[House Veyrath — Seyra’s Chamber — Continuation]
"I will chop them."
Azram Vaerun’s voice carried no warmth, and the moment those words left his mouth, the air inside the chamber changed.
The Veyra (air) surrounding him grew heavy, the curtains stopped moving, and the flames within the bronze lamps bent toward him as though the very air had become obedient to its master.
Every servant in the chamber went pale.
Then—
CLAP!
Everyone flinched. Seyra’s both hands pressed together, her violet eyes sparkling with excitement.
"WOW! That sounds fun! Then how about we chop them in different ways?"
. . .
. . .
The entire chamber went silent.
Kharzen stared at her. Mira’s lips parted. Renn looked toward the ceiling as though silently asking the Seven for patience. Vaerun, however, remained completely calm.
"Different methods?"
Seyra nodded enthusiastically.
"Yes!"
She raised one tiny finger. "First, we can hang them against a wall and use thorn whips."
Mira’s face lost what little color remained, and Seyra continued happily. "Every time they think it is finished, we start again, and when they beg for mercy..."
Her smile became wickedly innocent.
"...we can tell them we haven’t finished yet."
. . .
. . .
Silence.
Kharzen slowly turned toward Mira. "She’s truly four years old, isn’t she?"
Mira swallowed. "I am beginning to question everything I know."
Renn quietly nodded.
"So am I."
Meanwhile, Vaerun regarded her thoughtfully; for several heartbeats, he said nothing and then—
"A punishment without an end." His silver eyes narrowed slightly. "Interesting."
Kharzen’s expression became horrified. ’He is actually considering it.’
Seyra puffed out her chest proudly.
"I knew you would like it!"
Vaerun carried her toward the bed.
"But there is something I need to know first."
Seyra blinked as Vaerun lowered himself until they were at the same level; his expression remained calm...almost too calm.
"Those bruises upon your back. Who gave them to you?" The room became quiet as Vaerun’s voice lowered. "Was it the old beggar?"
Seyra immediately shook her head. "No...he was annoying...but he never hurt me."
Vaerun’s eyes sharpened.
"Then who did?"
Seyra remained silent for a moment, and then she answered quietly. "The orphanage, director."
Mira’s expression changed. Vaerun did not move. "What did the director do?"
Seyra’s little face twisted with disgust. "That Jerk...he wanted to sell me."
. . .
. . .
The chamber froze.
"...Sell you?"
Seyra nodded. "He wanted to put me in an auction."
GASP—
Mira covered her mouth. Renn’s face turned pale. Kharzen’s hand immediately tightened around the hilt of his sword. Even the maids who had served House Veyrath for years looked shaken.
A child, four years old, was almost sold at an auction.
For several heartbeats, Vaerun said nothing, then the air changed.
WHOOOOSH—
A violent gust erupted from him, the curtains flew upward, and the flames of the bronze lamps bent violently; the wooden furniture creaked beneath the pressure of his Veyra, and the air became so dense that breathing suddenly felt difficult.
Vaerun’s silver eyes had gone utterly cold and lethal. "Name of the orphanage. Give me its name."
Seyra thought for a moment. "The Home. That was what they called it. It was outside the Imperial City."
Silence.
Vaerun did not turn his head; the air around him was lethal and suffocating.
"Ravian."
Assistant Ravian immediately stepped forward and bowed. "Yes, Azram. I shall uncover everything."
Vaerun’s voice dropped to a whisper that somehow carried through the entire chamber. "And the children who were sold...bring me their names."
Ravian’s eyes sharpened.
"Understood."
Vaerun looked toward him. "Two days. I want the people responsible before me alive."
Ravian bowed.
"Yes, Azram."
He turned immediately and left the chamber, and silence returned. Vaerun looked down at Seyra, his expression softened by the smallest degree as she was staring at him quietly now, and then she asked,
"Are you angry?"
Vaerun’s fingers moved through one of Seyra’s unruly curls, gently brushing it away from her forehead, his silver eyes lowered to her.
"Am I?"
Seyra nodded as she looked past him, toward the shifting curtains. "Your air is angry."
