Laughter broke out across the back yard, sharp and careless.
"Say that again, Rafael," Luca scoffed, nudging him. "I dare you."
Rafael smirked. "You wouldn't survive it."
The others joined in—voices overlapping, shoulders bumping, easy chaos.
Artavius didn't move with them.
He stood still, just slightly apart, watching.
Not bored. Not interested.
Just… aware.
"Artavius," Rafael called, turning toward him. "You planning to speak today or just haunt us?"
A faint smirk touched Artavius' lips.
Gone just as quickly.
"Depends," he said quietly.
"On?" Luca pushed.
His gaze lifted—slow, unreadable.
"Whether it's worth it."
That was enough.
Rafael let out a low laugh, shaking his head. "See? This is why no one argues with you."
They didn't.
Not really.
There was something about him—something that made people step back without knowing why.
His eyes shifted, scanning the space without effort.
Cold grey.
Still.
Like nothing reached them fully.
"Boss is looking for you," Rafael added after a second.
This time, Artavius didn't respond.
But he moved.
Inside, the air felt different.
Quieter.
Heavier.
Each step echoed softer against the floor as he walked past the corridor he knew too well.
Then—
voices.
He stopped.
"…this isn't something we can afford to mishandle," the leader said.
Another voice followed. Lower. More cautious.
"You're targeting the wrong family."
A pause.
Then the name—
"Arthur Sylvester's daughter."
Something shifted.
Small.
But real.
Artavius' fingers curled slightly at his side.
Not fear.
Not hesitation.
Just… awareness.
He shouldn't have stayed.
But he did.
"She's protected," the second voice continued. "You know what this could turn into."
The leader exhaled slowly.
"That's exactly why it has to be done right."
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Decisive.
Artavius stepped back before they could notice.
His heartbeat—steady.
Too steady.
He walked to his room, closing the door behind him with quiet precision.
For a moment, he just stood there.
Still.
Then his gaze dropped.
To his arm.
The faint star-shaped mark.
Unfamiliar.
Unanswered.
His fingers brushed over it lightly.
A habit.
Or maybe a question.
Arthur Sylvester's daughter.
His jaw tightened—barely.
This wasn't fear.
It wasn't doubt.
But something about this—
made his pulse shift… just once.
he didn't know that his destiny is waiting for him