“Not all,” Vaelen said, voice grave. “Only the public ones. I was tasked by Queen Elyria herself to hide what little remained. The King does not know, but the Queen knew. She suspected your existence even then.”
Thaelyn looked up sharply. “Why?”
“Because of your mother,” he said. “Elenira Taranveil was a Seer once. Like the Queen. They trained together in secret before the council severed the path of the Sight from bloodlines considered dangerous.”
“So my mother was?—”
“She was powerful,” Vaelen confirmed. “Too powerful. When the council learned she had somehow awakened the part of Aether to bond or break dragons, they turned on her. She fled, cloaked by her dragon, and gave birth in the wilds. Only a handful of us knew where the child was hidden.”
Thaelyn stepped away, trying to breathe past the pressure building in her chest. Her thoughts raced, memories of strangedreams, of her mother’s worried glances, of a childhood filled with silence and stories about who she might become.
“All this time,” she said, her voice barely audible, “I thought I was no one. Just a girl who was unlucky. I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t Maeriel tell me? Why keep it secret?”
“Because of the power with the potential to call dragons and possibly even control dragons, if anyone knew a Taranveil survived, they might try to control you, or worse, use you.”
Thaelyn took a shaky step back, clutching the edge of the desk. Her vision swam with fragments of memory, Maeriel’s quiet sorrow, her warnings not to draw too much attention, her insistence that Thaelyn never show her strength unless forced.
All of it. All of it had been a shield.
“And what of my mother and the name Taranveil?” she asked.
“It is believed that she died after you were born. The Taranveil name was erased from the records. Purged along with every house that defied the Elemental Council or sought to wield Aether without permission. But some of us remembered.”
Vaelen opened the small wooden box, revealing a ring set with a stone the color of stormlight, violet swirled with silver.
“Your mother wore this,” he said. “It was passed down through the bloodline. When you touch it, the sigil will reveal itself.”
Thaelyn reached for it with trembling fingers.
The moment her skin touched the metal, a whisper of power surged through her. The ring glowed faintly, and the winged storm-crown flared to life beneath the surface of the stone.
Vaelen stepped back, reverent. “The blood remembers. Even if you do not.”
Thaelyn closed her fist around the ring and pressed it to her chest.
“So what now?” she asked.
Vaelen moved from behind the desk and came to stand beside her. His hand rested gently on her shoulder.
“You are the storm reborn. A child of fire and wind. A bearer of a name that once summoned dragons from the skies without horn or call. You are Taranveil. Your bloodline is tied to them; itcalls dragons. Some would argue that you might even be able to control them. And because your blood is with Aether, you may be the key to it all.”
“What does that mean, my blood being mixed with Aether? I don’t understand.”
“Aether can mend fractures in a bond, deepen the connection between rider and dragon, or help two dragons synchronize their instincts more intensely. Some dragons carry ancestral traits hidden for centuries. Aether can bring these traits back, such as enhanced speed, heightened telepathy, elemental surges, and ancient battle instincts. If two dragons were once Prime Bonded or tied by fate, Aether can reignite the echo of that connection. This affects their riders as well, pulling them together and sharpening shared senses. Aether can create or release a prime bond. Aether can control the dragons. Aether can reach past the physical world and touch the dragon’s mind. It can calm a berserk dragon or bring one back from a feral state if the rider has developed strong enough control. Dragons can bend to the will of Aether. Aether can heal a dragon’s internal magic channels, something no elemental healer can do. This is vital to their survival, and if a dragon is wounded by dark magic or Rift corruption. You are not guaranteed all these things, but they are possible. We will have to wait and see what you develop. But the fact that you could is dangerous enough. You could control it all. Because of this, you will be hunted.”
Thaelyn clenched her fists. “Kaen.”
“Yes, but not only him. There are others, old bloodlines, lost houses, secret orders. The moment you manifested Aether, they began to move,” Vaelen said. “There’s more,” he breathed.
He opened the cabinet and withdrew a scroll wrapped in silver thread. He undid the black silk, revealing a long scroll sealed with wax and pressed with a sigil she had never seen before, twin wings circling a storm crown. A mark older than anything she had studied at the Asgar Training Academy. He cracked the seal.
Thaelyn leaned forward as he unrolled the parchment. The writing was elegant, unfamiliar, but Vaelen began to read it aloud, translating as he went.
“‘To those sworn to the Stormblood Oath,” he read. “‘If you are reading this, the gates of Aeromir have fallen. I place into your care my granddaughter, born of fire and wind, last of my line. My son, the prince, has perished. The child’s name is Thaelyn Taranveil. She carries the blood of House Aeromir. She will be my heir, next in line for the throne. She must be hidden, protected, and never told, until the Aether stirs again.’”
Silence fell between them.
Thaelyn sat motionless, her lips parted slightly, her breath shallow.
