Chapter 78: The Guardian’s Recognition
Kael lasted seven seconds.
On the eighth, the violet edge around his sword collapsed.
His knees did not buckle this time.
That counted as progress.
Darius still struck him across the shoulder.
Kael stumbled sideways and caught himself before falling.
I released it.
Too late.
By half a second.
Darius lowered his practice sword. Half a second is enough time for someone to put steel through your ribs.
Kael rubbed his shoulder.
You could demonstrate that lesson without actually hitting me.
I could.
Darius made no further comment.
Kael stared at him.
Across the training yard, Victor Ravenshade failed completely to hide his amusement. Marcus Wintermere stood beside him with his arms folded, paying closer attention to Kael’s Aura than to the exchange itself.
The founding Black Dragons had become accustomed to seeing Kael train with Darius since his return from Bellhaven. The novelty of the prince’s dark-violet Aura had lasted approximately two days. After that, Darius had converted the discovery into repetition, measurements, mistakes, and enough bruises to eliminate anything romantic about it.
Night Aura remained unstable.
Seven seconds was Kael’s current best under movement.
Nine if he stood still.
Five if he tried to use it while defending against Darius.
Three when he attempted to transition directly from Ice reinforcement.
Less than two when he tried mixing Light into the same exchange.
Blood Manipulation had not been tested alongside it at all.
Darius had refused.
Kael had argued.
Darius had continued refusing.
Eventually Kael had learned that being a prince did not help much when the man saying no was one of the Four Imperial Shields.
Darius pointed toward the center of the yard.
Again.
Kael looked at him.
You just told me my control failed.
Yes.
And now you want me to do it again.
With normal Aura.
Kael frowned.
Then why did you say again?
Because we are training again.
That is deliberately misleading.
Fight.
Kael raised his sword.
The lesson changed immediately.
No Night Aura.
No Ice.
No Light.
No Blood Manipulation.
Only swordsmanship and ordinary Aura.
Kael recognized the trap.
Darius had spent several days teaching him how to access the denser violet state. Now he was taking it away before Kael became dependent on it.
Kael moved first.
Darius parried.
The blades separated.
Kael used a short Aura reinforcement through his wrist and attacked the opposite side.
Darius turned the strike.
Kael disengaged rather than contesting strength.
Better.
Kael almost smiled.
Then Darius swept his front leg.
Kael barely recovered.
You really need another word.
No.
They circled.
Kael attacked again.
This time Darius gave him the center.
Too easily.
Kael refused it.
Darius smiled faintly.
Victor called from the edge of the yard.
I would’ve taken that.
Marcus looked toward him.
We know.
Victor frowned.
Why does everyone keep saying that?
Because you keep proving it.
Kael almost lost focus laughing.
Darius punished him immediately.
The practice blade struck his ribs.
Not hard enough to injure.
Hard enough to remind him that enemies did not suspend combat for jokes.
Kael stepped back.
Darius lowered his sword.
What are you thinking about?
That Victor talks too much.
Wrong answer.
Kael adjusted his grip.
Night Aura.
There.
Darius nodded.
Kael frowned.
I’m not using it.
You’re still fighting around it.
Kael became quiet.
Darius continued. You discovered something unusual. Now every exchange has become a question of when you should activate it.
He raised his sword.
That means it is already controlling your decisions.
Kael looked toward his own blade.
He understood.
The same thing had happened with Ice when he first learned to use it in combat. Every problem became something to freeze because freezing things was what Kael could do.
Then Light.
Then Blood.
Now Night Aura.
Abilities created habits before mastery created judgment.
Kael exhaled.
So what do I do?
Darius attacked.
Kael blocked.
Forget you have it.
That’s your advice?
For this round.
Another strike.
Kael moved.
Darius followed.
Win without needing it.
The fight lasted twelve minutes.
Darius could have ended it earlier.
Everyone knew that.
The point was not victory.
It was decision-making.
Kael gradually stopped waiting for the moment when ordinary Aura became insufficient. He stopped treating Night Aura as the hidden answer sitting behind every exchange.
His footwork improved.
His breathing stabilized.
He used fewer reinforcement bursts.
When Darius increased pressure, Kael changed distance instead of output.
When Darius gave him an opening, Kael tested whether the opening served his position rather than taking it simply because it existed.
Eventually Kael landed one clean strike against Darius’s left shoulder.
Not because he became faster.
