The Knight estate was never quiet. It was controlled. Still. As if silence itself bowed to the house and not the other way around. But tonight, Devin heard the silence breathing.
He was summoned.
Not requested. Not invited. Summoned.
The message had come through Russell's mouth, as always. Hallen Knight did not speak directly unless he deemed it necessary. And tonight, it seemed, he did.
Devin's boots echoed down the long marble corridor. Candles flickered in iron sconces along the walls, casting elongated shadows that made the hallway feel narrower than it was. He reached the heavy oak door of the solar room—a room that, ironically, saw no sunlight.
He paused.
Then opened it.
The room was large and high-ceilinged, lined with dark velvet drapes that swallowed light. An ancient hearth burned at the far end, and in the deepest corner, far from the fire, sat Hallen Knight.
A silhouette.
A man carved from absence.
Devin had never seen his father in daylight. Not fully. The estate's light never touched him. It was a tradition, Russell said. A reflection of the family's guardianship over shadows.
Devin didn't believe in poetic reasons.
He believed in secrets.
"You asked for me," Devin said, stepping inside.
A pause.
Then the voice came—low, dry, and controlled. Measured.
"Come closer."
Devin obeyed, stopping halfway between the doorway and the shadows.
"There's talk," Hallen said, "of unrest in the southern quarter. The barrier frayed again last week."
"I know," Devin answered. "I checked the perimeter myself."
"Then you know what's brewing. The old families stir. And the root's pulse is no longer stable."
Devin said nothing.
"We need anchors," Hallen continued. "The Clove line is gone. The Winters are fractured. The Barnes are still loyal."
That word—loyal—hung heavy in the air.
"Silva Barnes is ready to make a formal alignment. Through you."
There it was.
Not a request.
A command wrapped in custom.
Devin swallowed the instinct to speak. To object. To rage.
Instead, he said, "Understood."
He heard the shift of fabric. The quiet satisfaction.
"I expected no less."
A longer silence passed.
"Your brother stands at the edge of fire," Hallen said. "You stand at the edge of frost. Hold your line. Don't melt."
Devin clenched his fists behind his back. "Yes, Father."
Hallen said nothing more.
Devin turned and walked out, his footsteps as sharp as his spine.
The hallway seemed colder on the way out. As if Hallen's words followed him like smoke.
The Knight family had a legacy of alliances—sealed with blood, oath, or marriage. It was expected. Calculated. Sacrificial.
But that didn't make it right.
Devin's mother had once told him, in a rare soft moment, "You are more than your crest."
He wanted to believe her.
But Hallen had built walls with their name.
And inside those walls, feelings had no place.
Devin slowed his steps.
Because the air changed.
A whisper under his skin. That familiar pull again. The same one from the school hallway. From the woods. From the dream.
He stopped beside the stained-glass window depicting the Knight family's first sigil—a burning sword bound in vines.
The air felt warmer there. Realer.
She's here, he thought. Not in the estate. But nearby. In Hawthorne. Breathing his same air.
He didn't know her name.
What exactly was she?
But whatever power had slipped through the cracks of the old order—she was at the center of it.
And he couldn't ignore it much longer.
------------------------
The next day, Devin's thoughts refused to stay tethered.
In class, he heard none of the lecture.
In training, he moved through sword forms like a ghost with muscle memory.
His mind wasn't on the syllabus or the blade. It was on her.
The presence he'd been feeling was stronger now. Closer. It moved through the school like wind through trees—subtle, but unmistakable. And Devin, despite himself, had started watching for it.
And then—he saw her.
Just past the library hall, near the old corkboard pinned with outdated announcements and club flyers. She stood alone, flipping through a notebook, black hair falling across her shoulder like ink poured in moonlight.
He couldn't see her face since her hair fell like a curtain covering her.
But he didn't need to.
His chest pulled toward her, like something buried in his blood had reached out and recognized something in hers.
He took a step forward.
Then another.
Then—someone slapped a hand on his shoulder.
"Dev!"
He flinched slightly as Elias Grey, a fellow Knight from an old branch line, slung an arm around his neck and spun him around with obnoxious ease.
"We're late for the quarterly council prep," Elias said, dragging him down the hall. "And if Russell finds out you skipped again, I swear to every founding family I will not cover for you this time."
"I'm—" Devin tried to look back, but Elias blocked his view, laughing.
"Oh no, none of that brooding edge-of-a-mystery look today, Romeo. Come on. Duty first."
Devin gave one last glance over his shoulder as they turned the corner, but she was gone.
And the hall felt emptier for it.
----------------------
That night, the wind howled through the estate windows.
Devin lay awake in his room, the cold air biting his skin. The fire in the hearth burned low, the embers whispering secrets only the roots would understand.
He closed his eyes.
And dreamed.
In the dream, he stood in a forest. Not just any forest—the forest behind the school. But it was changed. Older. Hungrier. Its trees taller, their trunks pulsing faintly with green light.
He walked between them, barefoot, the earth warm beneath his soles.
Then—he stopped.
In the dark ahead, a pair of emerald eyes opened.
They glowed like living flame.
Beautiful. Terrifying.
Ancient.
And though they said nothing, they looked directly at him—as if they had been waiting.
The rest of the figure remained hidden in shadow.
He stepped closer.
But the forest pulled him back.
The eyes remained.
Unblinking.
He woke with a gasp, heart hammering.
The room was still dark. The fire burned low.
He sat up, pressing a hand to his chest.
He didn't know who she was.
He hadn't seen the face.
But those eyes—
He would never forget those eyes.