Chapter 185: Future Of House Arvand
Lorraine’s voice rang out, steady and unwavering, each word slicing through the damp silence of the dungeon. Hadrian regarded her with the detached condescension of a teacher correcting a misguided pupil.
"You’re hypocritical if you say you wouldn’t do the same, if someone’s presence threatened the empire you’ve built beneath the city," he said, his tone laced with cold certainty. "House Arvand is bigger than one woman and her cursed daughter."
Lorraine scoffed, the sound bitter, dismissive. "You were wrong about me in the past, and you’re wrong about me now," she said, her voice thick with disdain. "Nothing... and I mean nothing. There is nothing I wouldn’t lose for my husband."
She spread her hands, sweeping them outward, her gaze encompassing the ancient stone walls, the flickering torchlight casting elongated shadows. "This empire..." she continued, her voice low and deliberate, "it is dust compared to those who are loyal to me."
Her words held neither arrogance nor bravado, but a stark declaration of purpose.
Would she kill to protect this empire? Yes. Those who were disloyal to her, traitors who would hurt her beloved people, deserved no mercy.
But would she deliberately let someone die just to preserve it? Never. Her empire was built on strategy, not cruelty. Her people were her foundation, and she had elaborate plans to protect it without losing valuable life. Her father, who treated human life as carelessly as dust, would never grasp such conviction.
"I’ll tell you something, Hadrian," Lorraine said, and as if summoned by her words, a gust of wind burst through the cold, stone chamber. The torches sputtered, their flames wavering like frightened spirits, struggling against the air’s sudden surge. Her heavy velvet cloak billowed dramatically, as though alive.
Leroy stepped forward instinctively, expecting some unnatural illumination, some ethereal glow to emanate from her. But there was none.
He watched her, his eyes steady, attuned to every subtle shift. Her composure remained perfect, resolute. Her hand extended toward Hadrian, and the heavy velvet cloak and sleeve danced in the wind that seemed confined only to her, as though the air itself obeyed her will and surrounded her as an invisible wall.
Her hair swirled, unbound, responding to a force no one else perceived. And then her words flowed... powerfully and undeniably clear. Not the pompous and extravagant high-veyrani of the ancients that rolled in her tongue before, but the measured, raw high-veyrani spoken by few who understood the true weight of the language.
"I shall break the chains that bind the eagle’s flight,
No longer caged in shadows, nor gripped by might.
House Arvand will rise, free from courtly schemes,
Its wings shall span the world, borne on righteous dreams.
The abominations of old, the bloodlust and the shame,
Shall be washed away by one’s blood, and erased from name.
By Oracle’s blood that flows in me,
We shall bless the world, and set it free."
Leroy placed a gentle hand on her back, ready to support her, but there was no faltering. She held herself with the certainty of someone invoking destiny itself.
Lorraine’s gaze remained cold, unwavering, as Hadrian raged behind them.
He knew, instinctively, these were not merely her words, not Lorraine’s thoughts or ambitions. This was the voice of prophecy incarnate. Her words, the ancient decrees of the true Divina, spoken by her own lips, resonating with something far older, far deeper than mere mortal will.
Leroy understood now. Her vision was not of personal conquest, but of fate unfolding. The future of House Arvand seemed blessed, not because of power or strategy, but because of the blood of the Oracle’s house flowing through her and through her brother. The sins of their ancestors, it seemed, were fated to be repaid by Hadrian himself.
But Hadrian heard only a curse. "You’re saying House Arvand will no longer be the wings behind the Lion?" His voice cracked, trembling with fury and desperation. "That’s blasphemy! Our ancestors demand punishment for your insolence. How dare you throw away the birthright of the Arvand family? You have no right to take it away from my son! No matter how powerful you think you are, it is a grave sin to bring down your father’s legacy!"
Lorraine watched him impassively. How convenient that in that moment, she was suddenly the embodiment of an Arvand. This man...her father, still refused to acknowledge the murder of her mother. Still never apologized for his cruelty. He denied responsibility for his sins, preferring to cling to the decaying pride of a name.
If his only love was for the shadow power of House Arvand, then it deserved to rot in irrelevance.
Her heart, however, held a secret. Her mother had a son. Her brother. He would not be denied his birthright. But he would walk a new path. A path that did not entangle itself in the poisonous schemes of the old guard. From now on, House Arvand would no longer be the shadows behind the Lion’s throne. It was free to soar higher.
"Shall we?" Lorraine asked softly, turning to Leroy. She had no intention of arguing, of explaining herself to Hadrian. His time had come. It was the end of his Chapter.
"You really are a curse!" Hadrian screamed, his voice filled with loathing. "You truly are the dark witch who will ruin Vaeloria! I should have trusted her more. I should have killed you when you were small!"
But Lorraine paid him no mind. This was not the first time her father had called her vile things. Nor would it be the last. She accepted his hatred and his spite as the natural reflection of his character: selfish, blind, and vile to the very end.
Only Leroy could not bear it. He saw the way his wife’s hands clenched and trembled for a flicker of a moment. Her father’s venom wounded deeper than he could know.
And if Leroy remained silent now, he would betray her. His silence had hurt her in the past. He wouldn’t let it hurt more now.
"My wife is not a curse," Leroy said, his voice strong, unwavering, full of conviction. "She is someone who builds. Someone who loves. Someone whose heart and mind hold a beauty and strength you, Hadrian, will never comprehend."
Lorraine stood still and looked at her husband. His words that were beautiful felt like a balm to her soul. Were those beautiful words really his, spoken by the man who had always seemed stoic and distant?
Her heart swelled in joy, an unfamiliar but welcome warmth.
"This bastard!" Hadrian spat, his body slumping forward, bowing as he coughed violently. He was dying, aware of every agonizing second. And in that knowledge, he had no intention of leaving quietly.
"If you think you could rule with this bastard... You’re the stupidest person on earth," Hadrian sneered, bitterness and weakness entwined in every syllable.
Lorraine sighed softly, her voice calm, resolute. "Whatever my future is, you won’t be there to watch."
Leroy reached for her hand, his grip firm and tender.
Together, they stepped forward, walking out of the dungeon, leaving behind a man whose legacy would crumble into nothing but dust.