I awoke expecting an ordinary day—the kind of day where nothing strange happens, and everything falls neatly into place. But I never imagined I'd end it speaking to a skeletal wolf with a dream glowing in its skull.
Still half-dressed, I stared at the letter resting on my desk. I had nearly forgotten about it.
A formal request to purchase Briswen Hollow… from Theron Valemont D'Arcane.
Even the name felt like a disturbance in the air. A commanding knight, brother to the late queen, heir to a reputation shrouded in ambition. But why Briswen Hollow? A stretch of land that had belonged to my family for generations—wild, magical, and long avoided for its cursed reputation. They said monsters roamed there. Immortal ones, preserved by forbidden enchantments. Maybe the legends exaggerated—but even then, something about that place was undeniably off.
I needed answers.
But first, I needed something else. Something more personal.
Something about Lily.
Who was she, truly, before she became my sister?
I crossed the room and rang the bell.
Moments later, a knock.
"Come in," I called.
The door creaked open to reveal Eleanor, our head maid. Stoic, loyal, and ever-watchful. She had served the Hartwells long before I was born. My mother once called her a friend in all but title. Eleanor had once told me that my mother had saved her—healed something broken inside her.
"Eleanor," I began gently, "do you know what Lily is doing today?"
She bowed her head. "Lady Lily woke late, as she often does. Her maid mentioned she's reading in the library, as usual."
Why does she always wake so late? That's not like her...
"Is that all, young Duke?" she asked, sensing my hesitation.
I opened my mouth, then closed it. "Yes-no-no-no-no—. Actually, yes. That's all."
But my thoughts drifted back to the letter. To Briswen Hollow.
My father once called it Hartwell's lucky charm. I never believed in charms. That land was filled with dangerous creatures, thick with old magic. If it were merely cursed wilderness, why did both the D'Arcane and Duskvale families want it?
Especially the Duskvales. Their ties to the Empress made them… dangerous.
There was something there. Something more valuable than gold.
Another knock snapped me out of my thoughts.
Eleanor again.
"Young Duke, a guest awaits. He says it concerns the land."
"Who?"
"Lord Duskvale."
So they were already circling.
I had to see the land myself before I could trust any decision.
"Tell him to wait," I said, walking to the chest near my desk.
I flipped open the lid and drew the sword inside. As my fingers closed around the hilt, light burst around me. Arcs of lightning circled beneath my feet, forming an ancient rune that seared itself into the floor.
And then—the world vanished.
When the light faded, I stood atop a lonely mountain in Briswen Hollow, beside a timeworn two-story house. Wind howled through the ancient trees below. This place felt untouched by time.
And then I saw it.
A skeletal wolf, cloaked in moonlight.
Its bones were blackened, charred as if kissed by fire. At the center of its skull glowed a violet crystal, swirling like a trapped dream.
It didn't attack.
It sat, watchful. Waiting.
Cautiously, I approached and knelt, placing a hand upon its skull.
And the memories came.
Flashes of laughter. Steel clashing in battle. A cradle. My father.
Then a voice echoed in my mind.
"Welcome back, young Duke of Hartwell. It's a pleasure to meet you."
I flinched, withdrawing my hand.
The wolf dipped its head respectfully.
"My name is Dartfell. Leader of the Skulldrith. We are guardians of this land."
"You… live here?" I asked.
"We always have. Long before your cities rose from stone and sand. Your ancestor lived among us. We raised him. Even when he left, we remembered. You Hartwells are family."
"So that's why you've never attacked. That's why the legends exist."
Dartfell's violet gem pulsed.
"We started the rumors. At your ancestor's request. It was the only way to keep us hidden. We wanted peace."
"That's… surprisingly kind of you."
"Do not mistake kindness for weakness. We protect what is ours."
"I understand," I said with a nervous laugh. "Duly noted."
"Would you like a tour?"
I nodded.
He led me through shadowed woods aglow with bioluminescent plants. Other Skulldrith wolves emerged—silent, reverent. None attacked. They bowed as I passed.
Eventually, we reached a crystalline cave.
Dartfell lay down, lowering his head.
"The crystals here," he said, "are valuable. If money is their goal, let them have these."
"You're offering them?"
"Only if you and Lady Lily are the ones to claim them. No one else."
I smiled. "Lily would love to see this place."
"Then it is decided."
When I touched his skull again, light engulfed me.
In the next breath, I stood once more in my study.
Briswen Hollow was no longer cursed.
It was alive—with memory, with history, with magic.
I turned to go tell Duskvale our decision, only for Eleanor to intercept me.
"Young Duke," she said carefully, "General D'Arcane has arrived."
Perfect timing.
I opened the door to the drawing room.
General D'Arcane and Lord Duskvale sat opposite each other, tense, posturing. A teenage girl and a young boy sat beside Lord Duskvale. The girl lingered near the piano, looking as if she might play.
I kept my expression neutral. "Good afternoon, General D'Arcane. Lord Duskvale. Eleanor informed me of your purpose. Shall we get straight to it?"
Lily sat on the edge of her seat, eyes nervous. She didn't know how to play the piano. I could see it in her fingers.
Lord Duskvale waved a hand dismissively. "Children, out. This is grown-up business."
He looked at me like I was still just a boy. Not worth listening to.
I swallowed my frustration. Let them underestimate me.
Lily passed me on her way out, casting a worried glance. I remembered her as a child, shattering that vase, and me taking the blame. She was only seven then. She had looked at me the same way.
I sat calmly and waited.
D'Arcane spoke first. "What are you doing here, General?"
Duskvale smiled without warmth. "I should ask the same. I came to buy Briswen Hollow."
"I offered first."
"Then why are you still here? Nervous, I'll outbid you, old man?"
D'Arcane scowled. "You've always hidden behind power."
"And you've always failed to take it."
They traded jabs like duelists—old wounds disguised as diplomacy.
"You were born lucky," D'Arcane muttered. "You didn't struggle for what you have."
"That's why I'm grateful," Duskvale replied coldly. "They died so I could live. So, when will you join them?"
D'Arcane's hand went to his sword.
I stood abruptly, placing my hand on the hilt of his blade before he could draw.
They both stared at me, as if remembering I existed.
I sat down again, voice quiet. "I'm afraid I can't choose between you yet. It's too soon. I'll need four days to decide."
Lord Duskvale gave a patronizing smile. "Of course. You're still a child."
I smiled back. "I'm glad you understand."
He stood. "I must be going."
"Strange," I said lightly. "Your estate is so far."
"We have nearby holdings," he said, already halfway out the door.
I turned to D'Arcane. "Will you be leaving too?"
"No," he said. "If you don't mind, I'll stay."
"Of course," I replied.
I turned to go, but he stopped me.
"Julian—wait. There's something you need to know."
I paused.
"It's about your parents."
My chest tightened. "What about them?"
D'Arcane looked at me, his expression darkening.
"Their deaths… were planned."