The morning sun streamed through the towering windows of the Cromwell estate, casting golden hues over the marble floors. Aeros sat upright in his bed, his body still sore from the duel with his father. Though his muscles ached, the weight of unanswered questions pressed on him even more. The symbol on his chest burned slightly, a lingering warmth that had not been there before.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
"You're finally awake," Adrian said as he entered, arms crossed. His expression was unreadable, a mixture of something Aeros couldn't quite place—concern? Curiosity? Respect?
Ellie followed in after him, her usual smirk in place. "Good, now I don't have to feel guilty for eating your share of breakfast."
Aeros rolled his eyes, but before he could respond, the heavy footfalls of another figure echoed behind them. Julius stood at the doorway, his eyes as piercing as ever. Unlike before, there was something else in them. A shadow of thoughtfulness.
"Come with me," Julius ordered.
Aeros hesitated for only a moment before pushing himself off the bed. His father rarely spoke in riddles. If he wanted to show him something, it had to be important.
They walked through the grand hallways of the Cromwell manor in silence, the heavy sound of their boots filling the space between them. Servants who passed by quickly averted their eyes, bowing as Julius strode forward with his usual commanding presence.
Aeros noticed that they were heading toward the west wing of the estate—a part of the manor that had been off-limits for as long as he could remember. When he was younger, he had once tried to sneak in, only for his father's personal guards to catch him before he even got close. Now, Julius was leading him there personally.
They stopped before an ornate set of double doors adorned with intricate carvings of a phoenix entwined with ancient runes. His father placed a hand on the door, and with a faint pulse of mana, the locking mechanisms shifted, allowing the grand entrance to swing open.
The air inside was different. Almost sacred.
Aeros stepped in cautiously. The room was dimly lit, untouched by time. The scent of aged parchment and lavender lingered in the air. At the center of the chamber stood a large portrait, illuminated by a soft glow.
His mother.
Eleanor Cromwell was breathtaking. She had striking silver hair that cascaded down her back like silk, contrasting against her warm, golden eyes—an unusual yet mesmerizing combination. Her features were sharp, regal, and exuded a quiet strength. There was a softness in the way she was painted, her expression carrying a gentle smile that seemed almost out of place within the cold walls of the Cromwell estate.
For the first time in both of his lives, Aeros felt something unfamiliar—a deep longing.
"She was an exceptional woman," Julius murmured beside him, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. "Strong, intelligent, fearless. She loved you more than anything."
Aeros clenched his fists, his throat tightening. Alfred, in his previous life, had never known the warmth of a mother's love. And yet, this body remembered her touch, her voice, her presence. It overwhelmed him.
"Why was she taken from us?" Aeros finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Julius hesitated, something rare for the usually stoic archduke. "That... is not an answer I can give you just yet."
Aeros narrowed his eyes, feeling frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "Then tell me what you can. Who was she really?"
Julius exhaled deeply. "Eleanor was more than just my wife. She was a scholar, an explorer, a woman who sought the truth. She uncovered secrets that many wished had stayed buried. Some of those secrets, even I do not fully understand."
Aeros turned back toward the portrait, his gaze lingering on those warm, golden eyes. "And the symbol on my chest? She knew about it, didn't she?"
Julius's silence was all the confirmation Aeros needed.
Aeros stepped forward and placed his hand on his chest where the symbol had appeared. Though he couldn't see it now, he could still feel its presence, like an ember waiting to ignite.
"The symbol… what does it look like?" he asked.
Julius finally turned his gaze to him. "A crest of intertwining rings, resembling both the sun and the moon. At its core lies a star-like emblem. It is a mark that should not exist in this era."
Aeros frowned. "Then why do I have it?"
Julius glanced at Eleanor's portrait, his expression unreadable. "That is a question we must answer together."
A heavy silence settled between them. Aeros had expected many things from this conversation, but not this level of mystery. His mother had been more than just a noblewoman—she had been a key to something far greater than he had imagined.
Aeros took a deep breath, steadying his thoughts. He wasn't sure what the symbol meant or what his mother had been searching for, but one thing was certain—he wouldn't sit idly by.
"I want to know everything," he said firmly. "If there are secrets about my mother, about our family, I will uncover them."
Julius studied him for a long moment before nodding. "Then be prepared. This path will not be easy."
Aeros smirked, a familiar glint of determination in his eyes. "When has anything in this family ever been easy?"
For the first time in what felt like forever, Julius let out a short chuckle. "You are more like her than I thought."
Aeros turned back toward the portrait, his resolve strengthening. Mother… I will find the truth. No matter what.
Elsewhere in the Kingdom
Far beyond the walls of the Cromwell estate, in the depths of the Aetherion royal archives, a figure clad in dark robes sifted through ancient scrolls. The flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows on the stone walls.
Their gloved hand traced over an old document, eyes narrowing at a familiar crest—one of intertwining rings, a sun and moon intertwined.
"The Forsaken Heir…" they whispered. "It has begun."
The figure rolled the parchment and disappeared into the night, leaving behind only the lingering scent of ink and mystery.
Back at the Manor
Aeros sat alone in his mother's chambers long after Julius had left, staring at her portrait. He had only just begun to grasp the magnitude of what was happening, yet something deep within him told him that this was only the beginning.
The legacy of Eleanor Cromwell was far from over.
And neither was his own.