Because Darius expected him to reinforce through the final step.
Kael did not.
He shortened it.
The blade touched cloth.
Everyone around the yard went quiet.
Kael stared.
Darius looked at the practice sword resting against his shoulder.
Then at Kael.
Good.
Kael lowered the blade.
That one deserves it.
Darius nodded.
Yes.
Victor groaned.
Kael looked toward him.
What?
I’ve been trying to earn one for weeks.
Darius turned.
You are currently earning additional conditioning.
Victor’s expression changed.
For what?
Talking during another man’s training.
Marcus laughed.
Victor pointed toward him.
He talked too.
Marcus is capable of silence when useful.
That’s favoritism.
Darius looked toward Hugo Stone.
Five additional hill runs for Victor.
Victor stared.
You can’t increase punishment because I complained about punishment.
Darius raised an eyebrow.
Ten.
Victor stopped talking.
Kael smiled.
Darius turned back.
Do not enjoy his suffering. You’re running with him.
Kael’s smile disappeared.
Why?
You lost concentration twice because he spoke.
Victor immediately looked happier.
Kael hated everyone.
The Ironridge message arrived while they were still recovering.
A regional rider entered Blackwood shortly before midday, carrying two sealed packets: one for Edwin and one specifically for Grom Ironfang.
That brought Grom to the estate study immediately.
Kael arrived several minutes later after changing out of his training clothes.
Darius came too.
So did Lily.
Edwin looked toward the growing group.
Does everyone need to be here?
Grom lifted his packet.
Mine apparently concerns Goblin history.
Kael pointed toward himself.
Mine concerns everything because this is my office.
Lily sat near the window.
I brought the correspondence in.
Darius said nothing.
Edwin looked at him.
Darius remained silent.
Edwin sighed.
Fine.
The first report came from Ironridge’s scholarly team.
The Hall of Guardians investigation had continued.
No one had crossed the mysterious barrier.
No one had attempted to force the mechanism.
Augustus had explicitly prohibited testing royal blood or Imperial family signets until the scholars understood what the ward actually did.
Instead, they had kept studying the statues.
That work had produced something better than a magical trial.
Names.
Histories.
Connections.
Kael read the first section.
Of the eight hundred twelve statues documented so far, sixty-three had inscriptions preserved well enough for substantial translation.
Twelve belonged to clearly military roles.
Nine appeared administrative.
Seven concerned supply or infrastructure.
Five referenced mediation between groups or territories.
Four appeared connected to healing.
Others remained uncertain.
Kael looked up.
So they weren’t all warriors.
Edwin shook his head.
Apparently not.
Darius looked unsurprised.
A realm is not defended only with swords.
Grom opened his packet.
Inside were copies of four inscriptions the Imperial historians believed might involve Goblin language or titles.
He read silently.
Then slower.
Kael watched his expression.
Recognize anything?
Maybe.
Kael almost laughed.
Grom looked over.
You created this problem.
Continue.
Grom pointed toward the first name.
Raska Ironjaw.
They already knew Ironjaw was an old Goblin war-clan title rather than a surname.
The newly translated inscription beneath Raska’s statue provided more.
Grom read the Imperial rendering first.
Raska Ironjaw. Speaker of the Eastern Host. Carried seven clan fires through the Red Valley withdrawal. Refused the western crown.
Kael frowned.
Western crown?
Grom shook his head.
That translation is probably wrong.
How wrong?
The old Goblin term might mean crown. It might also mean chief-seat or permanent rule.
Edwin began writing.
Why refuse it?
Grom continued reading.
The next line was damaged.
Then:
Returned the fires to their clans after the danger passed.
Darius leaned forward slightly.
Temporary command.
Grom nodded.
That matches old clan traditions.
Kael thought back to their earlier discussion.
A Goblin war-speaker could coordinate multiple clans during crisis but did not automatically become ruler afterward.
Authority granted for a purpose.
Then returned.
Kael looked toward Grom.
Does your oral history mention Raska?
Not by that name.
Red Valley?
Yes.
Tell us what you remember.
Grom sat.
The others waited.
He did not turn the story into a performance.
My grandfather’s version says seven eastern clans were trapped between a human army and something coming from the mountains.
Kael frowned.
Something?
That is the word he used.
Monster army?
Maybe. Could mean enemy. Could mean winter. Could mean disaster.
Kael nodded.
Continue.
