Page 116 of Unveiled

Connor’s eyes narrowed. “The first Valours.”

“Yes.” Xiathen approached the table and began unwrapping the violet cloth.

They leaned forward, then froze. Because what the cloth revealed wasn’t a book or a scroll. Nothing made of paper. It was a stone tablet, black as obsidian, small enough to hold but heavy as fate. It was carved with two sigils: one of the Council, and one that looked disturbingly like the mark now emblazoned on them both.

“What the hell is that?” Adrian asked.

Xiathen’s voice lowered to a reverent hush. “The Chronicle of the First Two. The only surviving record of the Valours’ origins. Hidden from the Council. Hidden from kings. Hidden from all but The Chronicler, one of the most senior members of the Council.”

Connor scoffed. “Why hide it from kings?”

Xiathen’s eyes glinted. “Because kings once died for knowing it.”

Adrian inhaled sharply. “Why?”

“Because the Council fears what the Chronicle reveals.” Xiathen laid the stone on the table. “Fear is a powerful teacher.”

Connor leaned over the tablet. “Then teach us.”

Xiathen nodded once and began. “Long before clans, before werewolves, before magic fled the open world, there were two realms. One,” he gestured toward the sigil on the left, “was the Mortal Plane. Your Earth. Young, unpredictable, vibrant.”

“And the second?” Adrian prompted.

Xiathen touched the sigil on the right. “The Veiled Realm. Home to beings of thought, magic, and timelessness. The Council was not yet a council then. Merely watchers.”

Connor snorted. “Watching what?”

Xiathen smiled sadly. “The First Two.”

Adrian’s pulse quickened. “The first Valours.”

“Yes,” Xiathen said. “But they were not only born of clans. They were not only leaders. Or only warriors.”

Connor frowned. “Then what were he?”

Xiathen turned the tablet so the firelight caught the etching of two figures. One taller, one slighter, both standing on a cliff while the world cracked open beneath him. “They were lovers.”

Silence hit like a punch.

Adrian blinked. “What?”

Connor went rigid beside him.

“The First Two,” Xiathen repeated, “were not appointed. They were not chosen by ritual. They were chosen by each other. A bond so powerful the Veil felt it. A bond that stabilised both realms. A bond that kept magic from collapsing the Mortal Plane entirely.”

Adrian felt his throat tighten. “Their connection protected the world?”

Xiathen nodded. “They held the fault lines together by their resonance. By love, not magic. But the Council feared unpredictability. They feared what they could not author.”

Connor’s eyes darkened. “So they tried to control it.”

“Yes. They studied the bond. Experimented. Sought to claim the power of the First Two without allowing the messy, uncontrollable force that created it.”

“Emotion,” Adrian said softly.

“Emotion,” Xiathen confirmed. “True resonance. Passion. Devotion. Sorrow. Loyalty.” A pause. “And rage.”

Adrian’s wolf paced under his skin. “What happened to them?” he asked.