The Broken Abyss

The return journey to the Raye estate was quiet. The carriage wheels rolled steadily over the cobbled roads, the only sound breaking the silence. Lord Varian sat across from Tanver, his piercing gaze fixed forward, unreadable as ever.

"You handled yourself well today," he finally said.

Tanver met his father's gaze, his expression calm. "I did what was necessary."

Varian studied him for a moment before offering a slow nod. It wasn't praise—just acknowledgment. But from a man like him, that was more than most would ever receive.

Tanver didn't need his father's approval. He had already proven himself where it mattered. Yet, deep down, he felt something stir—a quiet satisfaction, a sense of control over his fate.

As they arrived at the estate, Tanver stepped out of the carriage, his boots hitting the stone pavement with precision. The grand halls of his home stretched before him, bathed in the golden glow of the evening lanterns. Servants moved with silent efficiency, bowing as the master of the house returned.

Inside, Lady Seraphina awaited them, her expression as poised as ever. "I take it the matter has been settled?"

"It has," Varian confirmed.

She spared Tanver a brief glance, unreadable as always, before turning away. "Dinner will be served soon."

Tanver exhaled quietly and made his way to his quarters. He changed into a more relaxed attire—still elegant, still fitting of his status, but lighter than the formal wear he had endured all day. His mind drifted back to the meeting, to Victor Vernhardt's parting words.

"You play the game well, Tanver Raye."

"I don't play. I win."

A small smirk ghosted his lips. Vernhardt had underestimated him—many did. But that would be their mistake, not his.

---

The dining hall was warm, the soft glow of the chandeliers casting long shadows across the grand table. Tanver sat at his usual place, opposite his father and mother. The meal was laid out with perfection—roast meats, fine wine, delicacies prepared with meticulous care.

As always, the silence reigned between them.

Tanver sipped his drink, his thoughts elsewhere. He was beginning to understand the patterns of this house, the rigid expectations, the unspoken rules that dictated their lives. It was a game—one of control, of measured actions, of knowing when to speak and when to remain silent.

Tonight, however, the silence was broken.

A faint but distinct shift in the air. A presence.

And then—

The heavy doors of the dining hall swung open.

A figure stood in the entrance.

A boy.

He was young, no older than Tanver himself, but his presence was overwhelming. Handsome, powerful—there was an aura about him that demanded attention. The flickering candlelight barely touched his features, leaving much of him in shadow, yet his very stance exuded strength.

He did not speak.

He simply stood there, his gaze locked onto Tanver.

And in that moment