The Missing Seal
Kallen had barely stepped past the outer corridor when the weight in his skull struck.
It was sharp. Commanding. Familiar.
Come back.
He stopped mid-stride, one hand clenching at his temple. "Damn it," he muttered. "I just left."
There was no mistaking that voice. Raven Darward Acosta did not raise his voice when he was angry—he reached instead.
The seal is missing, Raven's voice echoed directly into his mind, cold and coiled with fury.
Return immediately. Abandon the southern route. Wake the court. Every minister. Every servant. I want them in my hall before the hour ends. I do not care if they are dragged from their beds.
Kallen exhaled slowly, irritation dissolving into grim focus. Only those of the Dragon Lineage could communicate so directly—blood calling to blood. As Raven's cousin and right hand, Kallen had grown up hearing that voice in his head during training, war councils, and moments of danger.
Still, the timing was cursed.
"You couldn't have waited five minutes?" he grumbled under his breath, already turning back. "I swear you enjoy this."
There was no reply. Raven never wasted energy on indulgence when anger burned this hot.
Inside the study, Raven stood rigid before his desk. The signet seal—small, blackened gold, etched with the Acosta dragon—was gone. He had noticed it instinctively, the absence screaming louder than its presence ever had. That seal was not merely metal; it was authority, bloodright, and command.
Someone had dared to touch it.
By the time Kallen returned, his irritation was gone. He bowed once. "I'll see to it personally."
"Do," Raven said coldly. "And bring me those who cleaned this room today."
Kallen nodded and turned sharply, already issuing commands. Bells rang through the palace. Messengers pounded on noble doors. Guards stormed servant quarters. Ministers were hauled from sleep, robes thrown on in panic.
Within the hour, the great court was full.
Servants lined the lower steps, heads bowed, hands trembling. Halvra stood among them, face schooled into concern—but her eyes glittered. This was it.
Raven took his seat, silent, unmoving, his presence alone crushing the air from the hall.
"Bring forward those who cleaned my study this morning," he ordered.
The maids stepped forward hesitantly.
Vanella moved with them—calm, straight-backed, expression unreadable. She did not look afraid. She did not look guilty.
Kallen noticed immediately.
Raven's gaze swept the line once… then stilled.
And the accusation began.