“I know that, everybody knows that. That’s why all this is the way it is. Somebody killed them, the mighty descendants of gods, all of them, and when the other families ran away scared, the Court took over. The same events in every story. That’s what happened and there’s no changing it. The royals that your lot worship let the humans destroy the world. What sort of gods do you call that?”
He turned to continue on his march, but the same sensation as before passed through him, and in the blink of an eye, Anala was yards in front of him, her skin for a moment bathed in a green glow. He looked her up and down, partly admiring the way strength seemed to exude from her. It made her seem grander and older than she was, something that Will had never been able to master.
“Not all,” she said pointedly. “Marigalot and Acrio Avaric had six children, and everybody just accepted that they had all died with them. But they had an eldest son, their heir apparent, and he survived.”
“I never heard about that –,”
“Only circles close to the royal families like mine know it, but all they know is that he’s alive somewhere. The uprisings that the Avaric deaths caused let him disappear from sight and memory. For years, my uncle searched all over, and finally, he found a clue. A name, nothing more, a link to the prince in a hidden Caelbrich archive: Wilmina Crayol,”
Will shook his head. “No, that’s not – Wilmina wasn’t –,”
“Then, Uncle found something else after even more digging,” Anala continued. “A prison cohabitation form. Wilmina adopted a young boy who’d appeared out of nowhere in the system three days after the Avarics were murdered and the prince disappeared. Like the prince, this boy would have turned fourteen this past Seqædin. His name is Willow; just Willow.”