Chapter 155 - : What the Records Remembered
Amon woke before sunrise.
For several seconds, he remained still.
Ciara was asleep between him and Kayla.
One tiny hand rested against his arm.
Kayla had turned toward the child sometime during the night.
Amon looked at both of them.
Nothing attacked.
No system warning appeared.
No message demanded his attention.
Good.
He carefully moved Ciara closer to Kayla and stood.
The moment his feet touched the floor, Kayla spoke.
"Where are you going?"
Amon looked back.
Her eyes remained closed.
"Archive."
"Now?"
"Yes."
"It's barely morning."
"The records will still be there."
Kayla opened one eye.
"Normal people eat first."
"I'll eat at the palace."
"That's not what I said."
Amon sighed.
Twenty minutes later, he was sitting downstairs with breakfast in front of him.
Kayla joined him carrying Ciara.
Amon looked at her.
"You didn't need to come down."
"I wanted to."
She sat opposite him.
Neither mentioned the conversation from the previous night.
Not immediately.
There was too much to process.
Amon preferred that.
Kayla eventually broke the silence.
"Are you going alone?"
"To the palace?"
"Yes."
"Obviously."
She frowned.
"Amon."
"It's the royal archive."
"That means nothing anymore."
Fair.
Amon finished eating.
"I'll remain inside the palace."
"That's what you said yesterday."
"I did remain in the capital."
Kayla stared.
Amon corrected himself.
"I'll remain inside the palace until I finish."
"Better."
He stood.
Kayla looked toward him.
"And if you find something important?"
"I'll tell you."
Her expression softened slightly.
"Good."
Amon touched Ciara's head once before leaving.
The streets were already busy.
Yesterday's rumors had only grown.
People recognized him immediately.
Some bowed.
Others simply stared.
Amon ignored most of them.
One child shouted his name from across the street.
Amon kept walking.
The child's father immediately dragged him backward and apologized.
Amon frowned.
He had done nothing.
The palace gates opened before he arrived.
No messenger stopped him.
No guard asked for identification.
That was new.
A senior attendant met him inside.
"Lord Moonstone."
"Archive."
The attendant bowed.
"His Majesty informed us."
Of course.
Amon followed him through the palace.
The royal archive occupied three levels beneath the western administrative wing.
Unlike the restricted underground sections Amon had visited during the previous night, this place smelled of dust, paper, leather and preservation chemicals.
Shelves filled the chamber.
Thousands.
Possibly tens of thousands.
Amon stopped.
The attendant smiled faintly.
"Is there a specific period you wish to begin with?"
"Moonstone family."
The smile disappeared.
That narrowed very little.
"Which century?"
"Everything older than the kingdom."
The attendant stared.
Amon looked at him.
"Problem?"
"No, my lord."
The man glanced toward the endless shelves.
"It may take some time."
Amon sighed.
Of course.
Three archivists were assigned to assist him.
The first hour produced almost nothing useful.
Tax records.
Marriage agreements.
Military contributions.
Territorial claims.
Amon learned that House Moonstone had once controlled nearly three times its current territory.
Interesting.
Not relevant.
The second hour produced records from the kingdom's founding.
The Moonstones had been one of six major houses that supported the first king.
Their forces were repeatedly described as unusually effective during nighttime battles.
Amon paused.
"Nighttime?"
The archivist nodded.
"Yes, my lord."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
Amon read the document again.
Moonstone troops had been specifically deployed after sunset.
Not once.
Repeatedly.
That was deliberate.
"Find every military record mentioning Moonstone deployments."
The archivists scattered.
Thirty minutes later, Amon had twelve documents.
The pattern was consistent.
Moonstone units fought at night.
They guarded northern roads.
They were frequently assigned to operations involving corrupted creatures.
And somehow, despite smaller numbers, their casualty rates remained unusually low.
Amon frowned.
"What abilities did they use?"
One archivist shook his head.
"These records don't specify."
"Find older ones."
They continued.
By midday, Amon finally found the first useful phrase.
The document was nearly six hundred years old.
Not a royal record.
A copied report from a regional governor who had ruled before Veyne existed.
Amon read slowly.
