The Archduke's Songbird-Chapter 278: The Heretics

Jerrick and William stood in the dimly lit study, the air between them thick with unresolved tension. The flicker of the hearth cast dancing shadows on the stone walls, their faces partially obscured in the gloom.

William leaned back in his chair, his eyes searching Jerrick’s face for a clue to his unspoken thoughts. After a beat, he decided to break the silence.

"What about Imogen?" William asked casually, though his gaze sharpened as he observed his brother’s reaction. Jerrick’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening imperceptibly.

"There’s not much to say," Jerrick finally replied, his voice rough. "Jessamyn ended her life abruptly. It felt too calculated, too sudden."

William raised an eyebrow at this, surprised by Jerrick’s lingering doubts. "You think Jessamyn did it for a reason beyond just protecting herself?"

Jerrick’s eyes narrowed as he recalled the strange details leading up to Imogen’s death. "I did some research afterward," he said, his voice low. "Imogen had rambled about Fenrir and other nonsensical things before the end. It got me thinking."

"Fenrir?" William echoed, his brows knitting in confusion.

Jerrick nodded grimly. "In the oldest texts I found, there are mentions of heretics—followers of an ancient lore who rejected Levana and Hyperion as false gods. They believed in an entity they believed to be one true god and Fenrir was one of his sons."

William leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. "Heretics? What did they believe about Fenrir?"

"There weren’t many details—most records of them were destroyed. But what little I found said that these heretics believed the Theodulf family descended from this Fenrir as he could transform into a wolf. In their lore, Fenrir is supposed to father two sons, cursed to forever chase the sun and the moon. Once that chase ends, the sons are destined to rise against the god-emperor and kill him."

William’s eyes darkened with realization. "The sun and the moon... The Theodulf family has never had two sons at the same time until..."

Jerrick exhaled, his breath heavy with the weight of buried knowledge. "Until now. The heretics thought Brennan, our ancestor, was Fenrir himself, and they sought to end his line to prevent the prophecy. They believed they succeeded—our ancestors assumed those heretics died out. But their beliefs seem to have survived, and now those ideas have gained power again."

Silence fell between them as the gravity of Jerrick’s words settled. William’s thoughts spun, trying to piece together the implications. "Jessamyn is the moon’s daughter. And Elena... Her name, in the old tongue, can be loosely translated to ’the sun.’ Could this really be mere coincidence?"

Jerrick’s gaze turned sharp. "Do you actually believe in the heretics’ lore? Or are you just trying to find a pattern in the madness?"

William didn’t answer immediately. The conviction in his brother’s voice made him question everything. "If those heretics truly believed our mother was Fenrir, and if they are the Council of Leocadia, then it explains a lot. But Jerrick, you know how dangerous this line of thought is. We can’t afford to let paranoia drive us."

Jerrick’s eyes darkened with suspicion. "Speaking of our mother, have you received any information from her lately? Any word or contact?"

William stiffened slightly, knowing full well how Jerrick’s trust could waver. "No, nothing," he answered quickly, perhaps too quickly.

Jerrick’s voice dropped to a cold, serious tone. "Should I place you under surveillance, brother? I need to be sure, especially with what’s happening."

William’s gaze locked onto Jerrick’s, the question hanging between them like a drawn sword. "Why this sudden mistrust? What’s happened?"

"Our mother manipulated Imogen into killing Edward. And now she’s desperate for Jessamyn’s child to be born," Jerrick explained, his voice barely containing his frustration. "She has plans—plans that involve Jessamyn, our family, and this cursed prophecy. We can’t take any chances."

William didn’t know whether to scoff or acknowledge the warning. He wanted to dismiss Jerrick’s fears as paranoia, but the truth was, he couldn’t be certain of anything anymore. He kept his silence, unwilling to feed his brother’s growing mistrust.

Jerrick shook his head as if clearing his thoughts. "Keep an eye on Elena, and make sure she’s not trying anything else. We can’t afford to overlook any threats."

"What about preparations for the capital’s water supply?" Jerrick continued, switching gears to focus on the practicalities of defense. Elodia was perched high on elevated terrain, a strategic advantage for protection but a logistical challenge for resources. Jessamyn’s premonitions of a siege were weighing heavily on his mind.

William’s expression relaxed slightly, glad to shift the conversation. "I have plans in place. Did you know there are water tunnels beneath Mount Lumina that lead straight to the Temple of Levana? One of those tunnels runs directly to the palace. We need to clear it out and make sure it’s operational, just in case."

"Do it discreetly," Jerrick instructed. "We can’t let anyone know we’re preparing for a siege."

William nodded in agreement, mentally cataloging the steps he’d need to take. "It’ll be handled."

With that, the conversation ended, each man burdened by their own thoughts. Jerrick turned and headed upstairs to find Jessamyn, while William made his way down to check on Bernard. A small flicker of excitement shone in William’s eyes—he had never seen a fully transformed werewolf before, and the idea of examining Jerrick’s creation intrigued him.

As Jerrick ascended the staircase, the tension in his chest grew heavier with every step. The quiet rustle of quill against parchment reached his ears as he neared Jessamyn’s room.

He paused outside her door, listening to the familiar scratch of her writing. She had been at it often lately, always scribbling away in her room. At first, he thought she was sending messages, perhaps secret missives to allies or warnings to distant friends. But as the days passed, he realized it was something else entirely.

She wasn’t sending letters; she was recording something—something private, something that gnawed at his heart with an uneasy feeling. He could sense a growing distance between them, as if she was retreating into a place where he couldn’t follow.

Jerrick’s hand hovered over the door handle, uncertainty tightening his grip. A quiet resolve settled over him. Whatever it was she was writing, whatever thoughts she was keeping hidden, he had to know. The knot of dread in his chest told him it wasn’t just trivial musings—it was something much more profound, something that could change everything.

With a deep breath, Jerrick opened the door, stepping into the room where the woman he loved, the one who carried both his child and the burden of their uncertain future, sat with her back to him, lost in her thoughts.