The silence in the preparation room was no longer just quiet. It was broken, shattered by the name Marc had spoken.

"Alistair."

Lucian stared at his brother, his face a mask of crumbling certainty. He shook his head, a slow, disbelieving motion. "No. That's impossible."

He took a step back, his hand raking through his hair. "Our parents died. In the gate raid on Elysia. That's what we were told. That's what the records show. They're gone." His voice, usually so controlled, was starting to fray at the edges. This was a foundational truth of his life, a pillar of his grief, and Marc was saying it had never been real.

"Lucy spent years looking for any trace of him," Lucian continued, his words coming faster, sharper. "Anything. There was nothing. Because there was nothing to find. He died with our mother."

Marc didn't argue. He just stood there, his own massive frame looking somehow weary, holding the weight of the truth he'd witnessed. "I saw him, Lucian. I looked into his eyes. They're our eyes."

The simple, brutal statement finally broke through. Lucian's shoulders slumped. The fight drained out of him, leaving behind a hollowed-out confusion. He stumbled back until he hit the wall, sliding down it to sit on the floor, his head in his hands.

Evelyn was at his side in an instant, kneeling beside him, her hand a gentle pressure on his back. She didn't speak, just offered her presence.

Marc moved too, slower, his movements deliberate. He crouched in front of his brother, a solid, unmovable rock in the storm of Lucian's disbelief. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice a low rumble. "But he's alive. And he has her."

The room let them have that moment, the two brothers and the quiet support between them. The air was thick with the death of one story and the terrifying birth of another.

It was Reia who, after a respectful pause, cut through the emotion with her signature clinical precision. "Marc." Her voice was calm. "You said he mentioned revenge."

Marc nodded without looking away from Lucian. "Yeah. He said 'adventure and revenge.'"

From her perch on a console across the room, Vyn, who had been observing with her usual serene intensity, spoke. "Revenge for what?"

A soft, disdainful sniff came from her shoulder. Kaelis, the small dragon-like creature, flicked his tail. "Is it not obvious? Even to your limited perceptions?" His ancient, dry voice filled the space. "He speaks of the vengeance of the Ancients."

All eyes turned to him. Even Lucian looked up, his face pale.

Kaelis surveyed them with an air of profound boredom. "You speak of 'Aethels.' A quaint, modern label. In the time before your petty corporations and guilds, they were known as the Ancients. They were not merely a race. They were the architects of reality. The first and final word in the cosmos."

He shifted his weight, his scales catching the light. "And the other, younger races—your forebears—could not abide such a power existing. They feared it. Envied it. So, they did what small-minded creatures always do. They banded together. A great coalition of insects, stinging a giant to death."

The casual, brutal way he described it sent a chill through the room.

"It was not a war," Kaelis continued, his tone flat. "It was an extermination. A systematic, galactic genocide that scoured the Ancients from the universe. Or so the victors believed." He looked directly at Lucian and Marc. "It seems at least one bloodline survived. He went into hiding. Changed his name, I assume. Blended in. Bred with a human woman to dilute his signature further. He bided his time."

The pieces were falling into a horrifying mosaic. Alistair, an Ancient in hiding. Their mother, a human he had children with. His disappearance... not a death, but a strategic retreat.

"And now," Kaelis said, his gaze sweeping over them, "one of his offspring has come of age. The girl, Lucy. Her power has stirred. She has awakened the Old Blood within her. He felt it. A beacon in the silence. So, he came to collect her."

Silas, who had been trying to follow along, his brow furrowed, finally blurted out, "Wait. So if Lucy's an... Ancient... and you're all siblings..." His eyes went wide as dinner plates as he looked at Lucian and Marc. "Oh. Oh, wow."

The implication hung in the air, heavier than any ship.

Lucian and Marc were Aethels too. Ancients. Their power, the abilities that made them powerful, wasn't some random mutation or advanced training. It was their birthright. A legacy of a murdered people running through their veins, dormant, waiting.

Lucian slowly lifted his head, his eyes finding Marc's. The confusion was gone, replaced by a dawning, terrifying clarity. He thought of his Conceptual Sovereignty, the ability to rewrite reality itself with a thought. He thought of Marc's casual warping of space and time. These weren't just powers. They were echoes of what their people had once been.

"And the revenge?" Lucian asked, his voice hollow.

Kaelis let out a puff of smoke that smelled of ozone. "What else? To finish the war that was started. To burn the civilizations that rose from the ashes of his people. To reclaim a universe that he believes was stolen from him." He gave a slow, deliberate blink. "And he now has a daughter, awakened to her true potential, to help him do it."

The room absorbed this. The search for their sister was over. They had found her. But in finding her, they had discovered they were the sons of a ghost from a dead race, a ghost who wanted to bathe the galaxy in fire, and their sister was now standing at his side.

Lucian pushed himself to his feet, Evelyn's hand falling away. He walked to the large viewport that looked out on the silent, cloaked space around Earth. The familiar blue and white marble hung in the blackness, oblivious.

His entire life had been built on a lie. The grief for parents who might not even be dead. The desperate search for a sister who had been taken by the father they thought was a victim. His very identity was being rewritten in front of him.

He saw his reflection in the transparisteel—a man who commanded concepts, who led a team of the most powerful beings in the known galaxy. And now he was learning he was a prince of a dead empire, a living relic of a genocide.

Marc came to stand beside him, his presence a solid comfort. "Does it change anything?" he asked quietly.

Lucian was silent for a long time, watching the stars. Did it? The mission was the same: find Lucy, bring her home. But the context had shifted the ground beneath their feet. They weren't just rescuing their sister from a kidnapper anymore. They were potentially standing in the way of their own father's crusade of vengeance. A crusade that, given what they were, they might have a right to.

Finally, Lucian spoke, his voice low but firm, finding its anchor again in the heart of the storm.

"It changes everything," he said. "And nothing." He turned from the viewport to face his team. "Lucy is still our family. She's being used by a man filled with hate, a hate that might be justified, but that will burn the innocent along with the guilty. We can't let that happen."

His gaze swept over Reia, Silas, Evelyn, and Vyn. "The mission is the same. We find her. We bring her home." He then looked at Marc, a new, grim understanding passing between them. "But now we know what we're really walking into. We're not just fighting a man. We're walking into a war that's older than human history. And we're on the wrong side of our own bloodline."

He straightened up, the leader once more, the weight of his new reality settling on his shoulders not as a burden, but as a purpose.

"Reia, I want everything you can find on the 'Ancient War,' any fragment, any myth. Kaelis, you will tell us everything you know. Every weakness, every strength, every tactic they used." His eyes were hard. "If our father wants a war, he'll have one. But he's not getting our sister."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.