Chapter 50

Six years had passed, and the city of Sungai had grown prosperous, joyful, and vibrant. Streets that had once echoed with caution and fear now rang with laughter and commerce. Merchants paraded through the market, offering spices, gold, and rare fabrics. Children chased one another across cobblestone streets, their shouts of delight carrying into the sunlit air. The bells of the royal palace tolled a melody of peace, a promise that the kingdom had healed.

At the heart of this flourishing kingdom stood Zerach and Freda, a union of love forged through trials and tempered by loss. Over the years, their devotion to one another had deepened, their touches and glances carrying the warmth of unwavering trust. Freda’s gentle kindness balanced Zerach’s commanding strength, and the people of Sungai had come to respect and admire her as queen.

Their children brought even more joy into the palace. Lucien and Lyra, now 17, had grown into formidable young adults. Lucien mirrored his father — tall, strong, with sharp golden eyes that reflected both wisdom and mischief. His horns, though small compared to Zerach’s, curved elegantly, a silent mark of his unique bloodline. Lyra, with her copper-brown hair and striking human features, had grown into a graceful, intelligent, and independent young woman under Mira’s watchful eye. Both had inherited abilities that hinted at the dormant powers within them, and although the nightmares that had once haunted them had lessened over the years, they had grown stronger, more intense, lingering at the edges of their minds.

Kael, now six years old, was a lively, mischievous presence in the palace. His skin was pale as moonlight, a stark contrast to his golden-brown hair that framed his sharp, wolf-like features. Beneath his charming exterior, his body was lean, yet strong, carrying the power and blood of his great-great-grandfather. Kael’s eyes sparkled with cleverness and mischief, often glinting like the eyes of a wolf hunting in the dark. He moved with uncanny agility, climbing and running through the palace as though it were a forest, leaving laughter and chaos in his wake.

One morning, Kael concocted a new plan for adventure. The palace gardens were in full bloom, and he decided the pigeons in the royal coop needed “freedom.” With a burst of energy, he flung open the coop doors, sending the birds into a flurry of wings and feathers. Merchants outside the palace scattered in panic as the birds swooped through the streets, leaving a trail of white feathers glinting in the morning sun.

Lucien, carrying a book on the history of Sungai, arrived just in time to see the chaos. “Kael! What did I tell you about the birds?” he shouted, rushing forward.

Kael laughed, dodging his brother’s grasp. “They wanted to fly, Lucien! Look at them! Isn’t it amazing?”

Lucien sighed, a mixture of amusement and exasperation crossing his face. He chased after Kael, finally scooping him up. “You’re going to learn someday that mischief has consequences,” he said, ruffling his younger brother’s hair.

Kael giggled, snuggling against Lucien’s chest. “But I wanted to have fun!”

Lucien smiled despite himself. “Fun is wonderful… but only when it doesn’t cause trouble.”

The twins, Lucien and Lyra, despite their own burdens, were both aware of their unique destinies. Lyra had spent her teenage years under Mira’s watchful eye, learning survival skills, combat, and the discipline needed to control the powers she had inherited. She was cautious and fiercely intelligent, and Mira’s warnings about her eighteenth birthday — the night when her full abilities would awaken — weighed heavily on her mind.

Lucien, meanwhile, had grown into a strong, capable young man, aware of the dormant mark within him. Though he had mostly kept it hidden, Zerach had noticed subtle signs of its presence — a glimmer beneath his skin when he was upset, a strange warmth in his chest at times of heightened emotion. Zerach often blamed himself for the circumstances of his children’s birth, fearing that their inherited powers might one day bring danger to the family he worked so hard to protect.

Despite these shadows, the palace was filled with laughter and happiness. Freda had gained the trust of Lucien, earning his love and admiration through her gentle patience and guidance. The children of the palace — especially Kael — brought life and energy to every corner. Kael, with his wolf-like agility, was always causing trouble, from sneaking into the kitchens to “borrow” pastries to leaping across the balcony railings just to make Lucien chase him. Yet even in chaos, there was love. Lucien often caught himself smiling at his younger brother’s antics, realizing that these moments of mischief were fleeting — precious fragments of childhood he would never get back.

One afternoon, while Kael darted through the halls, Zerach and Freda watched from the garden. “He has your energy,” Zerach said, shaking his head with a fond smile.

“And your stubbornness,” Freda added softly, leaning against him. “I see both of you in him.”

Zerach’s gaze softened as he watched Kael tumble and roll, finally landing on the grass with a triumphant laugh. “He is strong, clever, and fearless. We must nurture that… but teach him caution too. One day, he will need it.”

Meanwhile, Lyra trained in the forest with Mira, her movements precise, her mind sharp. “You have grown well,” Mira said, observing her. “But the time is approaching when your powers will awaken fully. You must be ready — for yourself, for Lucien, and for the fate of Sungai.”

Lyra nodded, wiping the sweat from her brow. “I feel it, Mother. Something is coming. The dreams have returned — stronger than before. I see shadows, people cloaked in black, all bowing to me… yet I cannot recognize them. And sometimes, I see Lucien… but only a glimpse.”

Mira’s face tightened. “The prophecy will awaken soon, my child. And when it does, your training will be tested. You must not fail — for all of you, the kingdom, and for your own lives.”

Back at the palace, the royal family enjoyed a rare moment of peace. Lucien played with Kael, laughing as the younger boy climbed over his shoulders, while Zerach and Freda watched, sharing quiet words and occasional gentle touches. The love that radiated between them was a shield against the darkness that loomed beyond the palace walls.

Yet, even in these happy moments, shadows stirred. The dormant powers within Lucien and Lyra had grown stronger, subtle signals of a fate they could not yet fully comprehend. Kael, too, carried within him the bloodline of his great-great-grandfather — a wolf’s instincts, strength, and courage — though his innocence masked the full potential of what he might become.

As the sun set over Sungai, painting the city in hues of gold and crimson, Mira looked toward the horizon from her hidden forest cottage. Her heart tightened as she considered the coming week. Lyra’s eighteenth birthday was approaching, the night that would awaken powers she had trained to control for years. She feared for her daughter, for Lucien, for Kael, and for the kingdom.

“I hope the gods are watching,” Mira whispered, her fingers tracing the faint mark on Lyra’s back through her clothing. “I hope they grant me strength… and wisdom. The night is coming, and with it, the storm.”

And far away, within the palace walls, Zerach held Freda’s hand, watching Lucien and Kael play. For now, there was laughter, peace, and family. The city of Sungai slept under a blanket of prosperity and hope, blissfully unaware of the approaching shadow that would test the family, the city, and the fate of all they held dear.

The night was calm, but the calm was only temporary. Shadows were gathering, powers awakening, and destinies intertwining. The children of Sungai — Lucien, Lyra, and Kael — would soon face trials that would define their lives, the kingdom, and the legacy of their bloodline.

And in the quiet of the palace, as stars shimmered above, Zerach whispered a silent prayer:

“May we survive what is coming. May my children be strong. And may the gods watch over us all.”