Chapter 8 008

The name Hask had given him was Verana Draethor.

Korvian's aunt. His father's younger sister. The woman who had attended his mother's funeral with dry eyes and a small, satisfied smile she hadn't bothered to hide.

He had suspected Sylthar. He had prepared for Sylthar. Verana was a different problem entirely — older, more patient, and far more embedded in the Draethor family's internal architecture than his half-brother would ever be. Sylthar wanted Korvian gone for pride. Verana wanted him gone for strategy.

Which meant the threat was significantly more serious than he had calculated.

Mirelle watched his face carefully as they walked back through the service lanes toward the scooter. She had learned in the past twenty-four hours that Korvian's silences were not empty. They were working.

"It wasn't Sylthar," she said.

"No."

"Someone higher."

He glanced at her. "What makes you say that?"

"Because Sylthar would have gloated by now. He would have found a way to make sure you knew it was him." She paused. "Whoever this is, they didn't want to be identified. That means they're careful. And careful people have more than one plan."

Korvian looked at her for a moment. "You're right."

Mirelle had spent years navigating the quiet brutality of her stepmother's household. She understood how power moved through families — not through loud confrontations but through carefully arranged circumstances that left the target with nowhere clean to stand.

They reached the scooter. Korvian sat still for a moment before starting it.

[Ding!]

[The God of Eternal Moments issues an update to the 48-hour warning:]

[First critical move has been made — bridge ambush, neutralized. Second critical move is now in motion. Nature: professional and reputational. Target: your standing with Valthor Draethor. Estimated impact window: within 24 hours.]

Korvian read it twice. Reputational. That meant documents, testimony, or fabricated evidence delivered directly to his father. Verana was not coming at him physically again — at least not yet. She was going to use Valthor as the weapon instead.

He thought about what she might have. A falsified financial record. A staged photograph. A carefully worded account from someone Valthor trusted. Any of those would be enough. Valthor already believed Korvian was worthless. It would take almost nothing to push him from tolerance to action.

And action from Valthor Draethor meant formal disinheritance. Removal from any record. Erasure.

Korvian started the scooter.

"We're going to the Draethor main tower," he said.

Mirelle climbed on without hesitation. "What's the plan?"

"I need to get there before Verana does."

The Draethor tower occupied the northeastern corner of Velkaryn City's financial district — forty-two floors of black glass and cold authority that had defined the city's skyline for three generations. Korvian had not set foot inside it in over two years. The last time, he had been summoned to stand in his father's office and receive a fifteen-minute lecture on the embarrassment of mediocrity while Sylthar watched from the corner with carefully arranged concern.

The lobby security recognized him immediately. He could see the calculation move across the head guard's face — acknowledge him or turn him away. The Void Card settled it before Korvian had to say a word.

They were escorted to the executive elevator without further discussion.

On the thirty-eighth floor, Valthor Draethor's personal assistant, a thin precise man named Eldric, rose from his desk with visible alarm.

"Mr. Draethor — the younger — you don't have an appointment. Your father is currently—"

"Tell him Korvian is here and that he needs five minutes before he receives a visit from Aunt Verana." Korvian kept his voice completely level. "Tell him exactly those words."

Eldric hesitated, then disappeared behind the heavy office doors.

Mirelle stood beside Korvian in the waiting area, her posture composed. She said nothing, which was exactly right.

Forty seconds later, Eldric reappeared. His expression had shifted into something carefully unreadable.

"Mr. Valthor will see you now."

The office was exactly as Korvian remembered. Vast, deliberately austere, designed to make visitors feel the full weight of the man behind the desk. Valthor Draethor was sixty-one years old, iron-haired, with the particular stillness of someone who had not been surprised by anything in a very long time.

He looked at Korvian the way he always looked at him. Measuring. Dismissing. Waiting for confirmation of what he already believed.

"You have five minutes," Valthor said. "Use them."

Korvian sat down without being invited to. He watched his father's eyes register the small defiance and file it away.

"Verana hired men to kill me last night," Korvian said. "Ten of them. At the abandoned bridge on the Shadewood border. She's now preparing a second move against my reputation, aimed at you. It will arrive within the next twenty-four hours and it will be fabricated."

The office was very quiet.

Valthor's expression did not change. "That is a significant accusation."

"Yes."

"You have evidence."

Korvian placed Hask's recorded confession on the desk. He had transferred the audio to his phone and printed a transcription at a convenience store on the way over — a detail he had planned three blocks from the harbor.

Valthor looked at the document without touching it. "Drevon Hask is a known criminal. His testimony is easily disputed."

"I know," Korvian said. "Which is why I'm here now, before Verana arrives, so that when her evidence appears you already have context for why it exists."

[Ding!]

[Foresight Glimpse activated — cost: 120 Destiny Shards deducted.]

[Destiny Shards remaining: 1,230]

In the brief flash of foresight, Korvian saw his father's hand reach slowly toward the document and pick it up.

He waited.

Valthor reached out slowly and picked up the document.

He read it without expression. The clock on the wall marked the silence in quiet intervals. When he finished, he set it down and looked at his eldest son with an expression that was, for the first time in Korvian's memory, genuinely unreadable.

"Why come to me?" Valthor asked. "You could have used this to protect yourself without involving me."

"Because whatever you think of me," Korvian said quietly, "Verana's real target is not me. I'm just the easiest lever. If she's willing to arrange a murder within the family, it means she's already decided she wants something that belongs to you."

The silence that followed was different from the ones before it.

Valthor said nothing. But he did not dismiss him.

[Ding!]

[Total Essence Points: 2,275 / 2,500]

[The Twin Sovereigns of Retribution observe: you chose intelligence over confrontation. They respect this.]

[The Goddess of Boundless Prosperity sends a message:]

"Even the coldest soil can be turned, Korvian. You planted something in that room today. Whether it grows depends on what comes next."

Outside the window, Velkaryn City stretched in every direction, indifferent and glittering.

Korvian stood, straightened his jacket, and looked at his father one last time.

"I'll leave the document with you," he said. "Do with it what you think is right."

He walked out without waiting for a response. Mirelle fell into step beside him as they reached the elevator. She said nothing until the doors closed.

"How did it go?" she asked.

Korvian exhaled slowly.

"Better than the last ten years," he said. "Not as well as tomorrow will."