The Fourth Child

Later… Galir found Bilia in the corner of the living room, her small frame hunched as though she was still trying to make herself invisible. When her wide eyes lifted and met his, the pressure in his chest cracked open. She rushed into his arms and he folded her against him, holding so tightly he was afraid he might hurt her. But she clung just as hard, trembling, burying her face in his tunic.

For a moment, he could barely breathe. The memory of Lantar’s twisted grin and that crimson magic still clung to his skin, the sword slick in his hand, the body hitting the ground. He had killed. And yet, her warmth, her small arms, her breath hitching in sobs, he would do it again. He pressed his face into her hair and whispered to himself, voice rough, “It was worth it. I’d do it again, Bilia. Always.”

Her tears dampened his shoulder, but her shaking began to ease. He tightened his hold and told the image of that dead body over and over that it was worth it.

*****

Kade sat apart, his back propped against one of the broken beams near the wide window. Blue light stirred faintly around him, restless, never quite settling. He kept his gaze fixed on it as though it might turn on him at any moment.

Ayen plopped down on the floor beside him, as if the wreckage was just another stage for one of her careless games. “The first time it happened to me,” she said lightly, “I couldn’t tell if I was awake or inside an illusion. Walked into a doorframe three times before my father caught me.”

Kade didn’t answer right away. He didn’t laugh the way he might have before. But he looked at her, and the silence stretched. He could feel it, her fear, beneath the joking tone, sharp and tight. He hadn’t felt people like this before, hadn’t known how raw it was, how much could be read from the threads of their emotions.

She squinted at him. “Why are you so quiet? That’s weird. You’re supposed to be the noisy one.”

Kade tilted his head. “You were scared,” he said simply. “When you said you couldn’t tell illusion from reality. I could feel it.”

Ayen froze, just a fraction, before her grin spread again. “Oh, brilliant. My father’s right, it is annoying when I do that surface-thought trick. Guess you’ve joined the circle. Welcome.”

His brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”

“You’re reading emotions,” she said, tapping his chest with two fingers. “Skimming what’s on the surface. Don’t get too excited, though. It’s only reliable half the time. People are messy. Too many thoughts, too many feelings. Hard to tell which one is the truth.”

Kade let that sink in, staring at the restless glow flickering around his hand. Too many thoughts. Too many parts. “I don’t think people have…new identities made up,” he murmured. “But I do. Magic made me someone else.” He looked back at her, eyes searching. “Why were you scared when you said it? I thought you liked illusions.”

Her grin faltered. She looked past him, out at the ruin of the courtyard. “Because one day, I won’t know the difference anymore. That’s what happens to us, strong Flame of Grace sorcerers. And I am strong.” Her voice dipped, stripped of playfulness. “That’s why I’m going to the Calling. The Others are the reason for this curse. If it’s going to destroy me anyway, I’ll use it first. I’ll make them pay.”

Kade stared at her for a long time. Then, unexpectedly, his lips curved into a faint smile. “You’re very brave.”

Her eyes flicked toward him, quick, almost startled.

But he wasn’t looking at her. His gaze had drifted upward, through the massive window where the early morning light poured in. “I wasn’t as strong at the end,” he said softly. “I gave up.”

Ayen blinked. “At the end?”

He shrugged, gesturing faintly at the broken beams and shattered stone. “Akalis is going to have a fit when she sees this place.”

That drew a laugh out of her. “Oh, I’ll be well out of the fire line. But I do wish you luck.”

Something in him loosened, and he chuckled too, quiet, but real. The hollow in his chest wasn’t gone, but for a moment it didn’t bite so hard. Maybe…maybe it didn’t matter so much who he had been before. Not as much as who he decided to become.

****

The chamber was all stone and silence, built to intimidate. A round table of darkwood dominated the space, with three seats on one side raised slightly higher than the chair placed opposite.

Hanel sat alone in that lower seat. His golden Marked coat was neatly buttoned, his hands resting still, but fatigue clung to him like a shadow. He had not slept since the night before.

Across from him, the representatives of the Lunar Triad orders waited. Mador of the Golden Tower, broad-shouldered and heavy-set, leaned back with arms crossed. His voice had already proved blunt and querulous. Orsel of the Silver Tower sat with violet hair pulled over a shoulder, her soft eyes betraying sharpness enough to dissect whoever was in front of her. Beside them, Velis sat in scarlet, quiet and composed, representing the Red Order.

Mador began. “Why did you not contain the breach immediately, Marked Hanel Dathir?”

His voice rang with practiced performance.

Hanel’s own voice was calm. “Because I was at a disadvantage, I judged that the best course was for me to stall until backup arrives. I drew the enemy into battle and kept them occupied. My choice was not between containment and protection. I could only protect.”

Mador snorted. “And yet the children were taken.”

The words struck like a hammer. Ringing with accusation. Hanel did not flinch, though his chest tightened. “I broke the wheels of the carriage to prevent their escape. I intended to free the children afterward. But the attackers forced me back into combat. I could not split myself.”

“The Badania children were unharmed, and Bilia Badania was the only target saved,” Orsel pressed softly.

Her eyes slid sideways to Velis, a reminder that he had needed to step in to save the day.

Velis remained silent.

She leaned forward. “Or is it that your concern for the Badainas outweighed your duty to the other families?”

The insinuation landed like a knife.

Hanel’s composure cracked for the first time. “I protected all I could. You sit here and measure duty in what-ifs and accusations. I lived it. I made the choices that were before me, not the ones you invent now.”

The silence stretched.

