Chapter Four: The Heir and the Ghost

The marble halls of the Voss Citadel gleamed beneath the morning sun, every inch of the palace screaming control, order, and silent menace. Statues of past rulers lined the corridors, their eyes carved to look down on those who passed—reminders of legacy and power. And at the heart of it all stood Damien Voss, the empire’s rising shadow.

He strode through the throne chamber with the weight of a kingdom behind every step. The council had summoned him for the final briefing before the Ascension, but his mind was elsewhere—haunted by a name.

Vale.

“You’re distracted,” said Kareth, his spymaster, as he appeared beside him like a wraith. “That’s unlike you.”

Damien didn’t slow. “You said it yourself—someone resurfaced from the ashes. That deserves my attention.”

“The report was unconfirmed.”

Damien stopped at the edge of the great hall, turning toward the other man, voice calm but lethal. “I don’t pay you for uncertainty, Kareth. I pay you to know.”

Kareth inclined his head. “Then you’ll want to hear this—we found signs of movement in the Black Vale ruins. A secret vault opened. Records missing.”

“And?” Damien asked sharply.

Kareth hesitated. “A name signed out from the Imperial border two days ago. Alias: Valencia Dorn.”

Damien’s eyes narrowed. “I know that name.”

“She’s been operating under it for over a year. High circles. Quiet deals. She’s good—better than most. She’s been watching you, Damien.”

His hand curled into a fist at his side. Watching?

And somehow, that name—Valencia Dorn—didn’t just sound familiar. It echoed. He’d heard it at the underground auctions. In court whispers. A ghost in silk.

A beautiful one.

A dangerous one.

“She’s coming here, isn’t she?” he asked.

Kareth gave a thin smile. “She’s already in the city.”

Elsewhere in the Capital…

Aria moved through the heart of the Empire like she belonged. Her dark gown shimmered with understated power, the long sleeves concealing a dozen blades stitched into the fabric. A forged crest of a minor noble house hung around her neck.

The guards at the western palace gate barely looked twice.

Just another noblewoman in a sea of arrogance and wealth.

But unlike them, Aria had a purpose.

The Ascension Gala was three days away. It would bring every powerful family, every house still standing, and every enemy into the same room.

Including Damien Voss.

She needed a face-to-face meeting. An invitation she could twist.

And she’d get one.

She always did.

At the central courtyard, nobles gathered in silks and sarcasm, exchanging thin smiles and veiled threats. Aria scanned the crowd with practiced ease—assessing weaknesses, memorizing alliances.

Then she saw him.

Damien.

He stood alone on the far terrace, the wind catching his black coat as though even the storm knew to bow to him.

He was taller than she remembered from the few blurry images in stolen archives. Colder, too. Not just in expression, but in presence. Power clung to him like a second skin.

Aria’s breath caught.

Not from awe—but from rage.

This man had lived while her family died.

And yet… something flickered in her chest. Not sympathy. Not yet. But the tiniest, most infuriating doubt.

Was he the killer she’d always imagined?

Or another piece in a much darker game?

She moved toward him.

Not as Aria Vale.

Not as a victim.

But as Valencia.

The woman who would either expose Damien Voss…

…or destroy him.

Damien felt her presence before he saw her.

It was the kind of awareness he hadn’t known in years. A shift in the air, the subtle disruption of his world’s carefully constructed stillness. He turned slightly, just enough to glance over his shoulder—and there she was.

Valencia Dorn.

At least, that was the name she wore.

She moved like someone used to danger. Graceful, lethal. Her dress was court-appropriate—modest enough for nobility, tailored enough to seduce. But it wasn’t the clothes that caught his attention.

It was her eyes.

Cold. Intelligent. Familiar.

Too familiar.

She stopped beside him at the marble railing, offering only the faintest tilt of her head, like an equal greeting a fellow predator.

“Lord Voss,” she said, voice smooth as black silk. “Congratulations on your upcoming Ascension.”

His lips curled into a faint smile. “You flatter me, Lady Dorn. But I suspect you didn’t come here for pleasantries.”

Aria allowed herself a small smirk. So he was sharp. Good. It would make unraveling him far more satisfying.

“I came to offer a gift,” she replied.

He arched a brow. “Gifts from strangers are dangerous.”

“I’m not a stranger.” She met his gaze without flinching. “Not really.”

Damien’s smile faded slightly. There it was again—that uncanny sense of knowing. He studied her face, her tone, the particular way she held her chin. Something tugged at a memory buried too deep to surface.

And yet… he couldn’t place it.

“Then what are you?” he asked quietly.

Aria leaned in, just enough for him to smell the faint trace of lavender and steel.

“A reminder,” she said. “That even kings bleed.”

She turned before he could respond, her gown whispering against the marble as she melted back into the crowd, vanishing like smoke.

Damien stood still for several heartbeats, staring into the space where she’d been.

He didn’t know who she was.

But she had just declared war.

Later That Night

Aria sat in a rented apartment above a quiet bookstore in the Scholar’s District. Maps and notes covered the table before her, all routes leading toward one inevitable conclusion.

The Voss Citadel.

She touched her father’s letter again, her fingers lingering on the last line.

“Make him remember who he was before they turned him into their weapon”.

But what if he never was anyone else?

She had expected a monster.

Instead, she’d found a man—calculating, composed… and watching her as if he already suspected the truth.

This would not be easy.

But nothing worth avenging ever was.

She opened the vial of black ink and dipped the quill.

Then she drew a name at the top of a new page.

Damien Voss.

Underneath it, she wrote three words.

Observe. Infiltrate. Destroy.