**Chapter 9: The Family Legacy**
The air crackled with the aftershocks of colliding powers, the Elysium Stone's glow flickering like a dying star in Marverick's grip. Cassandra hovered above the battlefield, her shadow-wreathed form warping the air like heat haze, her laughter a blade against their resolve. Ava's dagger trembled in her hand, not from fear, but from the raw dissonance humming through the Stone—a frequency that gnawed at the edges of reality itself.
Then the ground *shifted*.
A man materialized from the chaos as if stepping through a veil, his presence bending the light around him. Tall, broad-shouldered, with eyes like glacial ice and a jawline carved from marble, he radiated authority. The demons recoiled; even Cassandra's smirk faltered.
"**Enough**," the man intoned, his voice a seismic rumble that stilled the battlefield.
Cassandra's cobalt eyes narrowed. "Father," she hissed, the word dripping with venom.
*Father.* The revelation struck like a gut punch. Marverick's mind raced—this was **Malcolm Riggs**, patriarch of the ancient Riggs dynasty, a name whispered in the tome's darkest passages. A family of architects, their hands deep in the foundations of empires, their legacy written in blood and celestial pacts.
Malcolm's gaze swept over the carnage, lingering on the Stone. "You overreach, daughter," he said, calm as a surgeon assessing a wound. "The Stone is not yours to claim. It belongs to the bloodline it was forged to destroy."
Ava barked a laugh, bitter and sharp. "Let me guess—*your* bloodline?"
Malcolm's smile was a flicker of frost. "Ours is a custodial role. The Riggs have…*curated* the balance since the First Schism. Cassandra's theatrics are but a child's tantrum."
Cassandra snarled, tendrils of void lashing out, but Malcolm flicked a hand. The shadows *dissolved*, unraveling like yarn. "You forget who taught you to weave, girl."
Marverick stepped forward, wings flaring. "You're both scavengers. The Stone isn't a trophy."
Malcolm's gaze pinned him. "And you, *Daveson*, are a relic. Your family's 'noble' line was never meant to survive the Prophecy of Ash. A miscalculation we'll now correct."
Before Marverick could retort, the earth erupted. Riggs loyalists surged from hidden tunnels—soldiers clad in armor etched with sigils that drank the light, their weapons humming with stolen angelic tech. Ava cursed, yanking Marverick back as a energy blade seared the air where his throat had been.
"**Enough!**"
The new voice tore through the din, sharp as a scalpel. A figure emerged from the Riggs ranks—**Dave Riggs**, Malcolm's brother, his face a mirror of his sibling's but weathered by a different fire. He gripped a cane topped with a pulsating crimson gem, its light casting jagged shadows across his scarred face.
"Theatrics bore me, Malcolm," Dave drawled, stepping between the factions. "We're here for the Stone, not family therapy."
Cassandra spat at his feet. "Traitor."
Dave smirked. "Realist. You think Father wants the Stone to 'restore balance'? Please. He'll raze heaven and hell both to build his throne." He turned to Marverick, the gem in his cane flaring. "You've been fed lies, boy. The Davesons weren't chosen—they were *bred*. A contingency plan by the Riggs to harness the Stone…until your ancestors grew a conscience."
Ava's grip tightened on her dagger. "And you're the upgrade?"
"I'm the cleanup." Dave's cane struck the ground. A shockwave of crimson energy threw Marverick to his knees, the Stone slipping from his grasp. It skidded toward Malcolm, who reached for it with a gloved hand—
—only to freeze as Dave's blade pressed to his throat. "Ah-ah. New terms."
The battlefield held its breath. Marverick's mind reeled—*bred*. The word echoed, ugly and insistent. Ava's hand found his, their bond flaring in silent question.
Dave's gaze locked on Marverick. "Your family's 'legacy'? A fairy tale. The Riggs planted the prophecy, groomed your bloodline to channel the Stone's power. You're not a hero. You're a **vessel**."
The truth hit like a bullet. Marverick's wings dimmed, the Stone's glow guttering. Ava's voice cut through the static. "Don't you *dare* listen to him. You're more than their damn experiment!"
Malcolm chuckled, cold and smooth. "Sentimentality. How very…*human*. But the Stone responds to blood, not heart." He raised his hand, and the Stone levitated toward him—
—until Ava lunged, her dagger slicing through the spectral strings of his control. The Stone clattered to the ground, its light stuttering.
Chaos erupted. Riggs soldiers surged. Demons howled. Dave's cane flared, carving a path of carnage. Through the maelstrom, Marverick's eyes met Malcolm's.
"You want the Stone?" Marverick growled, seizing it. The power surged, wild and searing, but he clung to Ava's voice in his mind—*anchor, lifeline, truth*. "**Take it!**"
He hurled the Stone into the chasm Cassandra had torn open. The abyss roared, swallowing it whole.
Malcolm's composure shattered. "**Fool!** You've doomed us all!"
Dave laughed, raw and unhinged. "Or finally leveled the field."
The ground quaked, the chasm vomiting forth a howling gale. Marverick grabbed Ava, his wings straining against the pull. "Time to go!"
As they fled, Dave's voice chased them, a razor in the wind. "Run, little vessel! But know this—the Riggs aren't your only inheritors. The Stone *remembers*."
The clock tower chimed.
Somewhere in the void, the Elysium Stone pulsed—waiting.