“This Power?” Will guessed.
Percival nodded. “Many still wonder what it is exactly. It could be many things, and nobody has seen it who is not dead or sworn to secrecy. But when I was a boy, my father Abar lent me secrets; one told of something deep in the Vaults of Graim with a name that could not be spoken. It was a magick unused and kept safe in case a foe like that of the Days of Darkness ever came again. When I assumed my father’s position seventeen years ago, I became aware that it existed, and after so long, the Incarnate were planning to use it, for reasons still, I do not know. Yet whatever it was, protecting it was more important than anything, but it would be difficult. Many believed in it, and sought it out, and of all the families, consorts and serfs, only one stepped forward to protect it,”
“Your father, Will,” said Anala. “Acrio.”
Will had wondered if hearing the name would have triggered something, a feeling of loss to the man bearing it, or at least a memory. But he felt nothing; the name was as distant as a word in another language.
“Those who believed in the Power and wanted it out of royal hands would have tried to claim it once it left Graim,” Percival continued to say. “To protect both it and your family, you were sent into hiding, though I use the word lightly. All but a few records of you were concealed or erased, belongings that could be used to track your essence destroyed, toys, clothes, photographs. You were all to go so that there could be neither ransom nor conspiracy. Whilst you were almost a man, your name and face were forgotten; it was as if you had never been. It was a year before you were found.”