Chapter 1: The Returned Scion

It was the end of summer, the third year King Alaric had been on the throne. A day of pouring rain finally hit Riverbend Hold.

The morning of the twenty-ninth had been clear and sunny. But by noon, dark, stormy clouds rolled in, hiding the sun completely. Rain fell like stones, making everything a blur. No one complained, though. Instead, people laughed with joy. The rain was good for the dry land, ending the long dry spell. It also seemed to wash away the fear left over from the Eclipse of the Shadow Beast.

The rain kept falling all day and all night, stopping just before dawn on the first day of the next month. The clouds broke apart, leaving everything on the Thorne manor grounds looking fresh and clear. But Lord Cassian Thorne, the second head of the family, wasn't feeling clear-headed at all. He ran through the wet courtyard, not even noticing how beautiful the morning was. He was out of breath, his face pale with worry.

"My Lord, slow down!" his aide puffed, trying to keep up.

A group of servants rushed to meet him. When they saw Lord Cassian looking so disheveled, some of the women gasped.

"Quick, help the Lord!"

"My Lord, take it easy!"

Strong housekeepers stepped forward, grabbing Lord Cassian's arms to steady him.

But Lord Cassian pushed forward a few more steps, shouting, "Don't stop me! How is Lady Elara?"

The growing crowd surrounded him.

"Second Brother, calm down," a family matron in her thirties said, stepping forward. "The eldest young lady is with Lady Seraphina."

Lord Cassian's anxiety didn't ease. He took a few deep breaths and shoved the servants aside.

"How many returned?" he demanded, rushing further inside. "What in the name of the Void happened? Was Elara hurt?"

The matrons and maids hurried after him, their numbers slowing his pace.

"Only Master Bramwell returned with her," the first woman replied.

Lord Cassian was so frantic he didn't even recognize the name.

"The one who drives the young lady's carriage," the woman added. "As for what happened, the young lady says nothing at all."

Nothing happened? That was impossible.

She had disappeared on the road. The search party had found her carriage, smashed to kindling, and the horses dead. Even without finding a body, everyone had presumed the worst. Now, half a month after she had vanished, she had simply returned home. If that counted as "nothing happened," then the Void itself had taken a stroll through Riverbend Hold.

There had to be something. Something significant, and something she was unwilling to speak of. Lord Cassian's face hardened as he quickened his pace, entering a familiar courtyard. The yard was filled with people—servants, maids, young women, and matrons. Some sat quietly, others whispered in small groups. A chorus of greetings erupted as Lord Cassian appeared, but he waved them off, ignoring them all as he strode into the house.

Inside, his wife, the sharp-eyed Lady Seraphina, met him. She was over forty, dressed in a simple, elegant gown, her face a mask of worry.

"I received the news and rushed back overnight," Lord Cassian said, dispensing with pleasantries. "How is Elara?"

His gaze swept the room. Besides Seraphina and a few attendants, it was empty. The inner chamber door was tightly shut.

Seraphina's expression remained grim. "My Lord, I believe Elara is injured."

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A smashed carriage, missing people, a half-month absence—of course there had been an injury. Lord Cassian took a slow, deep breath. "What does the master healer say?"

"We haven't seen one yet," Seraphina said.

It had been a day and a night since her return. Lord Cassian's brows furrowed in disbelief. Seraphina simply raised a hand and pointed to her own face.

"The injury is to her face," she said.

From the courtyard, the whispers continued.

"It has to be her face."

"Only an injury like that would make her refuse to see a healer."

"The servants saw it when she arrived; her head and face were completely wrapped."

"She wouldn't even let the Grand Matron see."

"She speaks and moves perfectly, and she didn't miss a single bite of her meal, even though we couldn't see her."

The young noblewomen sitting under the purple wisteria trellis were also talking, the topic centering on Lady Elara, the eldest daughter of the Thorne house. A good appetite could be a sign of strength and recovery.

"We were so worried last night we couldn't sleep," one young woman said, rubbing her stomach. "We came before dawn and didn't even have the heart to eat."

"The wound must not be that serious," another agreed. She couldn't imagine eating if she were gravely injured.

"But a wound to the face can never be considered light," a third girl shook her head. "It's her face, after all."

For a young noblewoman, even a small scar from a mosquito bite was a tragedy. To have an injury so severe that she had to keep her entire head wrapped and hidden… what could it look like?

"No wonder she came back," one girl murmured, the thought dawning on her. "With a face like that, she can't marry Lord Kaelan Blackwood."

A disfigured woman was unmarriageable. No man would want to take a wife whose face he couldn't bear to look upon. This was the first thing the young women thought of, but for Lord Cassian, it was a secondary concern.

After hearing Seraphina's account of Elara's state, he was sure she had no physical injuries, save for her face. It must have been from the stones that crushed the carriage; it was a miracle she had survived at all. Any wounds were simply a consequence of that great fortune. Her life was safe, and that was all that mattered.

Lord Cassian let out a long breath. He nodded to his wife and walked to the inner chamber door, raising his hand to tap gently. "Elara, it's always best to have a healer look at it. A wound to the face is not incurable."

The door had remained silent while he spoke with his wife, but now, his knock was answered.

"Thank you, Uncle," a woman's voice replied calmly. "I've already had a healer look at it. There is no need for another."

No need for another meant it couldn't be healed. Lord Cassian stood in silence.

"There are many master healers in the world," he said, his voice firm. "We must at least try."

"Your concern is appreciated, Uncle," the voice replied. "But for now, it's not necessary."

Lord Cassian was about to protest further, but Seraphina tugged his sleeve and shook her head. He trusted his wife, so he held his tongue. The voice from within was calm and composed, not that of a madwoman or someone lost to grief.

Seraphina gave him another meaningful look.

"Very well," he nodded. "The important thing is that you've returned safely. Everything else is secondary. Get some rest."

"I will. Thank you, Uncle," the voice said from within.

"Then you rest," Lord Cassian said briskly. "Your aunt and I will return home. If you need anything, send for us."

After a final word of thanks from within, Seraphina went ahead, instructing the servants in the courtyard to leave. A moment of rustling chaos passed, and then the space was quiet again. Lord Cassian gave a few last instructions and stepped back into the courtyard.

"Is it wise to just leave her?" he asked in a low voice, frowning.

"It is not a matter of leaving her," Seraphina replied. "An injury to her face… forcing her to see healer after healer will only cause her repeated trauma. Don't push her to the brink of a breakdown."

Lord Cassian took a deep breath. "A wound heals best when treated early."

"That's true, my Lord," Seraphina nodded. "And I have already sent people to search for master healers. But Elara has been through fifteen days of hardship. Let's allow her to recover."

Lord Cassian nodded. "I can't imagine what she went through in that half-month."

He would let her recover. Some things could wait a day or two to be discussed.

The faint sound of footsteps faded away. In the quiet courtyard, only a few remaining maids stood motionless.

Inside the chamber, the young woman stood by the window, her gaze on the mirror on her vanity table. The person in the mirror was still wrapped in black cloth, her gaze from the small slit deep and profound.

Lady Elara Thorne had returned.

But it wasn't from a half-month journey.

It was from a decade-long one.