Grim watched as Julius Luminaris walked away, the man's warning about staying away from his daughter still ringing in his ears. The ball continued around him, a swirl of colors and sounds that suddenly felt suffocating. He needed air.
As he made his way toward the edge of the ballroom, he caught sight of the elderly man again. Their eyes met briefly, and the man tilted his head slightly toward a side door before walking in that direction himself.
[He wants to talk to you,] the voice in Grim's head observed. [I think it's time you heard what he has to say.]
Curious despite his wariness, Grim followed. The door led to a small garden terrace, secluded from the main festivities. The elderly man stood with his back to the door, gazing up at the night sky. Stars glittered overhead, unobscured by clouds.
"Beautiful night," the man said without turning around. "It reminds me of another night, long ago, when I stood on a different terrace with your grandmother."
Grim stopped a few paces behind him. "You knew my grandmother?"
The elderly man turned, his lined face solemn in the moonlight. "I knew her better than anyone. She was my wife."
A moment of stunned silence hung between them.
"Your wife?" Grim finally managed. "Then you're—"
"Cassius Van Ambrose," the man confirmed with a slight nod. "Your grandfather."
Grim stared at him, searching for any family resemblance, any sign that this wasn't some elaborate trick. Cassius's eyes were the same pale blue as his own. The realization hit him with the force of a physical blow.
"Why are you here?" Grim asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why now?"
"Two reasons," Cassius said, walking closer. "First, to see you. I've been watching from a distance for some time, but I wanted to meet you properly." His expression softened slightly. "You remind me of your father when he was young."
[And your great-grandfather when he was even younger,] the voice in Grim's head added, though Grim ignored it.
"And the second reason?"
Cassius's face grew grave. "Something has come to the Empire. Something dark and dangerous. I felt it ten days ago
A surge of malevolent energy moving through the land. I tracked it here."
"What does that have to do with me?"
"Perhaps nothing. Perhaps everything." Cassius moved to a stone bench and sat down, gesturing for Grim to join him. After a moment's hesitation, Grim did.
"You showed impressive skill in the garden earlier," Cassius said. "The Sundering Slash is not an easy technique to master, especially for one so young."
"You recognized it," Grim noted, not entirely surprised.
"Of course. I knew its creator, after all."
"Tell me about our family," Grim said, suddenly hungry for knowledge that had been kept from him. "The real story, not the watered-down version my father gives."
Cassius smiled, a flash of approval in his eyes. "The Ambrose Clan has always been unique among the great families. For over fifty generations, we have wielded only Light Sword Daos. The Sunfire Sword Dao has been our legacy, passed down through the bloodline."
He paused, his gaze distant as if seeing into the past. "But it was your great-grandfather, Caius, who truly brought greatness to our name. He created multiple sword arts, each more powerful than the last. The Aurora Flash Sword Dao, The Silver Crescent Sword Dao and the Thunderclap Sword Dao."
Grim listened.
"Caius became the Clan leader at Sixteen," Cassius continued. "Under his guidance, the Ambrose name commanded respect throughout the Empire and beyond. He was undefeated in battle, unmatched in wisdom." A shadow crossed his face. "And then something changed."
"What happened?" Grim prompted when Cassius fell silent.
"When I was born, something was... different. Despite having seven children, none of Caius's offspring possessed a light affinity—not one. It was as if our family had been cursed."
"But you have light affinity," Grim pointed out. "That's how you recognized the Sundering Slash."
Cassius shook his head. "No, I don't. None of us did. It skipped an entire generation."
"Then how—"
"I learned to mimic the forms, to understand the principles. But I could never channel true light energy. Instead, I developed my own style." A hint of pride crept into his voice. "They called me the White Death, not because I wielded light, but because I moved like a ghost. One moment there, the next gone. Death from nowhere."
[He was feared across the continent,] the voice commented. [Even without light affinity, he became one of the greatest swordsmen of his age.]
"Why haven't I heard of you?" Grim asked bluntly.
A humorless smile touched Cassius's lips. "Because thirty years ago, I disappeared. Officially, I'm dead."
"Why?"
"That's a longer story than we have time for tonight." Cassius glanced toward the ballroom. "But it brings us back to why I'm here. The darkness I sensed—I believe it's connected to our family's past. To what happened to Caius."
"What did happen to him?" Grim asked, genuinely curious. The voice in his head had never explained its own history.
Cassius's expression darkened. "Caius fought an entity known as Malaxis. Not once, but six times throughout his life. The first battle was when he was just sixteen."
"Malaxis?" The name felt strange on Grim's tongue.
"A being of pure darkness," Cassius said quietly. "Each time Caius faced him, he drove Malaxis back, but could never destroy him completely. The final battle came when Caius was old and withered. He finally defeated Malaxis, but..." Cassius shook his head, pain evident in his eyes. "The fight took too much out of him. He never recovered."
[An incomplete telling of events,] the voice commented dryly, [but close enough.]
"I'm sure your father told you about our downfall," Cassius continued. "But I made sure my son survived. And that you never had to worry about money."
"So using the Aurora Flash Sword Dao in the garden..." Grim began, understanding dawning on him.
"It likely drew the darkness here," Cassius confirmed grimly. "Those techniques have a signature that's unmistakable. I will watch over you for now, but you need to refrain from using those techniques unless it's truly life or death."
Grim absorbed this information, his mind racing. Then a thought occurred to him. "Why hasn't my father recognized you? If you're his father—"
Cassius chuckled, though the sound held little humor. "I don't look how I used to. Thirty years changes a man, especially one who's been living in the shadows. Not many people can recognize me without my robes. The white ceremonial garments that earned me my name."
"The White Death," Grim murmured.
"A title I neither sought nor rejected," Cassius said with a shrug. "It served its purpose."
Grim fell silent, trying to process everything he'd learned. The Ambrose legacy was far more complex—and dangerous—than he'd ever imagined.
"What do you want from me?" he asked finally.
"For now? Caution." Cassius rose to his feet. "Keep your sword close. Trust your instincts. And if anything unusual happens, call me immediately."
"Just call for you?"
"Yes, you call, and I will be there. There's much more I need to tell you," Cassius said. "About our family, about your abilities. But not here, not now." He looked toward the ballroom again. "We should return separately. Your absence will be noted soon."
"One more question. The Luminaris girl—Mira. She has light affinity, and she knew about our family's techniques. Is that a coincidence?"
A strange expression crossed Cassius's face. "There are few true coincidences in this world, Grim. Remember that."
With those cryptic words, Cassius turned and walked back toward the ball, when Grim looked away for a second and looked back, Cassius wasn't there. Just a cloud of mist vanishing.