Ancestral Lineage - Chapter 483

Capítulo 483: The Order of Voriel (2)

Jerry and Thomas walked towards the main hall of the Kael’Dri estate, where most of the family was gathered. They didn’t want to break the news to Ethan, but it wouldn’t be bad if others knew.

Besides, they were the Kings of the Empire, each ruling a specific and important part of the Empire.

The sound of merry laughter, even after the episode with Thanato,s drifted into their ears as they got close. A small smile drew on Jerry’s lips. Jerry, who was known to be the coldest of the family.

“Family sure is nice, huh…” Thomas commented with a smile after noticing the smile on his elder brother’s face.

“Don’t rub it in…” Jerry replied with a scowl as he pushed on the door to the hall.

“Oh… Uncles Jerry and Thomas are here!” Delphina screamed in joy as she rushed for a hug from Jerry, who gave it to her.

She totally and completely ignored Thomas.

“Don’t worry, Unc. Your time will come… probably,” Devon said as he patted his uncle on the shoulder.

“Where did you even come from?” Thomas asked with a scowl.

“I am everywhere….” Devon spoke in a mysterious tone that almost sent shivers down the spine of the veteran assassin.

Jerry and Thomas perfectly blended in, having a good time themselves, though Jerry’s gaze turned distant sometimes.

“Relax, bro… she will join us soon,” Thomas said for the fifth time. Jerry was in love, and the woman was none other than Kira, one of the Kings. Ironically, she was called Kira King.

“I’m just worried, with the current threat…” Jerry said with a tired exhale.

“So, something really did happen.” A voice sounded from behind them, and they turned to see Lamair standing there with a curious expression. His hair was tied up in a ponytail, and he wore more relaxed clothes.

“It’s not…” Jerry started, but Thomas spoke before he could finish, while giving him a look that said, “Just come clean!”

“Some assassins tried to attack the estate. They were targeting the twins, and it would have worked if everything had gone according to their plan.”

“Let’s talk in a more secure place. We can’t ruin the mood here…” Lamair said as he beckoned them to follow him. On the way, he notified Trevor and Reginald through their Ancestor link.

They were very quick and discreet, so almost no one except Zark and Madeleine noticed them.

They moved without ceremony, slipping through a side passage that only blooded members of the Kael’Dri family even remembered existed. Sound thinned as they went deeper, laughter and music fading into a distant echo, like a dream someone else was having.

Lamair stopped before a circular chamber lined with old sigils. No furniture. No windows. Just a single crystalline pillar in the center, humming softly as it filtered out everything: spies, magic, fate, and nosy ancestors.

“This will do,” Lamair said, tapping the pillar once.

The hum deepened. The air thickened.

Trevor arrived first, stepping out of a fold in space like he’d merely taken a shortcut through a bad idea. Reginald followed a heartbeat later, his expression already sharp, already irritated at being pulled away from whatever he’d been doing.

“Alright,” Trevor said, crossing his arms. “This feels like the kind of meeting that ruins moods. Who died?”

“No one important,” Thomas muttered.

Jerry ignored him and looked around. “Where’s Ethan?”

Trevor sighed. “Castle wing. He and the empresses are knee-deep in imperial nonsense. Invitations, blessings, bloodline confirmations, celestial signatures, the fun stuff only they’re allowed to touch.”

Reginald snorted. “He hasn’t slept.”

“That tracks,” Jerry said quietly.

Lamair studied Jerry’s face, then Thomas’, then Trevor’s. His relaxed posture hadn’t changed, but something in his eyes had sharpened, like a blade drawn just enough to remind everyone it was there.

“Alright,” Lamair said. “Let’s stop dancing around it.”

Jerry nodded once. The humor drained from him completely, leaving behind the King who ruled half an empire and had buried more enemies than most people had met.

“We were tested,” Jerry began. “An assassin cell infiltrated the outer estate layers. Professional, disciplined, but deliberately underpowered.”

“Bait,” Trevor said flatly.

“Exactly,” Jerry continued. “They weren’t meant to succeed. They were meant to fail and report.”

Reginald’s jaw tightened. “Report to whom?”

Thomas exhaled. “The Order of Voriel.”

The temperature in the chamber dropped, not physically, but existentially. The kind of cold that made the soul hunch its shoulders.

Trevor’s eyes narrowed. “The Gravebinder.”

Jerry nodded. “A god of Death. Not Primordial, but far from minor. Organized. Patient. The kind who doesn’t swing unless he’s sure the board is set.”

Lamair listened in silence, head slightly bowed, fingers loosely clasped behind his back.

“They were aiming for the twins,” Jerry added. “Not to kill. To see what would happen if they tried.”

Reginald swore under his breath. “Coward.”

“No,” Lamair said calmly. “Smart.”

All eyes turned to him.

Jerry finished, “The cell leaders were left alive on purpose. They confirmed it. This wasn’t an attack. It was a greeting.”

Silence stretched.

Then Lamair laughed.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t manic. It was a low, sharp sound, edged with something ancient and ugly. The sigils along the walls flickered in response, reacting to the shift in his aura.

“So,” Lamair said, lifting his head. His eyes glowed faintly, a deep, sovereign purple. “He decided to move, huh?”

Trevor felt it then, the pressure behind Lamair’s words. Not rage exactly. Something colder. More deliberate.

“Figures,” Lamair continued. “I was wondering how long he’d pretend not to notice me preparing to walk into his backyard.”

Jerry frowned. “You know him.”

“I know of him,” Lamair corrected. “Voriel is the one who confronted Rhask and me during his awakening ritual. He threatened us. I figured out that he’s one of the cowardly gods who just stay in graves, but try to be powerful in where they aren’t allowed.”

Reginald crossed his arms. “Sounds like someone who won’t take kindly to you.”

Lamair smiled, but there was no humor in it now. “No. He won’t.”

Trevor shifted. “Should we call Ethan?”

Lamair shook his head. “Not yet. Let him finish what he’s doing. The naming ceremony matters. Faith matters. Stability matters.”

Jerry studied him. “And you?”

“I’ll adjust my preparations,” Lamair said simply. “If Voriel wants to watch, then I’ll give him something worth choking on. He might be a god, but we are Ancestors. A position above godhood. Besides, we don’t want a berserk Ethan. And this time, I mean it.”

The crystalline pillar pulsed once, harder this time, as if in uneasy agreement.

Outside the chamber, the empire continued to celebrate, lanterns drifting, children laughing, a world blissfully unaware that gods were beginning to move their pieces again.

And deep below all of it, somewhere beyond graves and titles, Death listened.

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