak, fluid like ink spilled into the air — that was the first thing that struck Althéa.

  Every breath of wind made it ripple like a calligraphic stroke suspended in the void.

  Velara was watching her sleep while peeling an apple with a knife far too large for the task.

  A mocking smile rested at the corner of her lips.

  Althéa sprang upright, pure reflex, instantly taking a defensive stance.

  Velara burst into laughter.

  "Ah, there it is. The reflexes are still there. Too bad — I would’ve had more than enough time to kill you a hundred times during your two days of sleep."

  Althéa blinked, still dizzy.

  "Two days…?"

  Velara nodded, amused.

  "You were exhausted. And let’s just say your little… episode didn’t help matters."

  Althéa brought a hand to her forehead, then looked around the room.

  This chamber, immutable, luxurious, almost oppressive: the enormous bed, the red silk sheets, the carved furniture, the wardrobe overflowing with clothes, the large windows where the dawn had already spread.

  "I’m… back at the palace?" she murmured. "My memory… is slipping. I don’t remember very well anymore…"

  She lowered her eyes to the white silk robe she was wearing, brushing the fabric with her fingertips — as if to make sure she was truly awake.

  A sharp crack: Velara bit into her apple.

  "Princess, you’re crying," she said without the slightest delicacy.

  Althéa brushed her damp cheeks, surprised by her own tears.

  She inhaled.

  "I need some air."

  She crossed the room, opened the terrace doors, and welcomed the morning breeze like a balm.

  Eyes closed, she let the wind soothe her mind and stepped toward the railing.

  Before her, the sea.

  Immense.

  Infinite.

  The chamber faced the opposite direction of Lucénine; only the waves and the horizon ruled here.

  Beautiful, she thought.

  I had missed this view.

  Velara joined her calmly, pulling a chair from the round dark-wood table at the center of a terrace decorated with taste that was as impeccable as it was unnecessary.

  Althéa sat down straight, simply enjoying the moment. Velara took a seat as well and asked:

  "What kind of dream did you have to end up in such a state?"

  Althéa rested her elbow on the table, chin in her hand, staring at the horizon.

  Then she said thoughtfully:

  "I dreamed of Kael… Well, I don’t know if it was really him, but he had the same eyes."

  She ran a hand across her cheek, hesitating to continue.

  "It was… strange. Not a normal dream."

  She inhaled slowly.

  "There was a place… a blue lake, soft grass, a flowering tree. Everything was too clear. Too perfect."

  Her fingers tightened on the table.

  "And him. I couldn’t see his face at first, just his presence. Calm. As if nothing could touch him."

  She briefly closed her eyes, trying to recover the memory.

  "And then I heard…"

  Her voice broke.

  "…laughter."

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  Velara raised an eyebrow, surprised by the tremor in her voice.

  "Children’s laughter. Two of them. They ran toward him… they jumped into his arms."

  She swallowed, her throat tight.

  "And he was smiling. Truly… he was smiling like… like someone who has found his place."

  She lifted her head toward Velara, her eyes shining with a confusion she did not understand herself.

  "And the woman with him… Velara, she looked at him as if…"

  She stopped, searching for the words.

  "…as if she had loved him forever."

  The breeze lifted her white hair.

  "And when I saw his face…"

  Her fingers trembled slightly.

  "…it was Kael. Or someone who looks like him. But… different. Older. More… awake."

  She placed a hand on her chest.

  "And I felt warmth here. A pull. As if something wanted to bring me back to him."

  Her voice dropped lower, almost ashamed:

  "And right after that… everything shattered."

  She plunged her amethyst gaze into Velara’s and continued, her voice softer:

  Velara watched her for a moment, the apple motionless in her fingers.

  Her gaze, usually amused or sharp, had softened — just a little.

  "That was… intense," she finally said.

  "Not exactly an ordinary dream."

  Althéa nodded faintly.

  Her breathing had stabilized, but part of her was still elsewhere, trapped in that unreal lake she should never have seen.

  She gently wiped her still-damp cheeks.

  Velara continued, her tone returning to something more direct, though less harsh than usual:

  "And while you were sleeping like a stone, we weren't exactly idle."

  She bit into her apple again, then added:

  "His eyes… you only saw the effect they had on you. But that’s nothing compared to the rest."

  Althéa lifted her head, both intrigued and worried.

  "The rest?"

  Velara sighed.

  All the lightness vanished from her face.

  "The marks, Althéa. The ones you didn’t see. Because you were unconscious. There’s nothing normal about them."

  She paused and took another bite of her apple.

  Velara tapped the table with her finger, as if searching for a way to explain it without sounding insane.

  Althéa turned her head toward her.

  She sighed, as if the memory still gave her a headache.

  "There’s nothing normal about them, Althea. Nothing. Especially the one on his neck."

  She narrowed her eyes, recalling the scene.

  "No one can look at it. And I mean no one. the moment anyone looks at it, it triggers terrible headaches."

  She tapped her temple.

  "A migraine like a blade in the skull. Even I had to look away after barely a second."

  Althéa frowned, genuinely troubled.