The clans chose one speaker to coordinate the retreat.
Grom looked toward the inscription.
He carried embers from seven clan fires so everyone could see that his authority came from all seven.
And afterward?
He returned the fires.
Darius looked toward Kael.
No bearer may appoint himself.
Kael remembered the Ironridge inscription immediately.
That did not prove a direct connection.
But it strengthened the possibility that the Hall of Guardians preserved multiple traditions about authority being entrusted rather than simply inherited.
Edwin wrote that down carefully.
Not proof, he said.
Kael smiled.
Everyone looked at him.
What?
Lily shook her head.
Nothing.
The second inscription was stranger.
Aren Vaelor — Commander of the Third Passage.
The name had appeared repeatedly beneath Ironridge.
The new translation added:
Recognized among the Guardians after defeating no enemy.
Victor, who had somehow found his way into the doorway after training, frowned.
That’s not much of a qualification.
Darius turned.
Why are you here?
Victor immediately stepped backward.
I was leaving.
Do that.
Victor vanished.
Kael continued reading.
Recognized among the Guardians after defeating no enemy. Preserved three thousand lives by refusing the Battle of Caer Hollow.
Darius’s expression changed.
Kael noticed.
You like that.
I respect it.
Difference?
Usually.
Kael looked at the inscription again.
A military commander honored for refusing a battle.
That was more interesting than another legendary swordsman.
Edwin continued from the historian’s notes.
Imperial records contain a Caer Hollow engagement, but the surviving official history is fragmentary. One later chronicle claims the opposing armies separated without battle after negotiations between officers.
Kael looked toward Darius.
Could refusing battle really earn someone a place among guardians?
If the battle was unnecessary?
Yes.
Darius answered without hesitation.
Command is not measured by how many opportunities you find to prove courage.
The words landed harder because Kael had recently needed that lesson himself.
Bellhaven.
Ironridge.
The urge to enter every mystery personally.
The urge to use every ability because he possessed it.
Strength alone was easy to admire.
Restraint was harder.
The third inscription belonged to someone named Mirae Tollen.
Not a warrior.
A supply keeper.
Kael read:
Mirae Tollen — Keeper of Stores during the Seven-Month Siege. Refused noble ration privilege when the southern grain failed. Lost office. Saved the winter reserve. Restored after review.
Lily leaned forward.
I like her.
Edwin looked toward the name.
So do I.
Kael smiled.
Of course both of you chose the administrator.
Darius looked toward him.
She may have saved more lives than most generals represented in the chamber.
Kael nodded.
That was exactly the point.
The Hall of Guardians was becoming less like an ancient military order and more like a record of people trusted with decisions affecting others.
Soldiers.
Judges.
Storekeepers.
Negotiators.
Engineers.
Possibly rulers.
Maybe the word guardian had survived because modern Imperial historians preferred martial language.
Or maybe the older word meant something broader.
The scholars had not decided.
Good.
Kael did not say it this time.
The fourth inscription changed the room.
Not because it was dramatic.
Because Darius recognized the term.
The figure’s name was mostly damaged.
Only the title survived.
[Name lost] — Bearer of the Night Blade.
Kael’s attention sharpened.
Darius took the page.
The historians had added three competing translations.
Bearer of the Night Blade.
Swordsman of the Compressed Dark Aura.
Keeper of the Dusk Edge.
None confirmed.
Below the damaged name remained a short description.
Entered the eastern breach after three captains fell. Held the passage until evacuation completed. Refused elevation afterward, stating the strength belonged to the task and not the man.
Kael looked toward Darius.
Night Aura?
Maybe.
Kael groaned.
Darius smiled faintly.
You deserve that.
The old commander studied the copied symbols.
The phrase resembles terminology from Aura texts I’ve seen.
How closely?
Enough that I would want the original inscription compared with known manuscripts.
Not enough to say it’s the same thing?
Correct.
Kael accepted that.
Mostly.
The description mattered more than the name.
Strength belonged to the task.
Not the man.
Kael leaned back.
That’s a strange way to describe power.
Darius shook his head.
No.
Why?
Because soldiers often make the opposite mistake.
Darius placed the page down.
They survive one battle using an exceptional technique and begin believing the exception describes who they are.
Kael understood immediately.
Night Aura.
Seven seconds.
Rare enough to become tempting.
Powerful enough to reshape how Kael thought about himself if he let it.
Darius continued.
