Zander.
The same quiet intensity. The same edge of knowing too much.
And that power, it had been thought lost for generations. A power buried in myth. Until him.
Alahathrial’s expression didn’t shift. He didn’t gloat. He didn’t even smile. He just… waited.
“Son,” he said again, his voice steady.
Zander laughed, bitter and hollow. “That’s impossible.”
Alahathrial stepped forward, his hands folded calmly in front of him, his presence too large for the room, even in this cage of velvet and carved stone.
“No,” he said, “it’s simply been hidden. Like I was.”
Zander didn’t speak.
So Alahathrial did.
“Your mother,” he began quietly, “was the Queen of Warriath. A formidable woman. Fierce. Loyal. Bound to a man who lacked the bloodline the kingdom demanded. King Rayneis powerful politically, but magically… lacking. At least for the power he was looking for.”
Zander flinched, like the words were too real.
“The king and queen had three heirs,” Alahathrial continued. “But the council grew impatient that they could not stop the Blood Fae incursions. The queen was desperate. Your…father grew resentful. And I—” he paused, eyes meeting Zander’s, “I have always observed the comings and goings of the royal house. I knew your mother from a distance at first. Then closer. I wore his face when the time was right.”
Zander’s hands curled into fists.
“She didn’t know at first,” Alahathrial said gently. “But in time… she did.”
“You’re lying,” Zander said, the words tight, as if they’d been dragged from his throat.
“I’m not,” Alahathrial said. “It’s why you have my eyes. Why your power runs deeper than any heir in centuries.”
He stepped closer, but not too close.
“You weren’t born to inherit the throne, Zander. You were born to open a door to something far older, something forgotten.”
He turned his head then, eyes landing on me.
“But it’s not just you they need.”
His voice was quieter but heavier.
“It’s her too.”
And suddenly, everything I thought I understood cracked beneath my feet.
The truth wasn’t just inconvenient.
It was shattering.
Zander’s face twisted, rage flickering behind his eyes like lightning before a storm.
“You expect me to believe this?” he snapped, voice cutting like a blade. “That the Queen of Warriath, my mother, let afae imposterinto her bed? That sheknew?”
Alahathrial didn’t flinch. He watched Zander with unnerving calm, like every outburst was a necessary step toward an inevitable truth.
“You’re lying,” Zander spat. “My father would beappalled.”
