"Soo… heavy."
A soft grunt escaped Aveline's lips as she mustered all her strength to lift a heavy stack of books onto the shelf, carefully organizing them one by one.
She exhaled, wiping a few beads of sweat from her forehead, but a smile still found its way to her lips.
Aven placed another book on the shelf and turned to look at her.
"Why are we doing this again?"
Aveline paused, then turned to him with a cheerful smile.
"What do you mean? The library hasn't been cleaned in ages. Someone has to do it, right?"
Aven sighed, shaking his head slightly, but he still reached for another book.
Ever since Aven had returned to their family after the tragedy, Aveline had spent every free moment with him, refusing to let him slip away from the world.
She found any excuse to keep him engaged. Horse riding, drawing, sometimes even wandering aimlessly through the forests. It didn't matter what they did, so long as he wasn't left alone with his thoughts.
"We would have maids doing this, but you know how it is."
Aveline smiled, shifting two more books into place.
"I know…"
Throughout the Valthorne mansion, each section was meticulously maintained by dedicated staff. Mortals were hired to ensure the estate remained in peak condition at all times. Cooks prepared exquisite meals, maids dusted the elegant corridors, and gardeners tended the sprawling gardens, making sure not a single leaf was misplaced.
But the library was different.
Unlike the rest of the mansion, this vast hall of knowledge was off-limits to servants. It was a generational treasure of the Valthorne family, a repository of wisdom and history collected over thousands of years. Every book held irreplaceable value, and only those who bore the Valthorne bloodline were permitted to step within its walls.
That was why Aven and Aveline were here now, carefully cleaning the towering shelves and endless volumes themselves.
After placing the final book on the shelf, Aveline clapped her hands together, a satisfied smile on her face, brushing the dust from her palms.
"That should be enough for today, don't you think?"
Aven sank to the floor, leaning back against the sturdy wood of the bookshelf.
"Yeah, I'm happy with it."
The faint smell of old parchment and polished wood hung in the air. Sunlight streamed through the many painted windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the rows of ancient books. Tiny dust particles floated lazily in the warm, tinted light.
Aveline and Aven walked through the corridors of the Valthorne mansion, nodding politely to the maids and butlers they passed.
The staff nodded back with smiles, some offering quiet greetings before going about their tasks. The soft murmur of distant chatter and the faint clinking of dishes from the dining hall echoed down the marble halls. Sunlight spilled through the tall arched windows, painting warm patches on the polished floors
They discussed all sorts of matters, their hands moving spiritedly as they walked down the hall.
They passed room after room, until a large door appeared ahead, slightly ajar with light spilling from the gap. From the room to the left, a firm voice cut through the quiet.
"Lucian, have you dealt with the aftermath of your stupidity in the city?"
Lucian stood upright, keeping his posture rigid.
"Yes, Lord Vael. But the people are getting more restless by the day."
Vael let out a low, thoughtful hum, his expression remaining unreadable.
"I see. You may go."
"Yes, Lord Vael."
Lucian gave a deep bow before turning to leave the room, his footsteps soft against the polished floor.
He stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind him. His gaze met Aven's for a brief moment, and a faint scoff escaped his lips before he turned and walked away, his footsteps fading down the corridor.
Aven's jaw tightened, his teeth clenched as he watched Lucian disappear.
"So he failed in the end."
Aveline noticed the shift in Aven's expression and was just about to ask what was wrong when a voice cut sharply through the wall.
"Aven, step into the office."
Aven sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. Of course, his father had noticed him. How could a rank five not sense him standing right outside?
He managed a small, reassuring smile to Aveline. "I'll be right back."
Pushing the door open, he stepped into the room.
"Greetings, Father."
Aveline leaned against the wall, absentmindedly fiddling with the hem of her dress as she waited for Aven to return.
She couldn't make out the exact words, but the muffled exchange from inside sounded heated. Aven's voice was the loudest, rising and falling with a sharp, almost desperate edge.
After a while, the door swung open with a sharp crack, and Aven stepped out, slamming it shut behind him. His expression was cold, a storm brewing just beneath the surface.
He glanced at Aveline, and she met his gaze with a worried look. For a moment, his jaw tightened, but he forced himself to take a slow breath, easing the tension from his shoulders.
"Let's go for a walk. I need some fresh air."
Aven nodded toward the hallway, signaling for her to follow.
Aveline didn't ask questions. She had heard enough of the heated exchange through the door, and now wasn't the time. Instead, she fell into step beside him, keeping her words light, talking about the weather, a new painting she had started, anything to soften the air between them.
—
In a room bathed in the soft, amber light of the rising sun, a lone figure sat at a desk. The light brushed against his pale face, but his focus remained on the compact, ever-shifting red orb swirling in front of him.
Kael reached toward the edge of the desk, his fingers curling around the final ingredient. A human heart, cold and lifeless, rested in his grasp. He held it firmly, feeling the slight resistance of the flesh beneath his grip. Without hesitation, he raised it over the refinement orb and released it.
The heart began to dissolve almost instantly, thin red streams unraveling from it, drawn into the swirling core of the refinement orb. They twisted and wove together, sinking into the crimson depths.
"Please."
His voice was a quiet whisper, barely more than a breath. His emerald eyes remained locked on the orb, cold and unwavering, unblinking against the growing tension. Shadows danced across his face, the light shifting as the sun continued to rise.
The sun had climbed high into the sky, its light flooding the room with a warm, unforgiving glow. Then Kael noticed it.
"Fu—"
Before he could finish, the orb vanished without a trace.
A sharp, searing pain ripped through his chest. Kael lurched forward, coughing up a mouthful of blood that splattered across the desk. His grip tightened on the edge, using it to steady himself, his knuckles turning white.
He had failed. Again.
He leaned against the desk for a moment, letting the wave of dizziness pass. His vision blurred, but he forced himself to stay upright. With a shaky breath, he grabbed an empty bowl and spat the lingering blood into it, the crimson liquid pooling at the bottom.
"Four failures in a row. Just how bad is my luck?"
His voice was quiet, but there was a bitter edge to it. The light in his emerald eyes dimmed slightly, a flicker of exhaustion creeping in.
These past few weeks, Kael had attempted to refine the mote again and again, barely giving himself enough time for his soul to recover. The mental strain was immense. Most Luminaires would rest for at least a month before trying again, but Kael had forced himself through four consecutive attempts in just two weeks. And now, the mental fatigue was clawing at him, relentless and unbearable.
Doubt had begun to fester in his thoughts. He even found himself questioning the authenticity of the recipe. But he quickly pushed that idea aside. Syleena was in no position to lie about the recipe—not with the circumstances they were in. Yet the thought lingered like a shadow, gnawing at his focus.
Was it the recipe? Or was it him?
"I can't even think straight," he muttered, resting his face in his hands. His voice was a quiet rasp, almost swallowed by the oppressive silence of the room.
His fingers dug into his hair, trying to ground himself, but all he felt was a fog pressing in.
He pushed the chair back and rose from the desk, his movements slow and heavy. His clothes were soaked with his own crimson blood, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
Stumbling toward the bed, he let his legs give out, surrendering to gravity's gentle pull as he collapsed onto the mattress. The springs creaked under his weight, and he lay there motionless, eyes fixed on the ceiling, his mind teetering between exhaustion and a faint sliver of frustration.
His luck was just too bad.