CHAPTER 163: TO THE CHAMBER!

The next day, their housemaid returned, bringing a sense of normal routine back into the household. Yet for Elysia, nothing felt normal.

Since her father’s return from the arena of the Council of Clans, she had barely looked at him.

Whenever he entered the room, she would simply lower her gaze, turn away, and focus on her sword. She had chosen silence over confrontation, keeping her distance as if a wall had risen between them.

To her father, she offered no words.

Instead, her conversations were reserved for her mother and the maid, and even then, they were fleeting—small exchanges about meals, clothes, and daily needs.

The truth of the Oathblade never passed her lips. It was her secret, her burden, and she bore it alone.

Lady Seraphine often watched her daughter with quiet worry.

She noticed the way Elysia’s hands sometimes trembled when she lifted her cup of tea, and how her eyes carried a dull heaviness after long hours of training.

But she chose not to speak of it, afraid that words might only add weight to her daughter’s already heavy heart.

And so, Elysia trained. Morning to night, she pushed herself to the brink.

The clang of her blade filled the house, over and over, until exhaustion forced her body to rest.

Only then would she stop, sweat dripping, chest heaving, eyes burning with determination.

For her, there was no rest.

The next morning.

Elysia was in the training again, her sword was swinging in steady arcs. She was so lost in her movements that she barely noticed the soft footsteps approaching.

It was their house maid.

"Lady Elysia," the woman said gently.

Her voice carried a careful tone, as if she had been instructed to tread delicately.

"Your father requests something."

Elysia froze mid-swing, her blade stopping a breath away from the wooden post she had been striking.

Slowly, she turned.

"I don’t wish to see him," she said coldly.

The maid hesitated, her hands clasped together nervously.

"My lady, he insisted. He asked that I personally escort you... to a room you have never entered before. He said it is important."

Elysia’s brows furrowed. (A room I had never entered?)

There weren’t many places in their home barred to her. Suspicion flickered across her face, but curiosity tugged at her heart despite her resistance.

The maid, seeing her hesitation, added softly, "It is inheritance. A gift, passed to you."

"Inheritance? Gift?"

Elysia tightened her grip on her sword.

The weight of the Oathblade pulsed in her memory, a reminder of the secret already chained to her soul.

(What more could there be?)

Still, she gave a stiff nod. "Very well. Lead the way."

The maid guided her through corridors Elysia rarely traversed, toward the inner quarters of the house where ancient tapestries and unlit lanterns lined the halls.

At the end of a long corridor stood a wooden door reinforced with bronze patterns—intricate carvings of serpents and blossoms winding together in harmony.

Elysia paused before it, realizing she had walked past this hallway countless times yet had never once stepped inside.

The maid bowed slightly.

"This is the chamber your father spoke of. He awaits you within."

Elysia braced herself, then pushed the door open.

The chamber beyond was dim, illuminated only by the flickering light of oil lamps.

The scent of aged parchment and incense filled the air. Ancient scrolls lined the shelves along the walls.

"Lady Elysia,".

Upon it rested a small chest, carved of dark wood, bound in silver clasps etched with runes.

Its surface glowed faintly, as if alive with a hidden pulse.

"What is this?" she asked.

"A seal. A gift from another clan—an ally, and a friend of your father."

Elysia’s brows are knitted. "A seal?"

Her maid stepped aside, gesturing toward the chest.

"It was entrusted to your father many years ago,".

"He was sworn to guard it, to keep it safe until the day it would rightfully belong to you. That day has come, Lady Elysia."

Elysia’s hands tightened at her sides. "I never asked for this."

"You did not," came the calm reply. "But it is yours, whether you wish it or not. This is no ordinary gift—it is a legacy. One bound not only to your bloodline, but to the faith of all who placed their trust in your family."

Elysia’s eyes burned, heavy with a storm of emotions, anger, fear, grief, confusion. She wanted to scream, to shout that she didn’t want this burden, and didn’t want his so-called inheritance.

She wanted her life to be her own, not dictated by old promises and forgotten wars.

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, until her maid stepped forward.

"My lady... this seal is not just power," she said quietly.

"It carries with it protection, wisdom, and the unyielding will of those who came before you. It was shaped by their sacrifices, their hope for the future. To reject it is to turn away from the strength that has always been meant to guard you."

Elysia swallowed hard.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

Her gaze locked onto the chest resting on the pedestal, its dark surface framed by glowing patterns that seemed to breathe with life.

Each step she took forward made the runes flare brighter.

When her fingers brushed the edge of the chest, a soft click echoed through the chamber.

The lid shifted on its own, as though it had been sealed for centuries only to open at her touch.

Inside, cradled in velvet lining, lay an orb unlike anything she had ever seen.

It was crystalline, perfectly smooth, yet within it swirled a faint light that moved like mist caught in endless motion.

Silver threads coiled around it, forming an intricate lattice that seemed both delicate and unbreakable.

Across the orb’s surface, ancient symbols shimmered—shifting and rearranging as though alive, never resting in one form.

Her maid spoke.

"The Seal of Veylan," she said. "This was bestowed upon your father long ago by Kaelen of the Veylan Clan—a man who once saved his life. Your father guarded it faithfully, for it was not meant for him. It was entrusted to your bloodline, to wait until one who carried both the strength and the spirit would awaken it. That one... is you."