The Flame's Ascent

The walk back from the Aurial Market was quiet, the cobblestones slick from the earlier rain. Lynx and Vera passed through the winding streets of Caelion, their hoods pulled low as they maneuvered through the lingering crowds. The tension in the air, left by the soldiers' sudden appearance, still clung to the city like a heavy mist.

"They're pushing harder," Vera murmured, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft, almost thoughtful, but there was a sharp edge to it. "It's not just the market. I've heard reports of searches in Briarhollow, even near the outskirts of Drakehaven."

Lynx glanced at her, his mismatched eyes narrowing. "And what are they looking for?"

"Artifacts," she replied simply. "Old things. Things the queen probably wants locked away."

Lynx let the words hang between them. His mind wandered back to the glowing runes on the necklace at the jeweler's stall, the way the merchant's hands had hesitated when he'd asked about its origins. He wondered how many other secrets the market held, how many whispers traveled beneath the noise of everyday life.

They turned a corner, the buildings shifting from narrow, leaning structures to the more rigid and ornate designs of the noble district. The Fenwyk estate stood at the edge, its dark stone walls an unassuming but steadfast presence in the midst of grandeur. Vera paused at the gate, her blue eyes scanning the surrounding streets.

"You're not coming in?" Lynx asked, already knowing her answer.

Vera shook her head. "I should get back. Veryl will start another 'project' if I leave him alone too long."

Lynx smirked. "Another masterpiece in chaos, I'm sure."

"Always," she replied, though there was a softness to her smile. "Be careful, Lynx. Whatever's brewing out there... it's closer than we think."

He watched her retreat into the shadows before turning toward the estate. Inside, the familiar scent of iron and parchment greeted him. The main hall was quiet, save for the faint hum of the enchanted sconces lining the walls. He found his father in the study, as always, hunched over a workbench scattered with tools and half-finished artifacts.

"You're late," Lord Ardyn Fenwyk said without looking up, his hands steady as he etched runes into a small metallic orb.

"I went to the market," Lynx replied, leaning against the doorway.

Ardyn grunted. "And what trouble did you manage to avoid?"

"Nothing worth mentioning," Lynx said casually, though his thoughts lingered on the soldiers. "They're ramping up searches, though. Artifacts, apparently."

At that, Ardyn paused. He straightened, setting the orb aside carefully. His dark reddish hair, streaked with gray, caught the soft light of the sconces as he turned to face his son.

"Artifacts," he repeated, his tone measured. "Did they say why?"

"No," Lynx admitted. "But Vera thinks they're after something old. Something powerful."

Ardyn's gaze hardened. "That doesn't surprise me. Power always draws attention—especially the kind that's better left buried."

Lynx frowned. "What kind of power?"

For a moment, his father didn't answer. The silence stretched thin between them before Ardyn sighed and gestured for Lynx to sit.

"Our family's history isn't as simple as the other houses'," Ardyn began, his voice low. "You've heard the stories of the founders, how they wielded magic to build this kingdom. But the truth is, not all of that magic was theirs to begin with. Some of it was taken—stolen from places, people, and powers that should never have been disturbed."

Lynx leaned forward, his interest piqued. "And we're tied to that somehow?"

Ardyn nodded. "The Fenwyks have always been makers. Crafters of tools, artifacts, and weapons. But our skill wasn't born from ingenuity alone. It came from the remnants of that stolen magic, passed down through the generations."

Lynx's mismatched eyes flickered with something between curiosity and unease. "So why would the queen care about old artifacts now?"

Ardyn's expression darkened. "Because the rebellion isn't just a political threat. If they've found something tied to the founders' magic, it could upend everything. The queen knows this, and she'll do whatever it takes to stop it."

The weight of his father's words settled heavily on Lynx. He thought of the whispers in the market, the tension in Vera's voice, and the soldiers' watchful eyes. Something was shifting beneath the surface of their world, and he wasn't sure how long they could avoid being pulled into it.

Ardyn placed a hand on his shoulder, his grip firm. "Stay cautious, Lynx. The less attention we draw, the safer we'll be."

Lynx nodded, though his mind was already racing. The quiet hum of the study seemed louder now, filled with unspoken questions and the promise of something far greater than either of them could see.