Chapter 173: Chapter 173

Mira’s POV

The walk wasn’t far—just beyond the eastern courtyard, past the line of forested trees where wildflowers still dared to bloom even in the chill of late season. But it was quiet.

Almost too quiet.

Kai didn’t speak for most of the way. He held my hand gently but offered no explanation for where we were going. I didn’t press him.

Not until I saw the building.

A weathered structure, older than any castle I’d ever seen. Ivy crawled across its stone walls, and the wood of the arched doors looked almost fossilized with age. Yet, it still stood—solid, sacred.

The past frozen in time.

“What is this place?” I asked.

Kai glanced at me with a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. “The first palace. The dwelling place of an old king—before the Blackwood clan was ever formed.”

My brows furrowed. “This was a king’s home?”

He nodded. “Long ago, before the clans were unified, there were villages. Twelve of them. Each ruled by its own leader. This one… this belonged to one of the oldest. A warrior king. Fierce, but just.”

I stepped closer, trailing my hand across the weather-worn stone. “So Blackwood wasn’t always a single clan?”

“No,” he replied. “It was built over time. Through battles, yes—but not all were blood-soaked conquests. Many were alliances. Mergers. The twelve villages joined under a single banner, not because they were crushed—but because they believed in the future that unity could bring.”

I stared at him. “And you kept their homes?”

“All twelve,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “We preserved each palace. We renovate them from time to time—not as museums, but as reminders. We honor the people who made us what we are. We don’t erase their history.”

That struck something deep in me.

Because for so long, I had felt like my history—my mother’s, my own—was erased, hidden, or shamed. But here, in this place that wasn’t even originally theirs, they had built legacy into every stone.

“And this place…” I asked quietly, “why now? Why bring me here?”

Kai pushed the heavy door open, and I followed him inside.

The interior was dim, but sunlight filtered through the tall, narrow windows. Dust floated in beams of golden light. The walls were covered in faded murals—scenes of wolves running beneath moons, of families feasting under starlight, of a kingdom built by strength and purpose.

Kai walked slowly, his fingers brushing the railing of a cracked staircase.

“I wanted you to see this a long time ago,” he said. “But time… distractions… war… we never made it.”

I watched him. “So why now?”

He looked at me then, eyes soft. “Because this is where we’ll hold the funeral gathering for the orphans.”

I paused. “Here?”

“Yes.”

I stepped deeper into the space, turning slowly in the center of the vast, open room. “It’s beautiful.”

He nodded. “They deserve that beauty. They deserve peace.”

I smiled faintly, but I knew he wasn’t just showing me this to talk about the orphans.

“You’re stalling,” I said gently.

His lips twitched. “Maybe.”

I turned toward him fully. “You don’t want me to go.”

“No,” he admitted. “But I know I can’t stop you.”

Silence passed between us.

Then I spoke again, quieter. “I love this place. I love the people. This clan gave me more than I ever thought I deserved. You, Damien, Rowan… even Lucian. You’ve all given me something no one else ever could.”

I swallowed. “But I have to go. Not to run. Not to leave you—but to find the parts of myself I never had the chance to know. My mother’s voice still lingers. I can’t ignore it. I can’t deny what I am.”

Kai stepped closer. “What if what you find changes you? What if you can’t come back?”

I reached for his hand. “Then I hope what you gave me… will be strong enough to lead me back.”

He stared at me for a long moment.

Then he pulled me into a hug.

Not fierce. Not desperate.

Just quiet. And full of acceptance.

We didn’t go back right away. Instead, we lingered.

Outside the old building, beneath the shade of twisted birch trees, we gathered branches. Dry ones from the forest floor. Twigs, logs, leaves. We built a small fire pit just outside the eastern wall of the palace.

Kai caught a rabbit with practiced ease while I prepared the pit. The skills I’d learned from survival under my father’s rules came back easily—arranging the stones, setting the right airflow, binding the sticks.

The fire caught quickly.

I watched the flames dance as Kai skinned and cleaned the rabbit. We roasted it slowly, the scent mingling with smoke and wild herbs. My stomach growled. Neither of us had eaten since morning.

We sat cross-legged beside the fire as dusk crept in.

He handed me a piece of meat wrapped in cloth. I bit into it, grateful for the warmth.

Then, the stories began.

“Did I ever tell you,” he said between chews, “that Rowan once tried to jump from the west tower to prove he could fly?”

I choked on my bite. “He what?!”

Kai laughed. “He was seven. Convinced he had wings. Damien and I found him up there, yelling at the wind.”

“What happened?”

“He broke his arm and still insisted it was just a bad wind current.”

I burst into laughter, clutching my stomach.

Kai smirked. “He still hates birds because of it.”

We traded stories until the fire burned low. I told him about the time I snuck out of my father’s estate to sleep under the stars, only to be dragged back by guards in the middle of the night. About how I used to read spellbooks hidden in false walls. About how I used to dream of being anything but what I was raised to be.

“You’ve always been more than what they saw,” Kai said softly.

I met his gaze, warmed by the firelight. “And you helped me see it.”

We cleaned up afterward. Packed the tools. Doused the fire. Left the woods quiet again.

The walk back was slower. Neither of us spoke much. We didn’t need to.

As we reached the outer halls of the castle, the warmth in my chest began to fade.

Because there he was.

Rowan.

Standing near the corridor that led to the war room, cloak thrown over his shoulder, head turned as if he’d been waiting.

Our eyes met.

I stopped walking.

But he didn’t.

He turned sharply and walked the other way without a word.