If that inscription is translated correctly, whoever this person was understood that using unusual strength during a crisis did not make him permanently entitled to more authority afterward.
Grom nodded.
Same as returning the clan fires.
Exactly.
Different cultures.
Similar idea.
Kael looked at the documents spread across the table.
The pattern was becoming difficult to ignore.
Not a single hidden civilization.
Not necessarily one formal organization.
A repeated principle.
Authority tied to responsibility.
Strength tied to purpose.
Recognition coming from what someone did with power rather than power itself.
That might be what the Hall preserved.
The scholars still had months of work before anyone could say it confidently.
The report contained one final development.
The barrier.
Mistress Elayne had discovered that the ward did not activate when approached by rank.
Captain Ors had tested it.
Nothing.
Sir Corren.
Nothing.
An Imperial archive official carrying an early authority seal.
Nothing.
A military officer carrying the Ironridge command token.
Nothing.
Then something unexpected happened.
A clerk touched one of the four surrounding symbols while reading an inscription aloud.
The ward responded.
Not opened.
Responded.
Kael read the sequence.
The clerk had been translating the inscription associated with Mirae Tollen—the storekeeper who refused noble ration privilege during the siege.
When he reached the phrase accepted the consequence of judgment, the symbol provisionally translated as burden illuminated.
No other mechanism activated.
No barrier formed.
No one was harmed.
The scholars repeated the reading.
Nothing.
Kael frowned.
One-time reaction?
Possibly.
Edwin glanced toward him.
That word is beginning to sound normal.
I hate that.
The report proposed several explanations.
Residual magical recognition of specific language.
Physical pressure placed accidentally on the mechanism.
A ward responding to some aspect of the reader.
Coincidence.
No conclusion.
Kael read Elayne’s note at the bottom.
We will not invent a chosen person because a stone briefly glowed.
Lily smiled.
I definitely like her.
Kael agreed.
Training resumed that afternoon.
Darius changed the exercise.
This time Kael was allowed Night Aura.
He simply was not told when to use it.
Three founding Black Dragons rotated against him.
Marcus first.
Then Leon.
Then Damien with a blunted spear.
Kael could activate the violet state once during each round.
No more.
That made the real question obvious.
Not could he use it?
When was it worth the cost?
Against Marcus, Kael made the wrong choice.
Marcus pressed hard during the opening exchanges, and Kael activated Night Aura because he felt himself losing control of the center.
The dark-violet reinforcement sharpened his movement.
For six seconds, Kael became harder to pressure.
He forced Marcus back.
Then the Aura collapsed.
Marcus remained perfectly functional.
He attacked again.
Kael spent the next four minutes fighting with increased fatigue.
Marcus won.
Darius looked toward him.
Why did you activate it?
Kael drank water.
I was losing the center.
Were you losing the fight?
Kael thought.
No.
Then?
I used it to fix something that felt bad instead of something that mattered.
Exactly.
Marcus sat nearby.
You did look impressive.
Kael stared.
Not helping.
Marcus smiled.
Against Leon, Kael waited too long.
The exchange remained close.
Leon used his shield intelligently, gradually reducing Kael’s available lanes.
Kael recognized the trap.
He kept waiting for a perfect moment.
It never came.
Leon trapped Kael near the boundary and struck his chest before Kael activated anything.
Darius stopped the round.
Kael sighed.
Too late.
Yes.
So one round I used it too early. The next too late.
Correct.
Very educational.
Darius ignored the sarcasm.
The third round was Damien.
Spear against sword.
Kael hated the range immediately.
Damien knew that.
He did not attack recklessly.
He simply maintained distance.
Kael tested one side.
Denied.
Changed direction.
Denied.
Attempted entry.
Damien retreated exactly enough.
Three minutes passed.
No Night Aura.
Darius said nothing.
Damien made the first real mistake.
Or perhaps it was not a mistake.
His rear foot crossed slightly behind the other as he adjusted around a damaged patch of training ground.
A small opening.
Kael saw it.
Did not activate.
He attacked normally.
Damien recovered.
The opening vanished.
Darius remained silent.
Another minute.
Damien changed rhythm.
Fast thrust.
Retreat.
Pause.
Then a second fast thrust.
Kael parried both.
On the third repetition, Damien shortened the retreat.
Kael recognized the adaptation too late.
The spearhead came toward his shoulder.
Kael activated Night Aura.
Not everywhere.
