Wuthenya had guessed the exact same thing, it would either be Malrik or their father; Azeron. After all, the two of them were widely acknowledged as the strongest members of the Wargrave Ducal Household.
The Sinvairas wouldnât bother targeting someone weak like her, nor would they waste their efforts on some Elders or even the Great Elders. If they were to strike, they would aim to make it hurt, to carve a deep, unforgettable wound into the Wargrave name. They would seek out those whose loss would shake the very foundation of the household.
But before Wuthenya could voice her thoughts, Malrik continued speaking. "Or we could both be attacked simultaneously, crippling the power of the Wargrave in a single day."
His words made Wuthenyaâs thoughts pause. That scenario... she hadnât considered it before. When had anyone ever said that the Sinvaira would only target one person? There was no established pattern to their behavior.
In fact, no one even knew their precise number, only that there were at least five of them. Three had murdered her grandfather, the former Primarch, and two others had been sighted sporadically across various regions and eras over the past few decades.
With that many, they could easily split their strength and strike down the two greatest threats in a single coordinated assault. Then they would leave the remnants of the Wargrave clan to be slaughtered by the humans.
After all, there was no reality where the Emperor, the Dukes, and the major Empires wouldnât pounce the moment the Wargraveâs strongest were gone. The opportunity to seize Wargrave resources, territories, and secrets would be too tempting to pass up. The losses would be immense, and the betrayal inevitable.
"At the end of the day, itâs all speculation," Malrik said, cutting through the silence once more. "We donât truly know their course of action. For all we know, they might retreat and never show their faces again, not until we die on some random battlefield."
Yet deep down, Malrik didnât believe any plan the Sinvairas made would succeed. He cherished every member of his family, siblings, aunts, uncles, great-aunts, and great-uncles. Each one of them fell under the category of his loved ones. And Solaris, the being bound to him, made it impossible for threats to sneak past his awareness.
Once the Sinvairas made a plan, Malrik would already know about it long before they even carried it out. Such was the nature of Solarisâ abilities. Unlike others who relied on information networks, formations, or spy rings, Malrik needed no such tools.
Yet even as he trusted Solaris, Malrik acknowledged what he considered a strange loophole, or rather, an oddity in Solarisâ abilities. It wasnât a flaw. It was almost like Solaris could see the future, in its own way.
Wuthenya had been ambushed many times throughout her life. And every time, Solaris only informed Malrik if the danger would result in her death or irreversible injury. It never bothered to warn him about attacks she could survive or recover from.
But that raised the question, how did Solaris know? How could it distinguish between wounds that were temporary and those that were fatal? Could it really see the future? Could it analyze cause and effect so deeply that it could predict outcome on its own accord?
Malrik didnât know. He couldnât explain it. But he wasnât too concerned. In time, he believed he would understand it all.
âThey could still come after me again. I need to get stronger, and I need to do it faster,â Wuthenya thought as she walked beside her brother, her face calm but her mind racing.
âI canât keep relying on him. Heâs already saved me three times, and I havenât saved him even once.â
Malrik had indeed saved her twice, and though she was grateful, she wasnât fond of feeling like a helpless princess awaiting rescue from a noble knight. It wasnât her style. But she wasnât stupid enough to tell Malrik to stop either.
âOne day, Iâll be the one to save Malrik,â Wuthenya vowed silently. She didnât know when that day would come, but she believed it would. She believed she could.
She found herself imagining Malrikâs expression the day she finally saved him. That ridiculous smile he always wore, that smug grin that seemed to scream; "Iâm the best at everything I do", maybe it would vanish, even for a moment. Maybe sheâd get to see it replaced with real shock, maybe even awe.
The thought made her smile without realizing it.
"Why are you smiling? Are you looking forward to being attacked again?" Malrik asked, narrowing his eyes as he noticed her expression.
"Youâll understand in the future," Wuthenya answered cryptically, refusing to share her thoughts.
"Oh, using my own tactics against me, huh?" Malrik replied with a raised eyebrow.
Then suddenly, his head snapped to the side as though heâd sensed something.
Wuthenya immediately raised her guard, her stance shifting subtly as her body prepared to strike without hesitation. She couldnât sense whatever it was Malrik had noticed, but if her brother was reacting, then she needed to be ready.
"No need to be so tense," Malrik muttered. "Itâs your stupid boyfriend racing here."
Wuthenya rolled her eyes but remained on alert.
"You should break up with him," Malrik added coldly. "If I hadnât been here, youâd be dead. Heâd just be arriving now to rescue your corpse, assuming he could even fight Orvak for it."
Suddenly, a sonic boom shattered the sound barrier as a streak of forceful motion tore through the air. A figure moved with lethal speed, his steps shaking the very earth beneath him.
Within seconds, the man reached the ruined remains of the forest, its broken trees and scorched terrain now silent witnesses to the recent carnage. His face was stone-cold, like he could freeze the entire Crymora with a single glance. Then, he turned sharply as he sensed the one presence he was here for. With no hesitation, he blurred forward.
There she was, Wuthenya.
He moved to embrace her, but his sprint halted abruptly. His body froze mid-motion, just a few meters away from her, as though some invisible force had taken hold of him.
His gaze shifted instantly to the other figure standing beside Wuthenya.
He didnât need to be told who it was.
It was her brother.
The man who had sworn to make his life a living hell should he ever cause Wuthenya pain.
âWhat is this freak doing here? the man wondered as he stayed frozen.
"Itâs been a while, Stravos," Malrikâs voice echoed, calm but pointed, his smile tight and unreadable.
Yet that smile was not the warm one he wore for his siblings. It wasnât the smirk of camaraderie or affection.
No, it was the kind of smile a predator wore when it finally caught up to its prey.