“Amon?” Althea repeated with a faint frown, wanting to make sure she hadn’t misheard. “Amon is the na of your ntor?”
Zander nodded once, his gaze steady on her before shifting back to Candice to address the question she had asked earlier. “I don’t know if Althea is the one my ntor ant,” he admitted, voice far calr now. “But the mont I saw the key... I knew I had to find out.”
Althea’s heartbeat quickened, mories from long ago blooming sharply in her mind. “Amon is the na of the man who ntored ,” she murmured softly. “He was my mother’s friend. She and I would et him in the woods when I was still a child. But Amon...”
Her voice faltered. She stared at Zander, struggling for a mont to steady herself. After a slow breath, she continued, “I saw him die when I was ten. He saved and my mother during a bandit chase. I’m... sorry.”
Zander only shook his head, his expression unreadable but not cold. “Don’t be. I’ve long assud it would end that way. Every ti he left our place, he would tell there was no guarantee he’d return. I was prepared for that possibility.”
The silence that settled between them was gentle. Then Althea swallowed and asked quietly, “Where is the box now?”
Zander’s eyes sharpened, understanding instantly what she was implying. The key she carried. The box he kept. Amon’s cryptic instructions. A fate neither of them understood yet.
She had a feeling — no, a certainty — that the box and her key were bound to each other.
And that whatever waited inside it... Was the truth her mother never had the chance to tell her.
Zander tilted his head toward a small stone structure hidden between the trees — old, worn, and covered in vines.
“In there,” he said. “But it won’t open unless you place the key.”
The forest seed to fall into a deeper silence, every pair of eyes watching Althea. She looked at Gavriel.
He didn’t say anything but just nodded once.
The mont Gavriel gave his silent nod, Althea stepped forward. Her heart thudded so loudly she could feel it in her throat. The key around her neck seed heavier than ever, almost as if it knew its purpose was finally being fulfilled.
Zander walked ahead and pushed aside the thick vines covering the stone structure’s entrance. The air inside was cool, untouched, and humming with quiet magic.
He pressed his palm to the stone altar inside. The slab shifted slightly, revealing a small carved indentation where a key would fit. He stepped aside, eyes landing on Althea.
“This is it,” he said, voice low. “Amon told it would open only when the right person inserted the key. Anyone else would trigger a defensive spell. The box is inside of it.”
Althea swallowed, nerves twisting her stomach.
Gavriel stayed close behind her, not touching her but close enough that she felt his presence like a shield. She drew in a breath, lifted the pendant over her head, and gently slid the key into the slot.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then the entire altar glowed. Softly at first, then brighter, spreading lines of pale silver light that traced the ancient carvings across the stone walls.
The box hidden inside the chamber began to pulse as if awakening from centuries of deep sleep.
Candice stepped back. Gavriel’s hand moved to Althea’s waist instinctively. Zander’s expression, however, softened with recognition — like everything was finally aligning.
The box eased open on its own, releasing a faint shimr that danced in the air before fading into the forest’s quiet breeze.
Inside were old journals, tightly bound manuscripts, and one delicate shard that glowed faintly with a warmth that felt... familiar.
Althea reached for the journals first.
They were wrapped in brown cloth, tied with simple string. Her breath hitched when she saw the handwriting on the cover of the first one. Her mother’s handwriting. Her vision blurred for a mont. She traced the first letter with shaking fingers.
Zander stepped beside her, voice barely above a whisper. “Those journals... they weren’t ant to be used like a prophecy. Amon told they were a backup plan. Sothing to keep both of us from being lost if anything went wrong. He and your mother prepared them in secret.”
Althea blinked, stunned. “My mother wrote these... expecting sothing to go wrong?”
Zander nodded. “She was afraid the truth about the Ivanov Clan would die with her. She didn’t want her child — you — to grow up blind to your real bloodline. And Amon... he worried about . He said if anything happened to him, these journals would guide us both.”
Althea looked at him, confused. “Guide you how? Why involve you in sothing ant for ?”
Zander hesitated for a mont, then released a breath as if letting go of sothing he had carried for too long.
“When I was fifteen, Amon finally told the truth. He said I had a cousin. Soone who shared the sa kind of energy I had — the one the other Houses and clans in Velmora feared. They called it chaos, on, unnatural fate. But Amon said it wasn’t darkness. It was potential. Power that only a few in our bloodline were born with.”
He t Althea’s eyes.
“You and I both have it.”
Althea froze. “You an... the strange pull I feel sotis? The way my magic reacts without warning?”
“Yes. I have it too. That’s why Amon said our eting was inevitable. He said fate would bring the two of us together, because our power is tied to the sa origin.”
Gavriel tensed slightly behind her. Not out of threat, but out of instinct as if new information ant new danger.
Althea’s hands trembled as she lifted the first journal.
Inside, ink swirled softly as if protected by an enchantnt. The writing was clear, alive, and painfully intimate. The first line made her breath catch.
‘If this reaches you, my child, it ans fate took a different turn than I hoped.’
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