"Mother, may I ask you something?" Rogg's voice wavered slightly as he spoke.He glanced at his mother—Lady Brigita—who was happily playing with her toddler grandson, Rex Arryan. Her face glowed with warmth, and Rex's innocent giggles filled the cozy room.
"What is it, my son? What would you like to ask?" Lady Brigita replied, gently cradling Rex in her arms as the boy held on to a small wooden toy.
Rogg hesitated. His mind was tangled with questions—how had his mother survived all the great upheavals of the past? How did she end up in Whiteheaven? According to the elders, she had once been a prominent figure among the revered clan orders in Smokeland. Yet, for some reason, the words felt heavy on his tongue. Instead, he diverted with a different question.
"Mother… who is the Little Falcon?" he asked, his tone calm, yet filled with curiosity.
The question instantly caught the attention of everyone in the room. Robb, who sat not far from Rogg, turned his head with interest. Yara, her long reddish hair cascading gracefully, paused from inspecting a set of garments Brisena had given her—a topic they had been discussing moments ago, laughing over clothes Brisena had never worn. Now, she too leaned in to listen.
"That's right, Mother. Who is the Little Falcon?" Brisena added as she stepped closer."The day I told you that Rogg was searching for the Little Falcon, you didn't seem surprised at all. In fact, it felt like you already knew a great deal about the name."
Lady Brigita smiled faintly, as if a distant memory had stirred within her. She stroked Rex's head—who had gone still in her arms, as though he too were listening—and softly said,"The Little Falcon… was your uncle. Emperor Brovon."
Silence fell over the room. All eyes turned to Lady Brigita, waiting for more.
"Emperor Brovon?" Rogg repeated, his voice touched with disbelief.
"Yes," Lady Brigita nodded, her smile lingering."Your uncle, your father, and I… we used to play together in the palace gardens of Whiteheaven. The three of us were inseparable. As children, we gave each other little nicknames. Your uncle Brovon came up with his own—'The Little Falcon.' He said that one day, when he was grown, he would soar like a falcon to the peak of Mount Lakhsa and meditate there."
Brisena let out a light laugh. "So that's the story behind the nickname? That's adorable."
Lady Brigita's smile widened. "Yes, it began as a small secret among the three of us. But Brovon, ever proud, eventually announced it to the imperial court. He insisted everyone call him the Little Falcon. He wanted the world to know he had a dream worth chasing."
"Were you close to Uncle Brovon and Father?" Robb asked, now visibly drawn into the story.
"We were like shadows to each other," Lady Brigita replied with a gentle nod."We were raised under the guidance of Master Zen, the elder of the Doliex tribe. From an early age, we were trained to become strong, wise leaders. Being born into the lineage of emperors and prime ministers came with great expectations. But unlike most, our grandfather—the Emperor and the Prime Minister—gave us the freedom to choose our own paths."
She paused, her eyes drifting to the window as though looking back in time.
"As the eldest, Brovon chose his path early. He longed for a life of solitude. Even in his teenage years, he dreamed of climbing Mount Lakhsa and living there in seclusion. And now… he's lived that dream, staying there for the last fifteen years.As for me, I always yearned to see the world beyond the palace walls. I grew tired of the barriers that confined my view. So when the Emperor and the Prime Minister decided to sail across the seas in search of Lovarian steel seeds and Neverus dragons, I snuck along with your father—hiding inside a water barrel if I had to."
"And Father?" Rogg asked, intrigued.
"Your father didn't want to go at first. He preferred the simple life, among common folk. But that day, I persuaded him. I needed a companion for the great adventure. In the end, we both joined the expedition to find the Lovarian steel seed."She turned her gaze to her children, eyes glowing with tenderness. "The rest… you've heard from the elders."
The room remained quiet, each listener absorbing the revelation.Lady Brigita's tale brought the past alive, reshaping how they saw their mother—not just as a parent, but as a woman with a remarkable journey behind her.
"So… the Little Eagle is Emperor Brovon?" Brisena asked in disbelief. Her eyes locked on her mother's, trying to process the truth that had just been revealed.Mother Brigita nodded slowly. "Yes, Brisena. That nickname belonged to your uncle—Emperor Brovon. He is the Little Eagle you've all heard of in the stories."
Brisena took a deep breath, then lowered her gaze for a moment. "All this time… I thought he was my father," she whispered, barely audible. Then, raising her head, she tried to smile. "Turns out, my real father is his younger brother, Brovos. I… I feel fortunate. When Brother Rogg forced me to pay respects at Father's grave and avenge him, I was able to fulfill my duty—even if I only realized the truth later."
Yara, standing beside Brisena, gently placed a hand on her shoulder, offering silent comfort. "Yes, Brisena," she said softly. "We've all paid proper respect to your father. It was the right thing to do."
Mother Brigita smiled warmly, though her eyes shimmered with sorrow. "I'm grateful you honored my husband's grave," she said, a tear rolling down her cheek.Then she continued, her voice tender. "Even though I wasn't surprised when you mentioned the name 'Little Eagle,' Brisena, there was one thing that truly caught me off guard," she said, turning to Rogg. "I never imagined that the one searching for that title would be my own children. The world is vast, full of mystery—and yet all of you have found your way back here. You, Brisena, brought your brother Rogg, your younger brother Robb, my beautiful daughter-in-law Yara, and my precious little grandson, Rex. Now, you are all my greatest treasure."
Rogg, who had been quietly listening, finally worked up the courage to ask, "Mother… is Uncle Brovon still alive?"
Mother Brigita fell silent, her gaze distant, as though searching through the years for the answer. "Your uncle… may still be alive," she said cautiously. "He and your father were men of incredible strength and resolve. They never gave in to despair. I believe, if fate hasn't yet claimed him, then yes—Brovon still walks this world."
"But… he chose to live in seclusion, didn't he? How could we possibly find him?" Brisena asked.
"Solitude was his destiny," Mother Brigita replied with conviction. "From a young age, he chose that path—long before all of this began. Just as your father chose to dedicate his life to defending the oppressed."
Robb, unable to hold back his sorrow, murmured, "But, Mother… Father is dead."
"I know, my child," she answered gently, her eyes full of love as they met his. "That's exactly what I mean. Your uncle may still be alive, but we can no longer hope for him to return to our lives. He made his choice long ago. In his heart, his life no longer belongs to us. He has passed this world on to you—his children, and the generations to come."
Rogg fell silent, pondering his mother's words. A fresh wave of loss swept over him, but alongside it came a new weight—the burden of responsibility passed down to them. Brisena, Yara, and Robb also stood still, each lost in thought, realizing that their journey was far from over. It was now their turn to carry on the legacy of their family.
"What should we do, Mother?" Brisena asked at last, her voice firm with determination.
Mother Brigita smiled—softly this time, yet full of hope. "Live your destiny, my children. You are the heirs of our bloodline, and you are the new light in this world of shadows."