The Regressed Heir of Ravencrest

Ethan’s gaze settled upon the crest of House Valerian.

A magnificent silver phoenix adorned the center of the banner, its wings spread wide in a graceful arc, each feather meticulously rendered in silver and white. Fine golden accents traced the edges of its wings and tail, while a slender golden crown rested above its head. Behind it stretched a deep sapphire field, making the pale phoenix stand out with an almost ethereal brilliance.

Beyond the banner, pale stone walls caught the morning light, tall windows framed in the same gold as the crest. Every hedge along the main path stood trimmed to match its neighbor. It was the kind of place built to be looked at, Ethan thought, and yet there was no one about to admire it.

There was something distinctly regal about the design. It possessed none of the crude ferocity often found in the crests of great houses. Instead, its beauty carried a quiet majesty—the kind that came not from displaying power, but from possessing enough of it to remain graceful.

"Hey, kid."

Just as the words reached Ethan’s ears, Iris appeared beside him without warning, catching him in the middle of taking in the vast estate of House Valerian.

Reining in his surprise, he turned to look at her, taking in the silver hair flowing gracefully around her face and the familiar glint in her eyes. It was the same face he remembered from his previous life, the last time he’d seen her before she departed for the most forbidden continent.

Ethan finally locked eyes with her.

"You’re an interesting one, aren’t you? If someone suddenly dragged you off somewhere without warning, you’d at least expect them to panic. Yet there’s not even a hint of emotion on your face."

"It seems you recognize me. Or perhaps you recognized the crest?" Iris said.

"Why did you bring me here?"

Rune leaped off from his shoulder and settled on the ground. A slight tremor ran through his legs as he sensed her presence, but he held his ground.

"So you recognize me, huh? Let’s say I was bored and looking for something interesting. Besides, I can treat your injuries while I’m at it."

———

Word of her presence had already reached the estate before they’d taken more than a dozen steps through the courtyard.

A pair of knights stationed near the outer wall froze mid-patrol, their eyes going wide as they sensed the Mage Saint. One of them turned toward the inner halls without a word and sprinted.

Servants abandoned their duties mid-task, scattering toward the main hall at the sound of running boots. A steward nearly dropped the tray he was carrying, catching himself against the doorframe before sprinting the other way. Somewhere deeper in the estate, a bell began to ring—three sharp tolls, the kind reserved for emergencies. By the time Iris reached the courtyard steps, half a dozen guards had already gathered near the entrance, weapons sheathed but hands hovering close, unsure whether to kneel or clear a path.

In the grand study of House Valerian, Duke Lucas Valerian had already sensed the presence of his mother—unmistakable to him after a lifetime spent in her shadow.

Mother returned?

He set the report down without bothering to finish reading it and rose from his desk, already moving toward the main hall.

Iris crossed the distance to the main hall at a measured pace, with Ethan and Rune following a few paces behind. Her eyes softened immediately when she saw the girl sitting on a chair, reading a book as if entirely immersed in it, unaware of the commotion happening throughout the estate.

She had the kind of delicate, striking features that made people look twice—pale silver hair, the same shade as Iris’s, falling in a neat braid over one shoulder. Her face still carried the softness of childhood, but there was already a sharpness in her eyes that suggested she’d grown up around people who expected her to remain composed. She sat with her chin lifted and shoulders straight, carrying the careful posture of someone taught from an early age exactly how a Valerian was meant to conduct herself.

"There’s my little girl," Iris said softly.

The girl, immersed in her own world, felt a sudden jolt. She turned at lightning speed, her eyes finding Iris, and immediately stood, setting her book down with practiced grace.

Iris closed the remaining distance and opened her arms wide, and the girl immediately stepped into the embrace, wrapping her arms around Iris’s waist with quiet affection.

"You finally came," she said, smiling as she looked at her grandmother.

"You didn’t even write me any letters," Iris said to her.

