Free Web NovelChapter 558: Chapter 558
After a moment, he asked, "What was the daughter like afterward? What did the ritual do to her?"
Seeing how invested he was in learning about their history, she chose to further indulge his curiosity.
"When she came down from the mountain, her eyes carried a strange ember glow and her skin was almost hot to the touch. Heat affected her differently than it affected ordinary people. She could walk through fire and not get burned. The flames she produced burned hotter than ordinary fire and were almost impossible to put out."
The wings that occasionally surfaced among Silhara descendants were also part of that inheritance. Nythera’s essence never expressed itself the same way in every generation, and not every member of the bloodline manifested all of it. Some inherited stronger flames. Some developed extraordinary resistance to heat. A few manifested draconic wings. But all of it traced back to the same source. Nythera.
The fire burning in his hands wasn’t just power. It was part of a long history. A remnant of an ancient dragon whose essence still flowed through the Silhara line till this day, thousands of years after its death.
He glanced briefly at her visible wings without comment. It was yet another manifestation of Nythera’s essence.
House Silhara spent the generations after the Beast Age learning how to use what Vesper had given them. During the Chaos Wars that followed, they weren’t the wealthiest house, nor were they the most politically sophisticated. They earned their ducal seat because they were effective.
They cleared battlefields that no one else could clear. They broke sieges that had dragged on for years. They ended campaigns that other commanders considered unwinnable. The other noble houses learned very quickly that having House Silhara as an enemy was a problem and generally not worth the hassle.
Over time, House Silhara became something harder to categorize as simply ruthless. The fire they controlled made people focus on their fighting prowess, but House Silhara had also produced scholars, administrators, and tacticians alongside its pyromancers.
They had a reputation for being fiercely brutal and it took less than four generations after the Chaos Wars to develop because the first few Silhara dukes had not yet figured out that terror was a useful tool in wartime and a liability in peacetime.
Morana suspected he understood the distinction better than most, as he was quite familiar with war and all that came with it.
"My father used to talk about that often. He was the one who taught me that fire is something to understand rather than simply use. He believed knowing the origin of an ability changes how you relate to it." She sounded oddly melancholic whenever she spoke about her father. Still carrying the wound of losing him so cruelly, despite the decades that had passed since his death. "He made me learn the full history of Vesper and Nythera before he ever showed me the first technique for controlling fire. I remember being annoyed by it at the time. I wanted to learn how to use the ability, and instead he spent weeks teaching me history. But he insisted it mattered and he was correct."
Something she said earlier caught his attention. "If the fire is resistant to ordinary methods of extinguishing it, does that mean it can only be put out by the person wielding it?"
Morana nodded.
"Yes. That’s also why it’s so important to learn proper control. Once the fire leaves your hands, it doesn’t respond to water or standard countermeasures the way ordinary flames do. It has to be recalled or extinguished by the source.
If a Silhara loses control of their fire, the problem doesn’t simply solve itself because someone dumped enough water on it.
The fire no longer seemed like a simple useful ability. It was something more dangerous than he had initially assumed. Something that if not properly controlled, could destroy everything in its path.
After a few moments, he asked one final question. "Does the ability skip generations, or does every Silhara descendant carry it?"
"It doesn’t skip generations exactly," Morana replied. "But it doesn’t always surface on its own. In some descendants, it has to be drawn out. In others, it awakens naturally. I wasn’t entirely sure you possessed it at all. You’re only half demon, after all. Unawakened fire abilities can remain completely dormant for an entire lifetime.
Ragnar nodded once. "We should continue."
Morana inclined her head.
The lesson resumed from where they left off.
They spent the rest of the morning working on several exercises and techniques.
The difference after their conversation was noticeable.
By the time the lesson neared its end, he managed to hold the flame perfectly stable for a long period of time and for the first time that morning, there was the faintest hint of satisfaction in his expression.
It was gone almost immediately. After another moment, he extinguished the flames in his palms. It was as easy as breathing.
When the lesson was over, he gathered his things and turned toward the palace main entrance. frёewebnoѵēl.com
"I’ll be here tomorrow morning." The statement was simple and matter-of-fact.
Merely an assumption that their next lesson was already decided, as he had already started looking forward to the time they spent together each morning.
Morana found herself smiling. "Very well then."
Ragnar gave her a nod before turning and walking away.
She watched him disappear and as she remained where she was, the memory came unexpectedly. Memories of her father regaling her with old stories of ancient times when the beasts still ruled Innermost, long before the arrival of The seven ruling houses.
The next lesson was never treated as a possibility, but as a certainty. There would always be another lesson the following day, and the day after that. Neither of them seemed capable of imagining a future in which those lessons would simply stop.
After his death, the sudden absence of it was one of the things she found hardest to bear.
Sometimes she thought Ragnar reminded her of her father. In moments like these and it always left a bittersweet feeling in her heart. One touched equally by fondness and loss.
After a while, she left the courtyard as well.
