CHAPTER FOUR:The Heir Of Shadows

The first time Elara saw the tower, she knew it wasn’t meant for her.

It rose from the far side of the house like a dark finger pointing at the sky—narrow, tall, and always closed. No windows faced her wing. No one ever walked toward it unless they wore black suits and silence.

She asked Nyra once.

“What’s in the tower?”

Nyra’s hands paused over the teacups. “History,” she said carefully. “The kind people don’t survive remembering.”

Elara didn’t ask again.

But curiosity doesn’t die just because it’s ignored.

Cassian began bringing her books—not random ones, but books about power, empires, and old wars.

“You think I’m going to study in my own prison?” Elara asked.

“No,” he said. “I think you deserve to understand the world that decided your fate.”

She flipped through one. “These are about men who thought they were gods.”

“And women who were forced to clean up after them.”

She looked at him. “Which one are you?”

Cassian didn’t answer.

But later, she realized that was already an answer.

That evening, voices rose in the lower halls.

Not shouting—controlled anger, which was more dangerous.

Elara stood near her door, listening.

“…you’re weakening,” Silas Dray said.

“I’m stabilizing,” Cassian replied.

“By softening.”

“She’s not an object.”

“She’s an asset.”

“She’s a person.”

Silence followed.

Then Silas spoke again, colder. “If you forget your role, I will remind you.”

Footsteps moved away.

Cassian passed Elara’s door.

He didn’t look at it.

But she knew he knew she was there.

The next day, Elara was allowed into a new section of the house—the west wing.

It held portraits.

Dozens of them.

Men in dark coats. Women with sharp eyes. Families posed like kingdoms.

She stopped in front of one painting.

A woman stood in red velvet, her hand resting on the shoulder of a young boy.

The plaque beneath it read:

Seraphine Dray — Keeper of the First Oath

“Who is she?” Elara asked.

Cassian stood behind her. “The woman who built this legacy with blood and memory.”

“She looks kind.”

“She was ruthless.”

Elara turned. “Those two things aren’t opposites.”

Cassian studied her. “No. They’re often partners.”

They walked deeper into the hall.

Every face looked powerful.

Every story felt heavy.

“Where are the failures?” Elara asked.

Cassian raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Every empire has people who lost. Where are they?”

He stopped walking.

“They’re not painted.”

“Because they’re ashamed?”

“No,” he said. “Because they’re forgotten.”

She felt cold. “Is that what happens to people who stop obeying?”

“Sometimes.”

Elara met his eyes. “What happens to people who try to change things?”

Cassian’s voice was quiet. “They become enemies.”

That night, Elara dreamed she was standing in front of the portraits—but the faces were blank. Every time she tried to look closer, the paint ran like bloodless tears.

She woke with her heart racing.

The house was silent.

Too silent.

She opened her door.

The guards were gone.

She didn’t think so.

She walked.

Her feet carried her down halls she wasn’t meant to know, guided by something between instinct and defiance.

She reached the tower.

The door was unlocked.

That terrified her more than if it had been sealed.

Inside, stairs spiraled upward.

She climbed.

Each step felt like crossing into something that didn’t belong to her.

At the top was a single room.

In the center stood a table.

On it lay a book bound in dark red velvet.

The Velvet Oath.

Her hands trembled as she touched it.

The cover felt warm.

She opened it.

The pages were not stories.

They were names.

Hundreds of them.

Each followed by dates. Promises. Consequences.

She turned the page.

And froze.

Mara Vale — Keeper by Blood

Below it:

Elara Vale — Successor

Her breath caught.

Successor to what?

She flipped through faster.

Every “keeper” had died young. Some disappeared. Some were executed. Some simply vanished.

They were not honored.

They were used.

Footsteps echoed below.

“Elara,” Cassian’s voice called sharply.

She turned.

He appeared in the doorway, face pale with fury and fear.

“You were not meant to be here.”

“You weren’t meant to own me,” she replied.

He stepped closer. “That book isn’t what you think.”

“It’s worse.”

She held it up. “They all died. That’s the oath, isn’t it? One life protecting a secret until it can’t anymore.”

His jaw tightened.

“You’re lying to me,” she said. “Every day.”

“I’m protecting you.”

“No. You’re preparing me.”

“For survival.”

“For sacrifice.”

Silence crushed the air.

Cassian whispered, “You don’t know what happens if the secret is revealed.”

“Then tell me!”

He closed his eyes.

“When the first oath was made, two syndicates tried to rule everything. Their war killed thousands. A woman—Seraphine—ended it by creating a secret so dangerous that if exposed, it would destroy both sides forever.”

Elara’s voice shook. “What is the secret?”

“The truth about who really caused the war,” Cassian said. “And who still profits from it.”

“Your family.”

“Yes.”

Elara felt sick.

“So I exist to protect criminals from justice.”

“You exist to prevent another massacre.”

“By letting murderers rule?”

Cassian’s voice broke. “By keeping the city alive.”

She stepped back. “You don’t want peace. You want control.”

“And you think chaos is better?”

“No,” she said. “I think the truth is.”

Below them, alarms began to ring.

Guards shouted.

Cassian turned sharply. “We’ve been breached.”

“Nyx,” Elara whispered.

Cassian grabbed her arm—not hard, but urgent. “We have to go.”

“No,” she said. “I’m not running anymore.”

“You don’t understand what they’ll do with you.”

“I understand what you’ll do with me.”

Explosions shook the lower floors—not loud, not bloody, but terrifying.

The house was under attack.

Cassian looked at her.

For the first time, he didn’t look like an heir.

He looked like a boy raised inside a storm.

“Choose,” he said. “Me—or them.”

Elara lifted her chin. “I choose myself.”

She ran past him, down the stairs, toward the chaos—toward danger, truth, and a future no oath had written yet.

Behind her, Cassian whispered:

“So did I. Once.”