(Garen's Point of View)
The return to Serena Village was tense. The revelations about that submerged structure, the six-armed beings, and the manipulation by the Children of Twilight weighed on us like lead. As soon as we arrived, I had a complicated conversation with the mayor, giving him just enough information to justify increased vigilance without causing panic. Then came the talk with Valerius. I laid out our findings, the connection to the "Legacy," and the potential threat to Lexo. He listened with his usual impassivity, but I detected a new, calculating gleam in his eyes. He nodded, said he'd inform the King and take "appropriate measures," and then, as quickly as he had arrived, he was gone—a blink, an almost imperceptible spatial distortion, and he vanished. Yet a part of me suspected that the General might still be watching from some hidden fold in space.
(Lexo's Point of View)
Just before leaving—and already clad in his gleaming golden armor—Uncle Valerius stopped in front of me, ignoring Mom's watchful gaze. He leaned down and whispered, "Wind the watch every night, nephew. It's important. If it stops for too long… it breaks." He briefly showed me the pocket watch he'd given me. "It's an oopart—a relic out of time. It passes from generation to generation in our family, waiting for the right bearer. A legacy for another legacy, you could say." He winked at me, a gesture loaded with meanings I was only beginning to grasp.
Then, with a charming smile that made the baker's daughter (a very pretty girl, truth be told—voluptuous, with rosy cheeks and blonde braids) sigh, Valerius bid farewell with an elegant gesture. The look he gave the girl didn't escape Borin, who growled so loudly it made the windows vibrate. Without thinking twice, he lobbed his hand axe. WHOOSH! Uncle Valerius wasn't even there; he dodged the axe with an almost insulting fluidity that left a bitter aftertaste in the air. The axe continued on its trajectory and crashed into the wall of our kitchen, embedding itself dangerously close to the pot where Mom was preparing dinner.
The ensuing silence was terrifying. The Great Mage (aka Mom) slowly turned around, a vein visibly throbbing at her temple. An almost imperceptible spatial distortion—a bitter, furious glow, celestial and crackling—emanated from her. Then, Thom, who had come to deliver a report to Dad and had witnessed the scene in horror, sent both the giant and the general flying out into the street as if they were feathers caught in a hurricane, leaving them in a dusty, groaning heap.
"The lack of control over primal emotions," Lyra commented with her timeless elven calm, as she used a controlled stream of water from her hands to douse the flames that were starting to set the food on fire from the commotion. "Leads to... messy results."
Amid the chaos, I saw Kael silently slip toward the pot, help himself to a generous ladleful of stew from seemingly nowhere, and vanish as stealthily as he had arrived. Or so he thought. Mom, without even turning around, extended a hand behind her. In a flash of distortion, the ladle-full of stew was back in her hand. A moment later, a muffled scream and the sound of another body colliding with the pile outside indicated that Kael had rejoined Borin and Valerius. When Mom gets angry, she's truly frightening.
"Lexo, help set the table, please," Mom said, her voice returning to normal, though with a slight edge. "It seems we're expecting guests."
I sighed. My family was a noisy, dangerous circus. I helped set the table—spreading the tablecloth, placing the wooden plates and cutlery—while the aroma of the now-safe stew began to fill the house.
Shortly after, Dad returned. He was accompanied by the mayor, his wife, and a radiant Lila, who ran to greet me. And trailing behind them was Pietro. He was dressed unusually formally—though still in his signature brown tones—with a small vest and a meticulously ironed shirt. Under his arm, he carried a tome so thick it looked like a medieval encyclopedia, almost too large for his slender build and four-foot frame (for a five-year-old, he was tall, but the book was enormous). I realized I'd never even asked him when his birthday was.
The evening was a whirlwind of activity: town stories, Lila's laughter, Pietro's analytical commentary on the stew's composition, Dad trying to keep the peace… And for a fleeting moment, everything felt normal. A brief, precious peace amidst the chaos that had come to define my life.
Then, just as Mom was serving dessert (apple pie, my favorite), a firm, authoritative knock echoed at the door. We all fell silent. Dad frowned and went to open it.
On the threshold stood a man I hadn't seen before. He was old, hunched, with shoulder-length white hair and a prominently aquiline nose dominating a face etched with wrinkles. Yet his dark, well-defined eyebrows framed surprisingly sharp, piercing gray eyes. He wore simple but well-made clothes and leaned slightly on a dark wooden cane.
The mayor nearly jumped out of his chair. "Grandmaster! What an unexpected visit! What brings you to Serena Village?"
Pietro, unable to hide his astonishment, dropped his book and adjusted his fogged glasses before giving me a small, nervous nod. What did this man mean by "Grandmaster?"
The old man smiled—a grim smile that never reached his piercing eyes. "Important matters, Mayor. Guild matters that require my personal attention." His gaze swept the room, pausing on each of us until it finally rested on me. "And of course," he added in a raspy, firm voice, "I wanted to meet my grandson."
GRANDSON?! He was Gustav! My father's father—the head of the Guild! The one Dad never liked to mention, even on good days. I wanted to ask him everything about his past, his secrets.
The atmosphere froze. Mom slowly rose, moving to stand beside me, while Dad stepped protectively between the old man and me.
Gustav ignored the tension and approached with slow, measured steps. He stopped in front of me and extended a wrinkled but strong hand. "Lexo, is it? I've heard many interesting things about you, boy."
His presence was overwhelming—a pressure far greater than that of Mom and Dad combined. This man was powerful. Dangerous. And not someone you'd want as an enemy. I mustered my most adorable smile, hoping it would work its charm.
While Dad and Mom engaged in a tense, hushed conversation with him, I tried to sense what I could. Something about his aura was strange—it wasn't like Mom's warm Light, nor Dad's controlled Fire, nor Kael's elusive Air or Borin's solid Earth. And it wasn't Uncle Valerius's bitter Space. It was... darkness. A deep, controlled, ancient darkness, like a starless night in the depths of a still ocean. Could it be the Darkness attribute? The exact opposite of Mom's power?
My instincts screamed danger. I had to get out of there, observe from a distance. I concentrated, trying to activate [Chronos] to slip away for just a moment...
Nothing.
The ability wouldn't respond. It was like trying to light a lamp without fuel. I could feel the power in my core, but the switch was off—locked.
I looked up, alarmed, and met the sharp gaze of my grandfather Gustav. A kind, almost paternal smile curved his lips.
"Don't go yet, dear grandson," he said softly, his voice resonating with a barely veiled power that sent a chill through me. "We have a lot to talk about." Then, turning to my parents in a commanding tone, he added, "Bring me a plate right now. I'm staying for dinner!"