Primordial Heir: Nine Stars

Meanwhile, far from the quiet inn where Nero and Khione shared their peaceful evening, Elreth made her way through the outer city toward a destination known to very few.

She walked alone, her steps measured and calm, though her mind churned with the events of the past days. The battles. The ambush. The wolves. The strange, silent alliance forged with Khione in the heat of survival. So much had happened, so quickly.

But tonight was not for thinking about any of that.

She stopped before a tall, elegant gate, hidden between two ordinary buildings. A small, nearly invisible symbol was carved into the stone—the crest of the Samael clan, the burning phoenix. She pressed her palm against it, and the gate swung silently open.

Beyond lay a private villa, one of many owned by her mother across the continent. It was a place of refuge, of secrets, of moments stolen from the demands of royal life. Lush gardens surrounded it, their flowers pale silver in the fading light. Fountains whispered softly. The air was warm and fragrant.

Elreth walked up the stone path to the villa’s entrance. The door opened before she could knock.

And there stood the Empress.

She was tall and regal, a mature version of Elreth, though softer now, touched with silver at the temples. Her eyes, held warmth, wisdom, and the weight of ruling an empire. She wore simple robes, unadorned, a far cry from the magnificent gowns of court.

For a long moment, mother and daughter looked at each other.

Then Elreth moved, crossing the distance in two quick steps, and threw her arms around her mother. The Empress caught her, held her close, her hands running gently through Elreth’s hair.

No words were spoken. None were needed.

They stood like that for a long time, wrapped in each other’s arms, the silence saying everything that needed to be said. I missed you. I was worried. I’m here now. You’re safe.

Finally, the Empress pulled back slightly, her hands cupping her daughter’s face. She studied her—the new lines of weariness around her eyes, the small cut still healing on her cheek, the subtle changes that spoke of battles fought and survived.

Elreth looked back, seeing in her mother’s face the same love she had always known, steady and unwavering.

The Empress smiled. It was a small smile, gentle and private, the smile of a mother for her child, not the calculated expression of a ruler. She took Elreth’s hand and led her inside.

The villa was beautiful. Every room was designed for comfort and peace, with soft lighting, warm colors, and luxurious furnishings. The Empress led Elreth through the halls, past sitting rooms and libraries, to a wing of the house dedicated entirely to relaxation.

They began in the beauty parlor.

It was a bright, airy room with soft music playing from hidden speakers. Two comfortable chairs faced large mirrors. Shelves lined the walls, filled with jars and bottles containing every lotion, oil, and cream imaginable.

Two attendants waited there, skilled women who had served the Empress for years. They bowed deeply as mother and daughter entered, then set to work with quiet efficiency.

Elreth settled into one of the chairs, closing her eyes as warm, scented oil was worked into her scalp. Fingers massaged her temples, her neck, her shoulders, easing away the tension of days spent fighting and watching and waiting. Beside her, the Empress received the same treatment, her eyes closed, her expression peaceful.

They did not speak. The only sounds were the soft music and the occasional murmur of the attendants as they worked. But occasionally, Elreth would open her eyes and glance at her mother. And the Empress, as if sensing her gaze, would open her own eyes and meet them. A small smile would pass between them. Then they would close their eyes again, returning to the quiet pleasure of the moment.

After the massage, they moved to the sauna.

The room was warm and wooden, with a low bench and a pile of smooth stones in the corner. Water was poured over the stones, sending up a cloud of fragrant steam. The heat wrapped around them, deep and penetrating, soaking into muscles and bones.

Elreth leaned back against the warm wood, her skin pink from the heat, her hair damp and curling. Beside her, the Empress sat in the same comfortable silence, her eyes half-closed, a faint smile on her lips.

Time lost meaning in the sauna. There was only the warmth, the quiet, the presence of each other.

When they had enough, they moved to the jacuzzi.

The water was perfectly warm, bubbling gently around them. The room was dim, lit only by soft candles floating in glass bowls. The scent of lavender and something else, something clean and calming, filled the air.

Elreth floated, her eyes on the ceiling, watching the play of candlelight on the stone. Beside her, the Empress did the same. Their hands rested on the edge of the pool, close enough to touch if they chose. They didn’t. But the proximity was enough, the knowledge that the other was there.

After the jacuzzi, they wrapped themselves in soft robes and moved to a small sitting room. A fire crackled gently in the hearth. Tea was waiting, steam rising from a delicate pot.

They sat across from each other, cups in hand, the warmth of the fire painting their faces in gold.

And still, they did not speak.

But in the silence, a conversation was happening. Every glance, every small smile, every sip of tea was a word. I love you. I’m proud of you. I was afraid for you. I’m here now. I know. I know.

The Empress reached across and touched her daughter’s hand, just for a moment. Elreth’s fingers curled slightly, acknowledging the touch.

The fire crackled. The tea cooled. The night deepened outside.

When the hour grew late, they rose together and walked to a bedroom prepared for Elreth. The Empress paused at the door, looking at her daughter one last time. Then she leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead, long and gentle.

Elreth closed her eyes, receiving the blessing.

The Empress pulled back, smiled once more, and disappeared down the hall.

Elreth stood in the doorway for a long moment, watching her go. Then she turned and entered her room, the warmth of the evening still wrapped around her like a blanket.

No words had been spoken all evening. None had been needed.

Mother and daughter had shared something precious—a night of peace, of quiet, of simply being together. In the silence, they had said everything.