Vaerun’s hand stilled. Seyra pointed behind him.
"And your spirit."
The chamber fell silent. The Veyra surrounding Vaerun had gathered into the shape of a great white leopard. It stood behind its master without touching the ground, its body formed entirely from pale currents of air. Its mane flowed like mist beneath a moonlit sky, while its enormous eyes burned with a cold, merciless light.
The spirit’s gaze remained fixed upon the chamber, upon Seyra. Seyra did not recoil; she merely stared, and then she looked back at Vaerun.
"The leopard is angry too."
Kharzen’s expression tightened, and everyone who had spent years within House Veyrath found herself holding her breath.
. . .
. . .
Vaerun’s gaze sharpened.
"You can see him?"
Seyra nodded.
"Of course."
A faint crease appeared between Vaerun’s brows.
Most mortals could not perceive a contracted spirit unless the spirit willingly revealed its form. Even those blessed with strong Aether required years of cultivation before they could see the higher spirits clearly.
Yet this child...she spoke of his Veyra as though it were an ordinary creature standing beside him. Seyra lifted her little hand and waved toward the great leopard.
The spirit lowered its massive head, and the air stirred softly against her fingers. Vaerun watched without speaking, then his gaze shifted toward the small wooden chest beside the bed.
He opened it.
Click.
Seyra looked toward him curiously as Vaerun reached inside. He withdrew something wrapped in dark leather, and then he placed it in her hands.
A dagger.
Silence descended upon the chamber. Every person present appeared to have the same thought.
’He could have given the child a sweet.’
Seyra looked down at the dagger, then she looked up at Vaerun; her expression was one of complete disbelief.
"...Why are you giving me a dagger?"
Vaerun answered without hesitation.
"It is useful."
Seyra stared at him.
"I do not know how to use it."
"I will teach you."
Her little face became solemn.
"That is not comforting."
For the briefest moment, something almost resembling amusement touched Vaerun’s eyes.
"It will be soon."
Seyra looked at the dagger again, then at him, and sighed with the resignation of someone who had already accepted that her new father was incapable of giving ordinary gifts.
"I suppose I should not expect ordinary things from you."
Vaerun merely reached down and rested his palm upon Seyra’s head. "You will learn."
Seyra glanced at the dagger.
"Can I have sweets after I learn?"
Vaerun paused.
"Yes."
Her eyes immediately brightened.
"Then I shall learn."
A quiet chuckle escaped Kharzen before he could stop it. Vaerun glanced toward him, the captain immediately straightened.
"I said nothing, Azram."
Vaerun ignored him. Instead, he lowered himself before Seyra, the terrifying lord of House Veyrath, feared across Eshkaran, and knelt before a four-year-old child as though nothing in the world mattered more at that moment.
He gently took her small hand, then he pressed his lips against the back of it.
Seyra blinked.
For once, she had no clever answer. Vaerun’s silver eyes remained upon her.
"You are my daughter. No crystal, tablet, priest, or god shall change that." Seyra’s fingers curled around his as Vaerun continued, "Whatever belongs to you shall be placed beneath your name. Whatever threatens you shall answer to mine."
The chamber became utterly still.
Even the Veyra leopard seemed to bow its head. Seyra stared at him for several heartbeats, then her cheeks turned pink.
"...Even sweets?"
A faint smile touched Vaerun’s lips.
"Especially sweets."
Seyra giggled; she turned toward the great white leopard and reached up, her little palm resting against its enormous muzzle.
The spirit did not retreat. Instead, the Veyra curled gently around her small body, warm and weightless, like a protective veil.
Vaerun’s eyes narrowed because the spirit of Veyra around Azram did not merely tolerate her touch. It had lowered itself before her, and in the ancient tongue of the elemental temples, there was only one meaning for such an act.
The ancient tablets called it Spirit Recognition.
Seyra did not notice; she simply hugged the spirit’s enormous head.
"You’re soft."
The leopard closed its eyes. Vaerun watched in silence, and the Silent Tempest wondered whether the crystal at the Temple of Seven had not failed to find Seyra’s Aether.
Perhaps...
there had never been an Aether Core for it to find.