The van rolled through the Keep’s underground garage, tires humming against the concrete. The team sat in their usual places—Cora up front, Mason by the door, Sera and Derek in the back, Lucian in the middle—but something was different. The silence wasn’t tired anymore. It was alert. Aware.

Two weeks at the Springs had changed them.

Cora’s fingers rested on the hilt of her sword, not gripping, just touching. A habit she’d picked up from the monks. Keep your weapon close, but don’t let it keep you. Mason’s gauntlets no longer hummed with constant heat; they waited, patient, like coiled snakes. Sera’s phone was in her pocket, untouched for the entire drive. She didn’t need to scroll anymore. She just watched.

Derek’s ghosts hovered outside the van, flanking it like escorts. Dr. Blackwood sat in the seat beside him, solid enough to cast a faint shadow.

Lucian stared out the window, watching the garage lights pass.

Something was wrong.

He could feel it in the air—the same way he’d felt the Springs before they arrived. A tension. A weight. The Keep was too quiet.

The van stopped. The driver killed the engine.

Alistair was waiting for them on the platform, his arms crossed, his face unreadable. Behind him, hunters moved with purpose, faster than usual, their voices low.

Cora was the first out. "What happened?"

Alistair didn’t answer immediately. He looked at each of them, one by one, measuring.

"Get inside. Briefing in ten."

He turned and walked away.

---

The common room felt smaller than Lucian remembered.

The team gathered around the table, their gear stowed, their weapons close. Alistair stood at the head, a tablet in his hand, the screen glowing with reports.

"While you were gone, there were attacks. Four of them. Across the city, across the border territories." He swiped the screen. "Demon incursions. Small ones—probes, not invasions. But coordinated. Simultaneous."

Mason leaned forward. "Casualties?"

"Three Grey Hunters wounded. No deaths." Alistair’s jaw tightened. "Barely."

Sera’s hands were still. "Who’s behind it?"

"Valentine." Alistair set down the tablet. "His signature was on the wards they used to mask the incursions. He’s testing us. Looking for weak points."

Cora’s fingers tapped the table. "He’s been quiet for weeks. Now this."

"He’s been quiet because he’s been planning." Alistair’s voice was flat. "And while he’s been planning, other things have been moving."

He looked at Lucian.

"Your mother wants to see you. Tonight."

Lucian nodded. Said nothing.

"The rest of you, get some rest. Tomorrow, we start reinforcing the border outposts. The Council is mobilizing."

The team dispersed.

Derek lingered by the door. "Alistair?"

"Yes?"

"Voss. Is she still—"

"She escaped."

The room went cold.

"Three days ago. Someone broke her out of transport. We don’t know who. We don’t know how." Alistair’s hand tightened on the tablet. "The pendant is still missing. The investigation just got a lot harder."

Derek swallowed. Then he nodded and walked out.

Lucian stayed.

Alistair looked at him. "You have questions."

"I have a lot of questions."

"Your mother will answer some of them. Not all."

"She never does."

Alistair almost smiled. "No. She doesn’t."

---

The Vale Estate was lit up like a fortress.

Lucian walked through the front gates, past the beastkin guards who nodded but didn’t speak. The driveway was long, lined with trees that had been planted before he was born. His mother’s car was in the garage—the black one, the one she used for Council business.

Margaret waited for him in her study.

She stood by the window, her back to the door, a glass of wine in her hand. The fire crackled in the hearth, but the room felt cold.

"Close the door," she said.

He closed it.

She turned. Her face was calm, but her eyes were tired. The same tired he’d seen in Alistair, in the monks, in every hunter who had survived long enough to know what was coming.

"The Springs," she said. "How was it?"

"Different."

"Different how?"

Lucian walked to the fire, stood with his back to the flames. "The energy there. It’s not like anything I’ve felt before. It doesn’t push. It just... waits."

Margaret set down her wine glass. "That’s what the monks do. Wait."

"The old one. He said he knew you."

A pause.

"I studied under him. Years ago, before I joined the Council." She walked to the window, looked out at the dark garden. "He was a Prime Human. One of the strongest of his generation. He served on the High Flame Council for decades before he retired to the mountains."

"What’s his name?"

"Brother Caius. He doesn’t use his old name anymore. He says the mountains took it from him."

Lucian watched her back. "He said I was different."

"They always say that."

"Not like this."

Margaret turned. Her eyes searched his face, looking for something. He didn’t know if she found it.

"The energy of the Springs is neutral. It doesn’t care who you are or what you’ve done. It just is." She walked toward him. "But it responds to people. To their nature. If Brother Caius said you’re different, he means the Springs responded to you in a way he hasn’t seen before."

"Did they respond to you?"

She stopped a few feet away. "No. I was too stubborn to let them."

Lucian almost smiled.

Margaret’s expression softened. Then it hardened again.

"Valentine has been quiet. Too quiet. His spies are active—we’ve caught three in the past week, embedded in positions we thought were secure." She walked to her desk, picked up a folder, handed it to him. "The pendant is still missing. Voss escaped custody. Someone broke her out, and we don’t know who."

Lucian opened the folder. Photos. Reports. Names.

"She’s working with someone," he said.

"Or someone is working with her. Either way, she’s out there, and the pendant is out there. And Valentine is moving."

Lucian closed the folder. "What do you need from me?"

Margaret looked at him. For a moment, she wasn’t a Council member, wasn’t a hunter, wasn’t one of the most powerful women in the world.

She was just his mother.

"Stay alive," she said. "That’s all I need."

---

The drive back to Ashford was quiet.

Lucian sat in the back of the black car, the folder on the seat beside him, the city lights blurring past the window.

His mother had told him about the monk. About Brother Caius, the former Prime Human, the old High Flame Council member who had traded power for peace.

She hadn’t told him about his father.

She never did.

The car pulled into the Keep’s garage. Lucian stepped out, walked through the empty halls, and found his room.

He sat on the edge of the bed, the folder unopened, and stared at the wall.

Somewhere out there, Voss was running. Somewhere out there, the pendant was hidden. Somewhere out there, Valentine was planning.

And Lucian was here, in this room, in this quiet, waiting for the storm.

He lay back on the bed and closed his eyes.

Tomorrow, they would fight.

Tonight, he would rest.