House Moonstone provided thirty-seven warriors to the defense of Hollow Ford.
Twenty-nine returned.
During the third night, witnesses reported the appearance of silver markings across the warriors' skin.
The governor requested investigation.
House Moonstone refused.
Amon's eyes narrowed.
"Silver markings."
He looked at the archivist.
"Any other references?"
The man searched.
Another appeared.
Then another.
The markings only appeared under specific circumstances.
Night battles.
Extreme danger.
Sometimes around children.
That last part caught Amon's attention.
He read the record twice.
"When was this?"
"Approximately five hundred and ninety years ago."
Amon looked at the report.
A Moonstone estate had been attacked.
The family's defenders were losing.
Then an infant began crying inside the central residence.
Multiple witnesses claimed the surviving Moonstone warriors changed.
Not awakened.
Changed.
Their strength increased.
Their wounds closed faster.
Their eyes reflected silver light.
The attackers were killed.
Afterward, the effects disappeared.
Amon became still.
Not power from the child.
Power around the child.
The old phrase returned.
When the Moonstone Child survives the first moon, the sleeping house begins to rise.
Amon leaned back.
That sounded less like prophecy now.
More like a bloodline event.
"Find records mentioning children born before similar incidents."
The archivists worked faster.
An hour passed.
Then one of them returned carrying a small wooden case.
"This was stored under restricted genealogical materials."
Amon opened it.
Inside were copies of family birth records.
Several names had been circled centuries ago.
Amon compared dates.
A child was born.
Within weeks, Moonstone military activity increased.
Another child, two generations later.
Same pattern.
Then a gap.
Nearly one hundred years.
Another birth.
Another surge in family strength.
Amon's eyes narrowed.
Not every Moonstone child caused it.
Only specific ones.
He turned pages.
Eventually, one record used the phrase directly.
Moonstone Child confirmed.
The date was seven hundred and twelve years ago.
Amon read the surrounding note.
The child survived first moon.
Sixteen adult blood relatives developed temporary lunar marks.
Four manifested previously dormant abilities.
One reached a higher awakening rank without conventional advancement.
Amon stopped.
There it was.
That explained Miraclad's concern.
If Ciara was one of these children, her survival could affect the entire bloodline.
Not just Amon.
Possibly everyone carrying Moonstone blood.
Amon continued reading.
The next lines had been damaged.
Only fragments remained.
...child does not grant strength.
...presence awakens what is sleeping.
...distance affects manifestation.
...closest blood shows strongest response.
Amon's eyes narrowed.
Distance.
That mattered.
The system had chosen him as Ciara's guardian.
But the Moonstone phenomenon might be completely separate from the system.
Two different things centered on the same child.
That was dangerous.
And useful.
He looked at the archivist.
"How many living Moonstones are in the capital?"
The man blinked.
"I wouldn't know."
"Estimate."
"Several hundred?"
Too many.
If Ciara's first month triggered something, the effect could spread through a significant portion of the family.
Amon continued reading.
Another document described conflict.
The birth of a Moonstone Child had caused succession wars.
Of course.
One branch gained stronger manifestations.
Other branches became afraid.
Some tried to move the child.
Some tried to marry into the child's direct line.
One record ended with twenty-three family members dead.
Amon's expression hardened.
There it was.
Human greed.
Far more predictable than cosmic entities.
He now understood why Miraclad had killed someone for suggesting Ciara's death.
If the child's survival awakened the family, killing her could permanently destroy an opportunity they had waited centuries to see again.
But protecting Ciara did not mean Miraclad's intentions were good.
She might want control.
That was more likely.
Amon turned another page.
Then stopped.
A name.
Miraclad Moonstone.
The record was only fifty-eight years old.
Her handwriting.
Amon recognized it from several family documents.
She had personally requested access to these archives decades ago.
Not once.
Nine times.
Amon looked at the archivist.
"Can you see what she read?"
"Possibly."
"Do it."
The archivist returned with an access ledger.
Miraclad had studied:
Moonstone genealogy.
Ancient bloodline manifestation.
Northern estate records.
Child-related incidents.
And one document titled:
The Lunar Reawakening.