  Velara continued:

  "We ran every test we could. A whole battery of them… and nothing. We don’t know what it is, or why nobody can see it. We’ll have to wait for him to wake up to know if he can at least perceive it himself… or tell us where it comes from."

  A silence passed, then Althea asked:

  "And the other marks? Do they represent something?"

  Velara nodded, her eyes fixed on the horizon as if it helped her think.

  "Yes. A serpent biting its own tail. Five times."

  She raised a hand and counted on her fingers.

  "One on the neck, one on the heart, one on the shoulder, one on the side… and the largest one on his back."

  She grimaced.

  "And the one on his back… it also carries a text carved into it. An unknown language. Nothing in our archives looks like it."

  She shrugged, a rare gesture for her.

  "I don’t understand the meaning, or the origin. And frankly… I don’t like it."

  She sighed and finished her apple.

  "But what the hell did he do during his Trial…"

  A maid entered Althéa’s chamber carrying a tray loaded with dishes more delicious than the last. She greeted the princess.

  "Happy to see you back among us, princess. You were greatly missed."

  Althéa thanked her. The maid bowed to Velara before leaving.

  Velara stared at the tray with delight, then looked at Althéa. She gestured that she could help herself. Velara did not hesitate.

  Althéa asked:

  "And what about his Trame? Did it finally appear?"

  Velara, already attacking her breakfast, answered with her mouth still full:

  "No. No Trame. That little bastard defies all logic."

  Althea leaned back in her chair, picked a cluster of grapes and ate them one by one.

  "He has no Trame, but he wields the Elan. He also has a Primordial Shard given by a Primogene… and his Anointing."

  She sighed.

  "And he’s a Ombrevu."

  Velara added:

  "What intrigues me the most in this whole avalanche of madness is that someone followed him outside his fracture. And then all the nonsense the two of them kept spouting… the Velasquez Limit, the golden ratio, a broken ouroboros… what kind of bullshit is that, honestly?"

  Althéa sighed in despair and continued eating her grapes, her unreal white hair flowing in the wind. They had grown again during her trial. They now reached her shoulders once more.

  She asked:

  "And Lucanis? How is he? At least he doesn’t seem to have done anything too extraordinary compared to all this."

  Velara nearly choked on a cup of water before correcting her:

  "Lucanis has the ability to manipulate ambient Elan even though he’s only a simple Revealed. Even if it’s unconscious, it’s impressive, believe me. I think you haven’t quite grasped the potential of his Trame… but I have. Out of the three of you, he’s the one with the most potential, believe me."

  Althéa allowed herself a small smile.

  Velara noticed it.

  "If I had said that a few months ago, you would’ve bristled and gone sulking in a corner."

  Althéa replied calmly:

  "That little girl doesn’t exist anymore, Velara. If Lucanis has more potential than I do, it doesn’t bother me… it makes me proud, even. It will push me to surpass myself if I want to catch up to him."

  Velara, who had resumed eating, added:

  "He’s at the palace, by the way. Your mother is already starting to weave her web."

  Althéa chuckled softly.

  "I don’t doubt that for a second. But from my point of view, Lucanis couldn’t care less about those political schemes."

  Velara corrected her immediately:

  "Maybe Lucanis doesn’t care, but House Velcrann does. I looked into it. And knowing him — and from what little I know of him — I know perfectly well it’s going to be very hard for him to adapt to his new position as heir of House Velcrann."

  Althéa continued as she straightened up to pour herself a cup of water:

  "My mother knows that too. And she’s taking advantage of the fact that Lucanis is isolated to test every possible opening: support, alliance, gentle pressure…"

  She paused.

  "And she’s using my friendship with him as political leverage."

  A sigh.

  "It’s clever, and perfectly in character for her."

  Silence settled for a moment.

  The wind made the curtains ripple behind them.

  Althéa hesitated, then asked:

  "And what about Kael?" Althéa asked. "Is he at the Institute?"

  Velara froze slightly, as if caught off guard.

  She stood and leaned against the railing, turning half away from her.

  Althéa, sensitive to the slightest shift in mood, frowned.

  "Velara… what aren’t you telling me?"

  The tall woman crossed her arms. A bad sign.

  She played for a moment with the sheath of her knife, as if her hands needed something to do.

  "Well… no," she finally said. "He’s not at the Institute."

  Althéa grabbed another cluster of grapes, though the movement lacked its usual ease.

  "So he’s at the Academy? Already?"

  She tried to keep her voice neutral.

  "Neither," Velara replied.

  Silence fell.

  Althéa slowly raised her eyes, and her calm, amethyst gaze forced Velara to look elsewhere.

  "Velara."

  Her tone was no longer friendly.

  "Speak."

  The former Elan Sensitization professor ran a hand through her ponytail, nervous.

  A tic Althéa had seen only a few times since she had become her personal guard.

  "There’s going to be… an exceptional royal summons."

  Althéa sprang to her feet, the chair scraping against the stone.

  "A what?"

  Velara finally looked at her.

  "Kael is here."

  A brutal silence settled.

  "At the palace."