Chapter Five: The Richest Man
936 Words
The city of Aurelia never truly slept.
Even after midnight, lanterns illuminated the cobbled streets as merchants negotiated late into the night, musicians played in lively taverns, and noble carriages rolled through the avenues.
Above it all stood Draven Hall.
Unlike the lavish estates of the city’s aristocrats, Draven Hall was elegant in its simplicity. Built from dark stone with soaring glass windows, it overlooked the entire capital from a hill opposite the Heartspire. It wasn’t decorated to impress—it radiated quiet authority.
Inside, Kael Draven stood alone in his study.
He gazed out at the glowing crystal tower in the distance.
His reflection stared back at him from the window—a tall man with dark hair touched by silver at the temples, piercing gray eyes, and a face that rarely betrayed emotion. At twenty-nine, he had become the wealthiest man in Elyndor, yet he wore his success with little pride.
A knock interrupted his thoughts.
“Come in.”
The heavy doors opened, and Cassian Thorn, captain of his personal guard, stepped inside.
“You asked for the latest reports, my lord.”
Kael nodded.
Cassian placed several scrolls on the desk.
“Trade from the eastern ports has increased. The mines in Ravenshollow exceeded expectations. House Valmont has sent another invitation to dinner.”
Kael barely glanced at the scrolls.
“And?”
Cassian sighed.
“They’re asking you to finalize the wedding date.”
Silence filled the room.
Kael finally turned away from the window.
“I’ve delayed it long enough.”
“You never wanted this engagement.”
“No.”
“Then why agree to it?”
Kael walked to an old bookshelf tucked into the corner of the study. From a hidden compartment, he removed a worn leather journal.
Inside was a faded sketch.
It showed a young woman standing beneath the Heartspire. Her long hair flowed in the wind, though the artist had never drawn her face clearly.
Cassian had seen the sketch before.
“You still dream about her?”
Kael closed the journal gently.
“Every year.”
“For how long?”
“Twelve years.”
Cassian shook his head in disbelief.
“You’ve never met her.”
“I know.”
“And yet you’ve refused every woman in the kingdom because of a dream.”
“It wasn’t only a dream.”
Kael’s voice was unusually quiet.
“When I was seventeen, I became gravely ill. The physicians believed I would die. That night, I saw the Heartspire… and a young woman standing before it. She reached for me, and I heard a voice say, ‘When the Heartbearer arrives, your fate will begin.’”
Cassian folded his arms.
“You’ve searched for her ever since.”
“Yes.”
“And if she doesn’t exist?”
Kael looked toward the tower once more.
“She does.”
The next afternoon, Seraphine arrived at Draven Hall in a luxurious carriage trimmed with gold.
Lyra sat opposite her, dressed in a simple gray servant’s uniform.
“You will speak only if instructed,” Seraphine said without looking up from the book in her hands.
“Yes, my lady.”
“And remember your place.”
The carriage rolled through towering iron gates and stopped before the grand entrance.
Lyra’s breath caught.
Draven Hall was unlike any building she had ever seen. It was imposing without being extravagant, its beauty lying in its craftsmanship rather than displays of wealth.
Servants greeted Seraphine with practiced bows.
“Lady Valmont.”
She smiled gracefully.
“Take me to Lord Draven.”
Lyra followed a few paces behind, carrying a polished wooden chest filled with gifts.
As they entered the main hall, she noticed something strange.
The warmth she’d felt near the Heartspire returned.
Stronger this time.
It pulsed beneath her skin.
She steadied herself against a pillar.
Not now…
At the far end of the hall, footsteps echoed.
Kael Draven descended the sweeping staircase.
He wore a tailored black coat embroidered with silver thread. There were no jewels or elaborate decorations—only quiet refinement. His calm expression gave away nothing, but his presence alone commanded attention.
Seraphine’s face brightened.
“Kael.”
He inclined his head politely.
“Lady Seraphine.”
His eyes moved past her.
Then they found Lyra.
Time seemed to stop.
The wooden chest slipped from Lyra’s hands and struck the marble floor with a loud c***k. Its contents scattered across the room.
Embarrassed, she immediately knelt to gather them.
“I’m so sorry—”
Before she could finish, Kael spoke.
“Leave them.”
His voice was calm but unmistakably firm.
Lyra looked up.
For the first time, their eyes met.
A strange current passed between them.
Kael stared, unable to look away.
Her silver-black hair.
Her violet eyes.
The quiet strength in her expression.
She was older now than the girl from his dreams—but there was no mistaking her.
It’s her.
Lyra felt that same warmth rise within her, stronger than ever before. Somewhere deep inside, where only silence had existed since she lost her powers, she sensed the faintest spark.
A single thread of golden Aether flickered… then vanished.
Neither of them spoke.
Neither understood why this moment felt so significant.
Only one person noticed the way Kael’s gaze lingered.
Seraphine.
Her smile froze for the briefest moment.
Then, just as quickly, it returned.
But behind her graceful composure, something cold awakened.
Jealousy.
And for the first time in her life, Seraphine feared she might lose the one thing she had always believed was already hers.
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