The Outer Estate of House Avernus lay beyond the main city roads, hidden behind rolling hills and old blackwood barriers, as if the family wanted to pretend its future did not yet exist.
No grand banners hung here.
No ceremonial statues stood to inspire them.
Only cold stone, iron fencing, and the quiet presence of armed house knights pacing the walls. It was not a home. It was an anvil, where children were left to see if they would break. Every child of Avernus was sent here before their tenth year. Not as heirs. Not as sons. Just as candidates.
The estate existed for one purpose: to temper bodies and tear weakness from flesh before bloodlines and names even mattered.
Jude had lived here since he was five. The days followed one another in strict patterns. Dawn brought physical training. Afternoon brought posture drills, balance lessons, muscle conditioning.
Evening brought lectures on sword history, discipline, and House law. Every corridor smelled faintly of medicinal herbs and old iron. Every floor had seen blood. There were dozens of children scattered across the estate, but closeness never formed.
Friendships were discouraged, bonds weakened by design. You did not need allies, they said. You needed a spine.
Jude Avernus had learned early that a spine didn't have to be loud.
He was eight years old now, small for his age, with dark hair always slightly unkempt and eyes too quiet for a child born into a war-blood family. His rooms were cold at night, colder in winter, and even colder when his two elder brothers decided they were bored.
Vin and Vex.
Two years older. Bigger. Louder. Already showing signs of promise, according to their instructors. They didn't need to prove anything here.
They already knew they were returning to the main estate one day with swords waiting for them. Jude was just in the way.
That evening, a low sky pressed against the black roof tiles as the last training bell faded. Most of the children returned silently to their chambers. Jude washed the dust from his hands carefully, methodically, as he always did.
His movements were precise, quiet. He preferred quiet. His room was small: a narrow bed, a wooden desk, a shelf for training manuals. A single narrow window cracked open for winter air. He had just sat down when the door pushed open without knocking. Vin entered first.
He always did.
Vex followed, leaning lazily against the doorway, arms crossed, watching like a spectator rather than a brother. Jude didn't look up.
Vin snorted. "You're cleaning again." Jude continued wiping his hands. "It's required." "Not for rats," Vin replied. His boot scraped forward. "Only for those who think they might be something." Jude finally lifted his head.
"What do you want?"
Vex pushed off the wall. "You always ask that like we came to talk." Vin stepped closer. His shadow stretched across the wooden floor, swallowed Jude's feet. "You've been too quiet lately." Jude blinked.
"I'm always quiet." "That's the problem."
Vin leaned down, gripping the edge of Jude's desk. "People who don't make noise get stepped on." Jude stared back without flinching. Vex laughed. "See? No fear.
He thinks that's strength." Vin straightened. "It's not." He shoved the desk. Wood scraped. Ink spilled. Jude's brow moved slightly—just slightly. Not in anger. Not in shock.
It was more irritation than anything else. "Pick it up," Vin said. Jude didn't move. Vin's jaw tightened. "Pick it up." Silence. Then Vin kicked the leg of the chair.
This time Jude stood. Slowly. Not reacting. Not rushing. Just rising, as if following some invisible rule older than any lesson they had taught him. Vin tilted his head. "You gonna cry now?" "No," Jude said. "You came here to feel bigger." Vex cracked his knuckles. "You talk like a corpse." Jude stepped forward. One step.
The air felt tighter. Vin laughed. "Don't tell me you think you can do anything? You can barely pass strength conditioning." Jude said nothing.
Not because he had no answer. Because words wouldn't change what Vin was about to do. Vin swung first. Not clean. Not trained. Just raw anger, fast and heavy. Jude shifted. Not backwards. To the side.
Vin's fist passed air. His balance slipped. Jude's palm struck his wrist. No strength behind it. Just placement. Vin hissed in surprise and swung again. Jude stepped inside the motion this time, pivoting with his body.
His shoulder brushed past Vin's chest, his foot sliding against the wooden floor in a tight arc.
He remembered something. Not from this life. But deeper. A stance. A foundation. A concept. Not sword. Body.
Vin stumbled. "Try again," Jude said quietly. Vex's expression shifted. Vin snarled and charged. No technique. Just force. Jude let him. He ducked low. Twisted his hips. One hand on Vin's sleeve, the other on his forearm.
Using his brother's momentum, he turned. The world tilted for Vin. And then he hit the floor. Hard. The impact echoed. Vex's smirk disappeared. Vin swore, scrambling up. "You—!" He came faster now. Wilder.
Jude breathed out slowly. He didn't dodge this time. He met him. Forearm to forearm.
A dull shock passed through his bones. Pain sparked, but he welcomed it. Pain meant real. He stepped forward instead of back, moving into Vin's blind zone the way bodies naturally tried to avoid.
A hand struck his collarbone, not hard—but precisely. Vin choked on his breath. Jude didn't let up. A sweep of the leg. A push of the shoulder. A twist of balance. Vin fell again. This time he didn't get up right away.
The room had changed. Air thick. Silence sharp. Vex stared. "…Do that again," he said. Jude didn't respond. Vex's stance shifted. He wasn't amused anymore. He attacked. Unlike Vin, Vex had structure.
He trained seriously. He had speed. Jude barely had time to adjust. A fist grazed his cheek. He tasted blood. His body reacted before thought. He mirrored. Step in. Guard raised. An elbow barely missed his jaw. He caught Vex's wrist. Vex pulled back like lightning. Jude barely followed.
They circled in that small room, furniture scraping, breath tightening.
Two boys born all Avernus. One with training. One with memory. Vex lunged again. Jude finally struck back. He aimed for the ribs. A short, clean movement. Vex grunted. Jude followed. He didn't go wild. He didn't shout. He moved precisely. Like he had practiced for years.
Like he had practiced in another life. Every strike was a calculation. Every step a correction. Vex tried to overpower him. He failed. Jude twisted his wrist behind his back and drove him forward.
Vin had just gotten to his knees. Jude released Vex and stepped forward, grabbing Vin by the collar. He saw fear there now. Real fear. "You came because I was quiet," Jude said. His voice was soft. "Did silence scare you?" Vin tried to strike.
Jude dodged and slammed him into the desk. Wood cracked. Ink spilled. Vex charged again. Jude turned and kicked. Not violently. Just with timing. Vex fell hard against the door.
The room fell quiet. Breath and broken pride. Vin and Vex lay on the floor, panting, bruised, stunned. Jude stood between them. Small. Still. Not proud. Not smiling. Just breathing. Then the door creaked. Heavy footsteps. Steel on stone.
The presence alone sucked the air dry. Jude turned. The House Guardian stood at the doorway. Massive. Silent. Cloaked in armour. His gaze traveled slowly over the destroyed room, the broken desk, the blood on Jude's lip, the two older boys lying on the floor.
Then his eyes settled on Jude. "What happened here?" the guardian asked. His voice was like stone grinding against stone. Jude didn't flinch. He didn't look away. He simply said, "They deserved it."
The guardian studied him for a long moment. Deep. Silent. Unblinking. Then he glanced at Vin and Vex, still trying to regain air. "Return to your rooms," he ordered them.
They didn't argue. They limped past Jude without looking at him. The door closed. The guardian looked once more at the boy standing alone in the ruined room.
"You don't speak like a child."
Jude wiped the blood at the corner of his mouth with his sleeve. "I'm not one," he replied. The guardian's gaze sharpened slightly. "Careful," he said. "Those who grow too fast usually break." Jude looked down at his hands. At the trembling that was only now beginning. "Then I'll just have to become something that doesn't." The guardian said no more.
He turned and left. And for the first time since his rebirth… House Avernus had noticed him.