Amon's eyes sharpened.
"Where is that?"
The archivist searched.
Then frowned.
"It isn't here."
"Missing?"
"No."
The man looked confused.
"It was transferred."
"Where?"
He checked the ledger.
Then became still.
Amon watched him.
"Where?"
The archivist swallowed.
"House Moonstone northern ancestral estate."
Silence.
Of course.
The same property Miraclad had just frozen through ancestral review.
Amon almost laughed.
Everything returned to the northern estate.
The archive.
His father's claim.
The Moonstone Child records.
Miraclad's obstruction.
That property mattered far more than Darius had admitted.
Amon closed the ledger.
"What else was transferred there?"
The archivist searched.
"Several family-specific records."
"List them."
He began writing.
Amon read each title as it appeared.
Bloodline Dormancy.
Lunar Manifestation Across Generations.
The First House.
Northern Moonstone Burial Registry.
Three sealed technique records.
And one unnamed black volume requiring direct bloodline access.
Amon stopped at the final entry.
"Who authorized the transfer?"
The archivist checked.
"Lady Miraclad."
"When?"
"Thirty-seven years ago."
Amon's expression became cold.
She had been preparing for this long before Ciara existed.
That meant Miraclad had not discovered the Moonstone Child recently.
She had been waiting for one.
Amon stood.
"Make copies of everything I read today."
"All of it?"
"All relevant Moonstone records."
"Yes, my lord."
Amon walked toward the exit.
Then paused.
"One more thing."
The archivist looked up.
"The first-month event."
"Yes?"
"Is it always thirty days after birth?"
The man searched through the oldest genealogical record.
Then shook his head.
"No."
Amon's eyes narrowed.
"What determines it?"
The archivist pointed.
"Here."
Amon read.
The first moon was not counted by days.
It referred to the first full moon after the child's birth.
Amon became still.
"When is the next full moon?"
The archivist thought.
"Three nights from now."
Amon stared.
Three nights.
The royal banquet was also in three nights.
Then the family council hearing the morning after.
Amon's expression changed completely.
Not coincidence.
Miraclad had scheduled everything around the date.
The banquet.
The ancestral review.
The hearing.
She expected something to happen that night.
Amon closed the document.
"How long after moonrise does the event begin?"
The archivist read.
"According to this..."
He hesitated.
"Immediately."
Amon turned toward the exit.
"Have the copies delivered to my residence."
"Yes, my lord."
He left the archive.
The palace corridors suddenly felt much narrower.
Three nights.
At moonrise, if the records were accurate, Ciara would trigger whatever remained dormant inside the Moonstone bloodline.
Possibly across the entire capital.
Miraclad knew.
Severin probably knew.
Others might know enough to exploit it.
That explained the banquet.
Gather the major houses.
Gather the Moonstones.
Put everyone in one location when the event happened.
Amon smiled faintly.
Smart.
But Miraclad had made one mistake.
She had assumed Amon would arrive at the banquet without knowing why it mattered.
That advantage was gone.
He reached the palace courtyard.
The King stood near the steps speaking with Roland.
Both noticed him.
The King frowned.
"You found something."
"Yes."
"Bad?"
Amon considered.
"Complicated."
Roland sighed.
"That usually means bad."
Amon ignored him.
The King approached.
"What did you discover?"
Amon looked toward the afternoon sky.
Three days remained.
He needed security around Kayla.
Control over the banquet location.
Marcus inside the main family.
The northern estate transfer still frozen.
And Miraclad believed she controlled the timing.
Good.
For the first time in several days, Amon felt ahead of the problem rather than behind it.
He looked at the King.
"I need a favor."
The King raised an eyebrow.
"After yesterday, I thought we were beyond favors."
"This one is small."
That made Roland look immediately suspicious.
The King sighed.
"What?"
Amon smiled faintly.
"Do not cancel the banquet."
The King stared.
"I wasn't planning to."
"Good."
Amon looked toward the distant Moonstone district.
"And whatever happens, make sure every senior member of House Moonstone attends."
Roland frowned.
"Why?"
Amon's smile disappeared.
"Because in three nights, I want to see exactly which of them wakes up."