Only through his right leg and sword arm.
The violet reinforcement formed.
Dense.
Controlled.
Kael stepped inside the spear line.
Damien tried withdrawing.
Kael did not chase the weapon.
He attacked the space.
His shoulder reached Damien before the spear could reset.
Kael turned.
Blunted sword against Damien’s ribs.
Contact.
Darius called,
Stop.
Night Aura disappeared.
Kael stepped backward.
His breathing was heavier.
But stable.
Damien rubbed his side.
That was unpleasant.
Kael smiled.
Darius looked at him.
Why then?
Kael answered immediately.
Because Damien had already changed his rhythm and shortened his retreat. The threat wasn’t one attack. He was about to control the next sequence.
Darius nodded.
And the Aura?
Enough to cross the distance before he reset.
Not enough to overwhelm him?
No.
Kael looked toward Damien.
I didn’t need to overpower the spear. I needed to arrive before it became useful again.
Damien nodded.
Darius said,
Good.
This time Kael did smile.
He had earned that one.
Later, Darius found him sitting near the edge of the training yard.
Kael was examining his hand.
No violet Aura.
Just bruised fingers.
Darius sat beside him.
You are disappointed.
Kael looked over.
About what?
Seven seconds.
Darius waited.
Kael continued.
When it first happened, I thought—
He stopped.
Darius finished for him.
You thought you’d unlocked something that would immediately change what you could do.
Yes.
Instead you discovered another thing you’re bad at.
Kael laughed.
That’s a brutal way to say it.
Accurate.
They watched Victor finish the hill runs he had earned that morning.
Kael continued.
The System called it Night Aura.
Darius nodded.
Ironridge may have an old reference to something similar.
Maybe.
Kael looked at him.
Darius smiled.
Kael sighed.
Then asked,
If it is the same thing, what does that mean?
Very little.
Kael frowned.
Darius continued.
It means someone else may have developed a similar Aura state before you.
That’s all?
What did you want?
Kael thought.
A manual would be nice.
Darius laughed.
Fair.
Then his expression became serious.
You should hope others had it.
Why?
Because being unique sounds impressive until you need someone to teach you.
That was true.
Kael looked toward the yard.
If the Ironridge inscription is actually Night Aura, maybe there are records somewhere.
Maybe.
You’re doing it deliberately now.
Yes.
Kael shook his head.
Darius continued.
Do not build your identity around rare power.
I know.
Do you?
Kael looked at him.
Darius pointed toward the soldiers training ahead.
Victor is faster than most people his age.
Marcus has more raw Aura than many knights.
Iris can track things most trained scouts miss.
Grom has decades of spear experience.
Hugo understands armor.
Edwin understands administration better than anyone in this estate.
He looked toward Kael.
Which one of them should rule because of that?
None.
Exactly.
Kael understood where this was going.
A rare ability proved capacity in one area.
Nothing else.
Strength proves capacity.
Judgment proves fitness.
Darius nodded.
And even fitness for one task does not automatically become fitness for every task.
That was the deeper problem.
Kael could be excellent in battle and terrible at taxes.
Good with people and bad with logistics.
Brilliant at one magical affinity and reckless with another.
No single strength settled the question of rulership.
At Ironridge, Mistress Elayne reached a similar conclusion through stone.
The historians had spent another day cataloguing the guardians.
The word recognized appeared repeatedly.
That caught their attention.
Recognized by whom?
At first they assumed a monarch.
Then they found three inscriptions contradicting that.
One referred to recognition by a military company.
Another by three settlements.
A third by something translated provisionally as the gathered houses, though none of the scholars knew whether that meant noble Houses, clan households, or political communities.
Captain Ors read the translations.
So there was no single authority selecting these people.
Elayne shook her head.
Apparently not.
Sir Corren looked across the statues.
Then why are they all here together?
That’s the question.
One historian proposed that the Hall had been built later to preserve multiple traditions.
Another believed the site had belonged to a confederation predating full Imperial centralization.
A third argued that early Asterion rulers might have deliberately collected regional heroes into one political memory.
None could prove it.
Then they found a phrase repeated beneath four unrelated figures.
Recognition follows burden carried.
Corren read it twice.
That’s the Hall’s rule.
Elayne immediately objected.
It’s a repeated inscription.
Not necessarily a rule.
He sighed.
Do you ever allow anything to be satisfying?
After evidence.
