Chapter 40: Departure

The area fell silent except for the sound of the cold breeze.

Rosa gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. Jaenor stared at Morgana as if she had just told him the sun was black.

“What are you saying?” Jaenor whispered, his voice barely louder than the wind outside.

Morgana straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin.

When she spoke again, her voice was steady but filled with old pain. “Yes, it’s true. The creature that has been with you—the Saev’n Divine Beast—has been with my father ever since the day he was born. The old stories say it was born from The Origin itself. They called it the Almighty’s own creation.”

Jaenor’s eyes grew wider and wider as understanding began to dawn on him like a terrible sunrise. His hands began to shake, and he could feel something stirring in his blood—something that had been sleeping but was now waking up.

Morgana watched him carefully, then nodded slowly. “Yes,” she said.

“You are my nephew, Jaenor Arkwright.”

Rosa made a sound like a wounded animal. She knew the name Arkwright. Everyone in the empire knew that name. They were the Old House, as powerful and enduring as any dynasty.

Their story was so old that even a peasant knew about it.

This northern part was no exception.

Morgana continued, her voice growing softer now, filled with old grief. “Your parents—my brother and his wife—were attacked by the daemon’s army of seven generals after you were born. The dark forces knew what you were, what power flowed in your veins. They came in the dead of night with swords and fire and creatures made of shadow.”

“They wanted to take you.”

She paused and looked into the distance, as if she could see the past.

“My father, Alsandair, my brother, and my sister-in-law fought them to the very ends of the world. They killed every last one of his soldiers, but…”

Her voice broke slightly. “But the fight cost them their lives.”

“That Daemon lord has killed them. My father was a strong man, but after fighting with the seven generals, he was exhausted, and at that time, he came and killed him.”

“They died to protect you.”

Jaenor felt like the world was spinning around him.

Everything he thought he knew about himself was crumbling like old parchment in fire. “But why?” he asked.

“Why did they come for me?”

Morgana looked at him with eyes that held centuries of knowledge. “My father Alsandair wielded the Origin power, the same power that now flows through your veins. That red light you have around you – that red haze that appears when you fight – it’s the sign that you are truly an Arkwright. No one else can have that power unless they carry our blood.”

“My father had it, my brother had it, and now you have it too.”

Jaenor looked down at his hands.

Even now, in the dim light of the cottage, he could see it.

A faint red glow, like the last embers of a dying fire, flickered around his fingers. It had been there since the night when he had killed the fiend that attacked him.

When it came for Rosa, something inside Jaenor had awakened. The red light had blazed around him like wildfire, and his strength had become the strength of ten men.

“Everyone believed that no male Arkwright was still alive,” Morgana continued.

“Before my father died, he made sure to mask your presence from the Daemon lord and sent you away with the Ba’narussa. She had been the guardian of our bloodline.”

Rosa was crying now, tears running down her cheeks like small rivers. “We never knew,” she whispered.

Jaenor looked at her, in the eyes; her blue eyes mirrored his own; his mind was a mess. He never knew such a thing happened, and memories from his birth are still unclear, and it was like none of it had happened.

They were silent, staring at each other.

The silence was broken by Darian, who came searching for them. He saw them and cleared his throat.

Morgana turned to him.

“We need to leave. We don’t have much time,” Darian said. He could feel the mood around them, grim and sombre.

Morgana said to Jaenor, “Jaenor, you need to come with me. You are not safe here.”

He looked at Rosa and didn’t know what he should do now. The snake beast, the family, and the Origin power—it was all something he had never thought of. All he wanted was a peaceful life with women in the Frostvale.

Daemon Lord!

He closed his eyes for a moment. Rosa saw it and caressed his cheek, “Sonny, you should do what she says. After all, she is your aunt, your blood.”

Rosa hugged him and cried.

Jaenor leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “And you will always be my mother. Don’t forget that.”

In that moment, Jaenor had decided that he would put his dream of his harem life on hold for now and deal with this Daemon lord. He was aware that he was the reason that his father, Garrick, had died.

He needed to avenge them, all those people.

He moved back and turned to Morgana. “I will come, but with one condition.”

“And that is.”

“My mother will come with me.”

Morgana thought for a moment.

Darian then said, “They are ready to move. We should really get out of here.”

“Those Blackfiends will be here any moment now.”

They moved to the center, where the villagers have gathered. And Rena, Taeryn, and Baren were also present with the horses, ready with them.

Morgana saw them and looked at Jaenor again. “We can’t take your mother with us. It would put her in danger. But I can assure you she will be safe with the rest of the villagers.”

Jaenor frowned. “How?”

Morgana stepped forward, clearing a space with a wave of her hand. She raised both arms, her fingers glowing with arcane light as she began to chant in a low, ancient tongue. In the next heartbeat, a radiant circle of swirling runes and sigils etched itself onto the ground—layer upon layer of complex symbols pulsing with life.

Then, from the glowing magic circle, a brilliant burst of wind and light erupted—and a colossal bird emerged, shimmering with sapphire feathers and licking flames.

Darian gasped, wide-eyed. “Goodness… the Blu-Horned Phoenix!”

He had been at Morgana’s side for many years, but never once had he seen her summon it. And now—here it was, in all its glory. Her legendary summoning beast: the Blu Phoenix.

Gasps and awe rippled through the gathered crowd. Even the bravest among them stood frozen, mesmerized.

Morgana turned, her voice calm and commanding.

“My phoenix will protect them. Is that all right?” she asked.

Jaenor could only nod, his gaze fixed on the creature. The sheer size, the curve of its horns, the flames flickering in its feathers—it was a living marvel. Majestic and powerful beyond words.

Valara stepped forward, eyes wide, breath caught in her throat.

“Thank you, Lady Morgana,” she said, reverently.

She turned to Jaenor.

“I’ll take them up through the Silvermount Range. There’s a tunnel there—the fiends won’t be able to reach it.”

Jaenor nodded solemnly.

Meanwhile, Baren led Ryanna over to Rosa, gently placing her hand in Rosa’s.

“Keep her safe,” he whispered.

Jaenor approached his mother. He said his goodbyes—softly, without need for words. The look they shared said everything.

“Hurry now, people!” Darian said who was standing behind.

Morgana mounted a horse alongside Jaenor, Rena, Taeryn, and Baren. With a final look back, she gave a nod to Darian.

Then they rode off, the Blu Phoenix soaring above them like a fiery sentinel.

Darian remained behind.

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