The decision came in fragments, like the scorched shards still scattered across his desk. Days passed with little change, the runes refused to yield, the archivists circled their failures, and even Rafael had stopped pretending that new translations were progress.

Gabriel had resisted long enough. Every instinct told him that to involve Lucius was to invite the past back into a place where he had fought too hard to carve out the present. And yet… every time Rowena's small hand had curled around his finger, or Arik had asked another curious question about "the old emperors," the thought pressed harder.

'Maybe it was worth the risk of Lucius knowing that Arik was more than his grandchild.'

The wards stirred, low and steady, and before Gabriel could fully rise from his chair, the door eased open.

"Papa!"

Arik's voice rang first, bright and certain, his curls a little untamed, his golden eyes gleaming as though even the palace corridors bent toward his energy. He hurried inside, a tablet clutched under his arm, his steps light but confident.

Only then did Gabriel see who followed.

Lucius.

Not with the rigid stride of the von Jaunez patriarch he had once been, but with something looser, slower. His silver hair was tied back neatly, his jacket plain, his free hand resting gently on Arik's shoulder as if guiding rather than steering.

The boy clung to him without hesitation, half leaning against his side as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Gabriel's lips curved, sharp but wry. "And here I thought the wards were meant to keep out uninvited guests."

Arik grinned, clearly taking it as a triumph. "Grandfather isn't a guest."

Lucius's eyes met his son's, calm, unreadable, but not cold. "No," he said quietly, his voice carrying the faint weight of age rather than command. "I'm family."

For a moment, Gabriel only studied him, Rowena's warmth and Alexandra's words lingering like echoes. Then he leaned back in his chair, one hand resting absently on the swell of his stomach, his mouth curving with that razor-edged humor that had never dulled.

"Then tell me, Lucius," he drawled, his brown eyes sliding to the shards on the desk, "do you still remember what ghosts look like etched in crystal?"

Lucius's steps were measured as he crossed the study, his hand leaving Arik's shoulder only when he reached the desk. The lamplight caught in his hair and his gaze dropped to the fragments scattered like broken teeth across the surface. He didn't touch them. He only leaned slightly, eyes narrowing as if the burned grooves themselves whispered something he had once known.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low enough for Arik to not hear it.

"Did you remember Goliath?"

The question struck the air like a knife set neatly on the table.

Gabriel's smirk faded, changing into something colder. His hand stilled over his stomach, the child's steady weight beneath his palm grounding him even as his eyes lifted to meet his father's.

"You could say that I remember, but," the words were slow, his tone shifting to the cold one he used in council meetings. "Almost six years ago, I met him again. It's a state secret and will remain one; he told me that he will return."

His gaze drifted, inexorable, toward the low stool at his side where Arik perched, golden eyes bright, curls falling unruly across his brow as he fiddled with the edge of Gabriel's sleeve.

Lucius followed the glance, his own breath leaving him in a long, weighted sigh. For a moment, something unguarded flickered across his face, weariness, perhaps, or the sharp recognition of truths best left unspoken.

"Arik," Lucius said at last, his tone gentle but steady. "Go wait with Edward a few minutes."

The boy looked up, startled. "Why? I want to hear…"

"Because it's about the literature of the Agaron Empire through the first ages," Lucius said, knowing full well that the subject bored Arik beyond reason.

Arik's mouth opened, clearly ready to protest, but the mention of "literature" made his shoulders slump. His curls bounced as he wrinkled his nose. "That's boring."

"Exactly," Lucius said evenly, smoothing a hand over his grandson's shoulder before nudging him gently toward the door. "Edward will make sure you have something less dull."

Gabriel arched a brow, his smirk tugging back into place as he watched Arik shuffle reluctantly across the study. "You've learned the art of selective honesty. Late, but not useless."

Arik shot him a betrayed look over his shoulder, but one glance at Gabriel's expression told him there was no appeal to be made. With an exaggerated sigh, he slipped out, the wards humming shut behind him.

Silence pressed in.

Lucius remained standing at the desk, his gaze fixed on the charred runes as if he were still hearing an echo no one else could. When he finally looked up, his eyes found Gabriel's, sharp but absent of the old cruelty.

"Where do you want me to begin?" He asked, taking the chair in front of Gabriel's desk and elegantly shoving his unbuttoned blazer to be more comfortable. "Beginning of Goliath or how did he get to be reborn?"

"You knew." Gabriel said his eyes were getting colder than the winter air outside.

"I know a lot of things, but Goliath being reborn as Arik? That I didn't know."

Gabriel's fingers drummed once against the armrest of his chair, sharp and deliberate, before stilling. "But you suspected."

Lucius didn't flinch. He leaned back slightly, hands folded with that same care he'd once used to weigh contracts and ruin reputations. "I suspected many things. I've lived long enough to see men rise from nothing and fall into ash. But rebirth?" His eyes narrowed on the shards. "That was a story we told children. A warning wrapped in myth."

"Convenient," Gabriel said softly, his brown eyes narrowing. "To call it myth when it suits you and prophecy when it doesn't."

The corners of Lucius's mouth tugged into something wry, though the expression didn't reach his eyes. "You inherited your sharpness from me. Don't act so offended when it cuts."

Gabriel's smirk didn't shift, but his hand pressed firmer against the curve of his stomach, a silent reminder of the child stirring beneath. "Don't mistake sharpness for trust, Lucius. You sat at Goliath's council table; you saw him work the wards. And now these…" his hand flicked toward the blackened crystal shards, "...sit on my desk like a riddle no scholar can solve. Don't waste my time with evasions. What do you recognize?"

For a long moment, Lucius studied him, eyes unreadable. Then he reached forward, his fingers hovering just above one of the scorched runes without touching.

"This is just a ledger about his wars," he said quietly. "Dates, campaigns, the tally of victories dressed up in the language of wards. It won't give you the clarity you're searching for about Arik's soul. But I can tell you what you want."

Gabriel's brown eyes narrowed, his voice cutting through the stillness. "And what do you want in exchange?"