Sons of a devil

Back at the manor, the rain hadn't stopped. It poured against the windows like the sky itself was warning them. Cain carried Selene in his arms, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. He gently set her on the bed in his room, pulling a blanket over her and brushing a wet strand of hair from her cheek.

She stirred slightly. "You came for me..."

"I'll always come for you," Cain whispered.

Downstairs, the tension between the brothers was like a crackling wire.

"She's back," Leo said, pacing. "But that thing in the woods—Silas—he's not just some rogue. Did you feel that energy? It was like hell broke open."

Eren leaned against the wall, arms folded, jaw tight. "He knew our names. He knew about Selene. He's not random. He's connected to us somehow."

Their mother, Amara, walked in, slower than before but standing straighter every day. Her silver-streaked hair was braided, and her eyes glowed faintly—like old stars just beginning to flicker again.

"You boys are no longer just the sons of a devil," she said. "You are the sons of a dying legacy. And Silas... he may be your kin."

Cain, who had just entered the room, froze. "What?"

"He's not your brother," Amara clarified. "But he carries your father's essence—split long ago when your father tried to remove a part of himself to protect you. That fragment lived on, formed a mind of its own. Silas is that mind."

Leo rubbed his temple. "You mean Silas is a walking piece of Dad's soul?"