Captain Ors smiled.
Corren muttered something.
The historian continued.
One expanded version survived:
Recognition follows burden carried, judgment shown, and power returned when the need has passed.
That silenced even Elayne for a moment.
Not because it was magical.
Because it connected several patterns they had already found.
Raska returning the clan fires.
Aren refusing battle.
Mirae accepting loss of office after ration judgment.
The unidentified Night Blade refusing elevation after the breach.
Authority used.
Then released.
Captain Ors looked toward the empty ceremonial seat.
Maybe that’s why it’s empty.
Elayne turned.
Explain.
If the Hall honored people because they carried responsibility and then gave power back, maybe nobody was meant to sit there permanently.
Corren looked toward him.
That is actually good.
Ors seemed offended by the surprise.
Elayne studied the seat.
Possible.
The two men stared at her.
She smiled faintly.
Enjoy it.
When Kael received that translation, he read it alone first.
Recognition follows burden carried, judgment shown, and power returned when the need has passed.
The line bothered him.
Not because he disagreed.
Because he was an Imperial prince.
His authority had not been given temporarily.
He had been born into it.
House Kael was his.
Blackwood belonged under his rule.
His blood determined access to opportunities most people would never receive.
There was no pretending otherwise.
He found Augustus’s black inspection writ inside the desk.
Temporary authority.
That one was different.
The Emperor had given it for specific investigations.
Kael had not gained the right to walk through the Empire judging every official he disliked.
Ironridge had taught him to transfer responsibility when the assignment ended.
The principle fit there easily.
Princes were harder.
Lily entered carrying payroll ledgers.
She saw his expression.
What’s wrong?
Kael handed her the translation.
She read it.
Then looked toward him.
You’re thinking about being born a prince.
Kael stared.
How does everyone do that?
You’re not mysterious.
Apparently.
Lily sat opposite him.
What’s the problem?
Kael looked toward the page.
If authority should be returned when the need passes, what does that mean for people born with permanent authority?
Lily thought.
I don’t know.
That was comforting.
She continued.
Maybe it means you shouldn’t treat every authority you possess as something you need to use.
Kael looked up.
She shrugged.
You’re still Prince Kael if Bram decides where to plant grain without asking you.
True.
You’re still lord of Blackwood if Edwin approves a clerk’s wage.
True.
Darius can command soldiers without you standing beside him.
Kael nodded.
Lily continued.
Maybe giving power back doesn’t always mean giving away the title.
Maybe it means not holding decisions simply because you can.
Kael stared at her.
That’s annoyingly good.
I work with Edwin.
Terrible influence.
She slid the payroll ledger toward him.
Speaking of authority, you need to approve the new hiring thresholds.
Kael looked at the stack.
The philosophy ended quickly.
Government does that.
The System appeared that evening.
Not because Kael passed a trial.
Because his understanding of Night Aura had improved enough for the existing entry to update.
[Night Aura — Provisional Development]
Controlled combat duration: 7 seconds.
Stationary duration: 9 seconds.
Demonstrated effective use: Short-range entry against extended weapon range.
Known limitations:
Rapid stamina consumption. Reduced stability during multi-affinity use. Increased risk of poor judgment when used to compensate for discomfort rather than tactical need. Requires continued standard Aura training.
Then another entry.
[Historical Correlation — Unconfirmed]
Possible references to Night Aura or a similar compressed Aura state have been identified within Ironridge historical inscriptions.
Relationship: Undetermined.
Kael almost laughed.
Even the System refused to give him certainty.
Good.
He said it quietly.
Nobody was nearby to punish him.
A final entry appeared.
[Leadership Observation]
Recognition is not the same as entitlement.
A strength acknowledged by others does not grant authority beyond the task that strength can actually serve.
Kael dismissed the window.
That was the real recognition Ironridge offered.
Not a stone guardian kneeling before him.
Not an ancient champion declaring him worthy.
Not a hidden inheritance waiting for the right bloodline.
Something less flattering.
And more useful.
The past seemed to be telling him that strength mattered.
Judgment mattered more.
And power became dangerous when the person holding it forgot there might come a moment when he should stop using it.
Kael looked through the study window toward the Black Dragon yard.
Tomorrow he would try for eight seconds.
Darius would probably reduce it to six just to annoy him.
Kael smiled.
That was fine.
Night Aura did not need to recognize him.
He needed to learn enough to deserve using it.