"I did send you some."

"You sent me only three in five years. I’d expect something more from my cute little granddaughter."

"I at least sent you letters," Isabella replied calmly. "You didn’t even come to visit me."

Iris huffed, clearly amused, allowing herself a ghost of a smile before stepping back, her composure already reasserting itself.

"Isabella."

The whisper was barely audible, and only then did her attention drift past her grandmother.

A small, silver-furred creature stood a few paces away, its sharp blue eyes watching the reunion with curiosity.

Then her gaze landed on the boy a pace behind him.

Blood soaked through his tattered clothes in more places than Isabella could count, dark and still faintly wet along the edges. His face was pale beneath the grime of battle, one arm held protectively against his injured ribs, and yet he stood without so much as swaying, his grey-blue eyes watching her with an expression of quiet melancholy and something she couldn’t quite describe.

Isabella’s breath caught in her throat.

Something small and unfamiliar stirred in her chest as she looked at him—something she couldn’t name. She set the feeling aside without comment, her attention already narrowing on the blood.

———

Ethan saw her, and a quiet whisper escaped his lips, barely audible even to himself.

His heart slammed against his ribs with a force that had nothing to do with his injuries.

His vision dimmed as memories flooded in—quiet mornings, shared laughter, a promise neither of them had lived long enough to keep. He forced his breathing steady, forced his expression to remain unreadable, pouring every ounce of discipline he possessed into keeping the moment from showing on his face at all.

It wasn’t enough to stop the sound entirely.

His heartbeat thundered so loudly that, for one horrifying instant, he was certain the entire hall could hear it, perhaps even Isabella herself if she were listening closely enough.

She didn’t seem to notice.

Iris did.

Her violet eyes flicked toward Ethan, lingering there for half a second longer than necessary, before drifting toward her granddaughter and then back again, silently weighing the strange reaction she had just witnessed.

Looking at Ethan, the concern in Isabella’s eyes suddenly deepened.

"He’s injured," she said, the softness in her voice replaced by sudden urgency. "Grandmother, he’s bleeding. Treat him quickly."

Her composure slipped entirely as she spoke, not even pausing to consider why he was here at all. She pulled away from her grandmother and rushed toward him just as the strength left his legs.

She reached him before he could hit the floor, his weight collapsing against her shoulder. His dimming vision found her purple eyes one last time before he lost consciousness entirely, the blood loss and exhaustion finally claiming him.

Rune pressed close to Ethan’s side as the servants moved to lift him, refusing to be pushed back even when one of them tried to nudge him aside. He stayed pressed against him through the entire walk to the healer’s chambers, ears flat, eyes fixed on the boy’s pale face, never once falling behind.

Iris watched the entire exchange with faint amusement, only for that amusement to disappear as Duke Lucas Valerian finally arrived in the main hall and took in the scene before him.

"Mother... what’s happening? Who is that kid?"

"Don’t make a fuss, Lucas."

"What did you say? You vanish for years and return carrying a bleeding child, and I’m meant to make no fuss?"

Lucas took a step toward Ethan, reaching out as if to check the boy’s pulse himself. "Someone needs to actually look at—"

"I said don’t make a fuss." Iris moved between them without seeming to hurry at all.

"That’s not making a fuss, that’s basic decency, I’m trying to—"

"You’re wasting time talking instead of calling the healer."

Lucas opened his mouth again, thought better of it, and turned toward the hallway, muttering something under his breath about never getting a straight answer out of his own mother.

Iris raised her hand and gave a sharp smack to the top of Duke Valerian’s head.

"Ow—why are you hitting me right after you return? You should have just stayed holed up in your research."

"Stop talking and call the healer. Urgently. If anything happens to him, I’ll kill you myself."

Lucas froze.

"...You’re serious, aren’t you?"

"Dead serious."

"What—what are you even saying? Who is that kid?"

SMACK.

"Just go and bring a healer already."