Page 36 of Empire of Wrath and Ruin
“Your true name?”
“Tarshi Redaxus.”
“Your father’s name?”
I shook my head. “I do not know my father. My mother told me he was a Talfen warrior, killed when I was young. I have very few memories of him, but she told me he was a good man.”
Aytara took a deep breath.
“Your mother was right. Sayven was a good man.” Taveth’s eyes snapped back around to my face at her words, and she nodded.
“It is true, Taveth. I have not been completely honest with you. Tarshi is indeed your brother. Your twin brother.”
The world stopped.
Twin brother. The words echoed in my mind, but they made no sense. I had no family, no brothers or sisters. My mother had told me my father was dead, killed by Imperial soldiers when I was too young to remember. There had never been any mention of a twin, of any siblings at all.
"That's impossible," I said, but even as I spoke, I felt something shift inside me, like a puzzle piece clicking into place. The dreams, the strange sense of recognition when I looked at this man, the way my heart had clenched when I first saw him—maybe it wasn't impossible after all.
“You never told me of a brother,” said Taveth, his creepy white eyes still fixed on mine.
"I lied," Aytara said simply. "To protect you both."
I felt my world tilting on its axis. "Protect us from what?"
Aytara looked between Taveth and me, her expression soft with old grief. "Your father was Sayven Nemele, one of our greatest mages. Your mother was an Imperial woman he met during a reconnaissance mission near the border. They fell in love, despite the impossibility of their situation."
I tried to process this, but it felt like trying to hold water in my hands. My father had a name. A real name, not just the phantom I had imagined all these years.
"When your mother became pregnant," Aytara continued, "Sayven tried to convince her to come here, to safety. But she was terrified of leaving everything she knew, afraid of how our people might treat an Imperial. They compromised—they would move to a Talfen settlement near the border, somewhere they could raise their children in relative safety."
"Children," I whispered. "Plural."
"Twins," Aytara confirmed. "Born within minutes of each other. For the first few years, you lived together as a family. Sayven would visit when he could, bringing supplies and news from the war front."
I tried to remember, searched my earliest memories for any trace of this other life. There were fragments—a man's voice singing lullabies, strong hands lifting me up, the sense of not being alone. I had always assumed these were fantasies, the desperate imaginings of a child who wanted a father.
"What changed?" Sirrax asked.
“Taveth started manifesting shadow magic. At age five, it became obvious that he had inherited your father's abilities. The Empire was hunting down anyone with shadow magic," Aytara said. "Killing them, their families, anyone suspected of harbouring them. Sayven had no choice but to bring Taveth here, to the safety of the hidden city."
"But why didn't they bring me too?" The question tore out of me before I could stop it. "Why was I left behind?"
"Because you showed no signs of the magic," Aytara said gently. "And because your mother refused to leave. She was too afraid, too attached to the life she knew. The plan was for it to be temporary—Sayven would take Taveth to safety, then return for you and your mother once things settled."
"But things never settled," Taveth said.
"No," Aytara said quietly. "They didn't. And then..." She paused, as if the next words were difficult to say. "Then your father succumbed to the shadow madness."
"What do you mean?" I asked, though part of me already knew I didn't want the answer.
"The shadow magic consumes us," Taveth said, his voice matter-of-fact in a way that somehow made it worse. "Slowly, inevitably, it burns away everything that makes us human. Some last longer than others, but in the end, we all fall to madness. Our father lasted longer than most, but when he finally broke..."
He trailed off, but I could see the pain in his pale eyes. This was personal for him, raw.
"He's alive?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
"Yes," Aytara said. "In the care chambers below, with the other martyrs who have given their minds to protect our people. When it happened, when he... snapped... I went to your mother. To bring her the news, to see if she and you wanted to come here for protection."
