Chapter 20
The grand hallways of House Obrechtz stretched in solemn elegance—tall obsidian pillars wrapped in crimson velvet, magical torches flickering with soft blue flames that cast shadows like flowing silk across the marble floor. Outside, the twin moons bathed the empire in silver light, but inside, a different radiance burned: the awakening glow of a hero.
Ten-year-old Helena Obrechtz stood barefoot on the cold tiles, her black hair tousled from running and her small hands clenched around the edges of her nightgown. A faint golden shimmer pulsed around her—the residue of awakening, of divine power threading into her very soul. She had done it. She had awakened as one of the 16 Heroes.
The joy had been overwhelming at first. The way the light surged through her body. The ancient voice that spoke only to chosen heroes echoing within her thoughts. Her mind was flooded with visions of valor, of defending her family, of a future where no one could harm those she loved. She had sprinted from the awakening chamber with only one thing in her heart: to tell her father, her mother, and her big sister.
But when she arrived at the southern corridor leading to the estate's High Chamber, she came to a halt.
From just beyond the thick oak doors, she could hear voices—two deep, commanding tones she recognized as her father Maximilian and her mother Sophia. Alongside them were others: colder, refined voices that belonged to none other than Grand Duke Velebrandt and his wife, Seraphina. And then... there was another voice. A boy's voice. Smooth. Confident. Almost too polished for his age.
Lucien.
Helena hesitated, drawn to the crack between the two massive doors slightly ajar. Peering in with childlike curiosity, her heartbeat quickened—not from her awakening, but from the unfamiliar anxiety that began to twist her stomach.
There, in the grandeur of the council room lit by floating crystal chandeliers, stood her sister Katarina—elegant and dignified even at fifteen, dressed in formal navy and white robes. Her black hair had been carefully braided, and her black eyes—those mesmerizing voids—were locked onto a silver-haired boy seated beside her, smiling with an air of charming nobility.
Lucien Velebrandt.
His hair gleamed under the chandeliers like liquid starlight. His mismatched red and gray eyes seemed to flicker with amusement as he whispered something to Katarina. To Helena's surprise... Katarina blushed.
Katarina. Her brilliant, untouchable sister. Laughing. Smiling. Talking softly to a boy Helena had never seen before.