Chapter 7: Shadows of Truth, Veil of Lies
The grand doors of the Windgrace estate opened as the family carriage pulled in. The sun was dipping beyond the hilltops, casting golden rays across the mansion walls. Mickey, exhausted from the whirlwind of the blessings ceremony, leaned on his mother's shoulder. Despite the day's chaos, he felt warm, safe.
That night, the family dined together quietly, the air thick with unspoken questions. Caroline kept stealing glances at Mickey's palm, while Ken stared into his wine, deep in thought.
The following morning, a knock echoed through the halls.
The family butler bowed. "Sir Ken… the High Priest has arrived."
Ken stood quickly. "Bring him to the study."
Moments later, the robed priest entered the chamber, his face pale with unease. He bowed deeply before Ken, then looked toward the hallway where Mickey's footsteps faded.
"We need to talk… in private," the priest said.
Inside the study, the priest's tone turned grim.
"Ken," he said, lowering his hood, "your son… Mickey… the crest he received is unlike any I've ever witnessed in my lifetime."
Ken's eyes narrowed. "The Crest of Eternia. You said so yourself."
"Yes," the priest nodded. "It hasn't been seen in a thousand years. It is said to be tied to the immortals—beings who shaped the world before the gods governed it."
Ken folded his arms. "So, what does that mean for Mickey?"
The priest hesitated. "It means power beyond understanding. It means danger."
Ken's jaw tightened.
"Many will seek it—kingdoms, cults, hunters, even the corrupted nobles. They will try to either control your son... or kill him."
Ken's voice grew cold. "Then what do you suggest?"
The priest's eyes glowed with resolve. "I will lie."
Ken blinked.
"I will tell the public that Mickey received a powerless ancient crest, once used only by immortal souls. A decorative relic, with no practical use. This way, they will ignore him. Dismiss him."
Ken was silent for a moment. Then he slowly nodded. "Do it. Protect my son."
---
That Noon — The Grand Temple Square
A crowd had gathered again, whispers of the boy with the strange crest spreading like wildfire.
The High Priest stepped before them, holding up a sealed scroll.
"Citizens of Mecatopia! Yesterday, during the sacred blessings ceremony, a unique event occurred."
Murmurs rose.
"A young noble, Mickey Windgrace, received an ancient crest from the era of immortal souls. However—let it be known—this crest is non-magical and holds no combat potential. It is purely symbolic… and nothing more."
The crowd let out disappointed sighs.
"So it's useless?"
"Just a fancy birthmark…"
"I knew it was too good to be true."
Hidden among the crowd, a hooded figure grinned.
"But even symbolic relics… can be priceless in the right hands," the figure whispered before vanishing into the shadows.
---
Back at the Mansion
Mickey sat near the balcony, watching the wind blow gently through the trees. He felt strange.
His parents hadn't told him about the priest's warning.
He stared at the marking on his palm, still faintly glowing.
"Everyone thinks you're weak now…" Mickey whispered, "but you're not, are you?"
Just then, the crest shimmered softly.
A voice echoed faintly in his mind—
"When the time is right, child of fate… the seal shall break."
Mickey's eyes widened.
Something ancient was awakening.
And many forces—both good and evil—had started moving.