Orsel’s voice softened, but only to sharpen the edge. “The children are gone, Hanel. Someone must bear responsibility. If not you, then who?”

Hanel’s jaw tightened. He was walking into the trap, and he knew it. Akalis would have danced around this while having fun, he thought bitterly. But I was never a politician. Only a soldier.

He drew in a breath. “I’ve given you my full report. If you need someone to blame, say so plainly, and I’ll answer plainly. But I won’t sit here and be circled by words that serve no purpose.”

Mador slammed a hand on the table. “Do you speak so to the Triad’s representatives?”

Hanel’s eyes did not waver. “I speak so as a man who has nothing to hide.”

The air went taut.

Then Velis spoke for the first time. His voice was quiet but clear, cutting through the tension effortlessly. “Hanel Dathir has given us his account. I recommend his time be better spent aiding our investigation rather than repeating what we already know. If the goal is to recover the children, we should turn our attention to the prisoners. They hold answers, not him.”

Orsel’s lips tightened, but she did not contradict him.

Mador grumbled, settling back. “Very well.”

The meeting was adjourned.

Hanel stood, every part of him aching. He could feel the net closing around him, the need for a scapegoat sharpening in the air. He had seen these games before. He had walked away from them once, long ago. But now, with the children lost and politics at play, they might not let him walk away again.

As he turned toward the door, Velis’s voice followed him. “Hanel.”

He looked back. The Toliar was already rising, his expression unreadable.

“Let us speak,” Velis said. “There is something you should hear.”

*****

The Red Tower rose higher than Hanel expected. He had only ever seen it from the city’s streets, startling in its contrast with Lunavin’s layered skyline. Velis guided him inside without a word, their boots clicking against polished stone as they rode the lift upwards, far past the levels where common officers or clerks would ever set foot.

By the time they stepped into Velis’s office, Hanel was quietly stunned, even though he should have expected it Velis was a Toliar and a member of the Lunar Triad representation.

The room itself was not large, but it was placed high, high enough that the sun’s light poured through a vast window, illuminating the edges of the desk and shelves lined with old tomes. Influence, respect. Velis was far more than the stern, by-the-book man people whispered about.

“Please,” Velis said simply, gesturing toward a chair.

Hanel sat, trying not to look as weary as he felt.

Velis leaned against the desk. “I have been researching the archives.”

That sentence alone made Hanel look sharply at him. “The archives require approval from the Ruling Three themselves.”

Velis’s lips twitched, not quite a smile. “I have an approval.”

Of course he did. Hanel studied him again, reassessing. Younger than him by at least a decade, yes, but power hung on him like an invisible mantle. Palpable, even in stillness.

“That’s how you knew how to reach Kade, isn’t it?” Hanel asked.

This time, Velis did smile briefly. “Yes. I stumbled upon…old histories. Tellings.” He paused, then asked, “What do you know of the fourth child of Mother Moon?”

Hanel blinked. His voice came slowly. “That he died in the First War, before the veil was sealed. His name is remembered only in passing.”

Velis nodded. “Not much is written. But enough. The fourth flame was blue; the Flame of Change. Emotion made manifest. You know that red is Mother Moon’s Will and passion. Gold her Form and structure. Silver is her Grace, her veil. But this flame... this one is different. And yet, still one of the four. It could connect to the soul itself.”

The words slid into Hanel’s chest like a blade of ice. He thought of Kade’s hollow eyes, the way his magic had tangled with that woman’s.

Velis continued. “It is not so different from Will Oath’s. Consent is the key to all Flames. One cannot intrude without it. But consent is not always given in words. It can be felt. Invited or invoked innocently.”

Hanel exhaled, understanding in a rush. “That woman, Eurnar, she must have given permission. Even in spite. And Kade, being who he is, reached for her. And you…” His eyes narrowed. “You invited him in as well. That is how you brought him back.”

Velis inclined his head once. Then, almost casually, he pulled a small leather-bound notebook from his desk and handed it over. “I wrote down what I found. You will not have access to the archives themselves, but this…may help him.”

Hanel accepted it with both hands. The weight of it was small, but the gift was staggering. “Why?” he asked softly. “Why are you doing this?”

Velis met his gaze evenly. “Because no one should live with power they don’t understand; it could be a chain they never chose.”

Something in the way he said it tightened Hanel’s throat. He looked down at the notebook, then back up at Velis, at the unbending posture, the careful neutrality. There was more here. Much more.

Hanel asked before he could stop himself. “Why were you searching the archives in the first place?”

The silence stretched. Velis’s jaw shifted, the faintest motion. At last, he said, “I wanted to find a way to break a binding oath.”

The air went still. The words themselves were dangerous, treasonous even. Hanel felt his blood cool. But Velis had spoken them aloud… to him. Not with plotting in his eyes, but with something pained, fiercely guarded. For someone.

Hanel swallowed and nodded slowly. He gave back the only trust he could. “I once saw a man released from an oath at his deathbed once… his magic was so weak that it couldn't keep hold of him.”

Velis’s face tightened, barely. Then he inclined his head. “Thank you.”

And with that, the moment was over. Hanel stood, notebook hidden swiftly in his coat. His mind reeled as he stepped back out into the tower’s shadowed hallways.

The Flame of Change. A magic a thousand years dead, reborn in Kade. A magic that could bind and uncover souls. And Velis, the unyielding Toliar, searching for a way to break an Oath for reasons he dared not speak.

Hanel walked faster. There was no rest waiting for him. There was something more important than rest: the notes pressed safe against his heart, and the boy who needed him more than ever.