By the time Livius emerged from the Origin Vault and made his way back to the royal living quarters, the sun was beginning to set, casting long, bloody streaks across the palace walls. He found Cian in the library, the clerk having moved his operations there to be closer to the ancient records.
Vaelin was there too, sitting in a wheelchair near the fireplace. The old record keeper looked even more fragile than before, his skin like parchment stretched over bone. When he saw Livius, his eyes widened, and he struggled to sit up.
"You've been to the valley," Vaelin whispered, his voice trembling. "I can smell the silver on you. It smells like frost and old stars."
Livius sat opposite him, ignoring the pile of urgent reports Cian was trying to hand him. "The Silver Dragons didn't just die, Vaelin. They were harvested. My father's line... they are parasites."
Vaelin nodded slowly. "The 'Divine Right' of Argentine is a lie written in the blood of the innocent. They needed the Silver blood to stabilize the Golden fire. Without it, the fire would have consumed them long ago. You are the first one who can see both sides of the coin, Livius. But the coin is currently being tossed, and I fear how it will land."
Cian cleared his throat, sensing the heavy atmosphere. "While we are discussing the philosophy of the bloodline, the Eastern Khaganate has officially mobilized their 'Beast-Rider' vanguard. They are claiming that General Batu was abducted by 'dark sorcery' and that the Argentine Empire has broken the sacred laws of diplomacy."
Livius turned his gaze to Cian. The golden-silver swirl in his eyes had settled into a steady, intense amber, but the coldness behind them was new. "They want a war? After what happened to the Southern Fleet?"
"They believe the fleet was a fluke," Cian explained. "They think you used a one-time artifact or a forbidden ritual that left you weakened. The Khan is a man who respects only strength and numbers. He has fifty thousand riders and a hundred 'Earth-Drakes'—beasts that can tunnel under walls and shatter foundations."
Livius stood, walking to the window. He looked down at the city, where the lights were beginning to flicker on. He saw the families, the children, the workers—the people who had no idea that their lives were being debated by men in high towers.
"The Khan thinks his beasts are a threat," Livius said, his voice dropping into that low, draconic resonance. "He's forgotten that the Silver Dragons were the ones who sang the beasts to sleep in the first place. Cian, prepare the 'Specter's Eye.' We aren't going to meet the Khaganate on a battlefield."
"Where are we going, then?" Cian asked, his pen poised over a fresh scroll.
"We're going to the heart of the Steppes," Livius replied. "I'm going to meet the Earth-Drakes personally. And then, I'm going to show the Khan that his army doesn't belong to him anymore. It belongs to the Ghost."
Livius walked to the door, pausing for a moment to look at Vaelin. "Keep the portrait safe, Vaelin. I want the world to see what a King looks like when he's finished being a Ghost."
As Livius left the room, the temperature in the library dropped, and a thin layer of frost began to form on the edges of the maps. The "Silent Reign" was over. The "Reclamation" had begun.