Chapter 431: The Name Your Father Never Spoke

Rhydian;

The silence after Avaren’s words presses into me like a threat... rather than a warning.

I blink at him, and although my eyes are on him, everything clashes behind my eyes.

Witches, beastmen, the massacres... The promise he claims my father made.

I look away from Avaren, unsure of what to say, or if even speak. They may be less than us in number, but what they lack in number, they have in strength. Their attack on Gravemaw was just the tip of the iceberg of how powerful they are...how destructive they can be. So...If he’s saying...that they plan to wage war on us—Then I’m afraid he’s right.

Our people would suffer more.

Igma quietly sits back in her seat, and I blink at her. Her knee is bouncing continuously. She’s worried, but she says nothing.

I can’t imagine the turmoil currently going on in her mind. She’s anticipating seeing Alana. Wondering where Alana is, and at the same time, she’s being forced to learn that the history we thought we knew about our people could all be fake.

As Alphas of royal bloodlines, it’s a bitter potion to swallow.

"If everything you’ve told me is true..." I begin slowly, "Then why did my father never tell us any of this?"

Avaren doesn’t answer my question. Instead, he tilts his head as a coy smile splits his face.

"There are many things your father never told you." He replies, and I find annoyance tightening inside me.

I hate how this outsider talks about my family and me. Worse...I hate how confidently he does it. Like he knows more about my home... my family, and my people than I do.

"What does that mean?" I ask, despite my pride and the rage steadily growing inside me.

Avaren hums quietly before leaning forward slightly,

"Did he ever tell you about Gorlois?" He asks, and my brows crease.

I look at Igma, and her eyes find mine—Equally confused.

"Who?" I ask in confusion, and Avaren scoffs a laugh before looking away from me.

"Of course..." He mutters under his breath, and I cross my arms over my chest as I look at him.

"I’ve never heard that name." I clarify, and with that, I feel the atmosphere...shift.

The witches and warlocks seated around us remain completely motionless, but something shifts. Like that name carries weight.

Avaren eventually leans back as he nods.

"Of course you haven’t." He replies, and Igma sighs impatiently.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" She demands, but Avaren keeps his head in my direction as he answers.

"It means your father did an excellent job." He says flatly...Like he’s talking to me, and I raise a brow.

"An excellent job at what?" I ask, but he doesn’t let me land before he responds.

"Erasing him."

I stay silent as I stare at this man, and he lets out a breath.

"Who the fuck is Gorlois?" I finally demand in irritation, and Avaren falls silent.

"You better fucking get to the—"

"He’s the warlock who helped your father build BeastHeaven." He cuts me off, and my heart stops.

I don’t know when...why, or how...But a laugh suddenly escapes me. An actual laugh.

"Have you gone mad?" I ask in absolute amusement, but Avaren doesn’t react. He doesn’t so much as flinch.

"My father built BeastHeaven!" I spit, and Avaren nods.

"Yes. With the help of a warlock." He replies, and I see red.

"Stop saying that!" I rage as I take a step towards him.

"My father founded BeastHeaven with his sweat and blood! He drafted marriage alliances and pulled all four kingdoms together! Everyone knows that." I add, and Avaren sighs.

"Everyone knows the story—" He begins, and I cut him off.

"And the story is that he united the kingdoms. He created the laws, brought the kingdoms together. And fought for Beastheavn to have the glory and name that it does today." I cut in, and he nods.

"Yes."

"Then where the fuck does this Gorlois come in?" I rage, yet Avaren’s expression remains unreadable.

"Gorlois was one of the people beside him when those ideas were still ideas." He replies, and my stomach twists.

"What?"

"The structure of Beastheaven. The treaties, the diplomatic systems...The methods of integrating territories that did not originally belong to your father’s kingdom..." He pauses. "Gorlois helped him." He answers, and I just...stare at him.

"So...You’re telling me some warlock helped my father build Beastheaven—"

"Not some warlock." He scolds, and I fall silent.

"Gorlois." He corrects, and I swallow.

The way he says the name makes it sound like I’m supposed to know it.

But I don’t.

"I’ve studied the history of Beastheaven," I argue. "I’ve read the records. I’ve studied Father’s campaigns. I’ve sat through lessons about the formation of the kingdom. Gorlois isn’t in any of them."

"I know," Avaren replies, and I look back at Igma to be sure I’m not the only one who’s utterly lost. The confusion on her face assures me that I’m not.

"Then how could he have helped?" She asks, and Avaren finally turns to her.

"Because history is written by those who remain." He says quietly, and I scoff.

"Who else is supposed to write it? Odd names thrown about in covens?" I reply, but Avaren doesn’t rise to the bait.

"Gorlois gave your father ideas. Plans. Strategies. He helped him negotiate with kingdoms that did not trust him." He simply says as he turns back to me. I fold my arms as my eyes narrow.

"And my father just...accepted all this help from a warlock?"

"He did more than accept it." He replies, and I pause.

"He trusted him." He replies, and the way he says those words makes something uncomfortable move through my chest.

"You’re telling me my father trusted a warlock?"

"Your father trusted Gorlois enough to put matters of diplomacy in his hands." He replies, and I shake my head in disagreement.

"This makes no sense—"

"It will." He says sharply, and I draw a breath.

"How?" I decide to bite, and he draws another breath.

"When your father decided that BeastHeaven needed to expand, he needed more than armies. He needed alliances." He begins, his voice carrying through the hall.

"He needed kingdoms to believe that joining BeastHeaven would benefit them." He continues, and I listen silently.

"Kingdoms like Howleroot." He adds, and my heart stops in my chest.

"Gorlois arranged the marriage alliance that helped your father bring Howleroot into Beastheaven."

As those words leave his mouth, everything inside me goes silent. Every thought, every argument...every irritation. They all just...Go silent, and I find myself staring at him in utter dumbfoundment.

I know Father didn’t marry my mother because he loved her. I know they got together for political reasons, but this bastard saying that one of their kind is the reason my parents ever even got together in the first place...that my existence is all thanks to one of them—

’Okay, Avaren. I will have you know that I am losing every last bit of patience I have left, and I will honestly fucking advise you to cut to the chase and stop with these cock and bull stories! We can not and will not believe everything you say just because you said it!" Igma rages beside me as she stands, and Avaren turns to her.

"It’s not my fault you do not believe. Neither is it my responsibility to make you believe. I am only telling you this so you understand where we are coming from, and when we strike, you understand why. Also, so you know that we gave you a chance to make things right." He replies, and I swallow as I listen in silence.

Then he turns back to me.

"Your mother was to be the next Alpha of Howleroot." He says, and I grit my teeth. "And your father needed Howleroot—"

"What are you trying to do?" I cut him off flatly, and he tilts his head a bit.

"I am trying to show you that the kingdom you plan on inheriting was built by more people than your history books mention." He replies, and Igma scoff beside me.

"And somehow this Gorlois is one of those people?" She mocks, and Avaren nods in agreement.

"One of the most important. Without him...Beastheaven wouldn’t be half of what it is today. Wilhelm didn’t want anyone to know he existed." He replies, saying the last part with so much disgust that I almost feel ashamed.

"...Why?"

"Because Gorlois became inconvenient." He replies to me, and I blink at him.

"Inconvenient?" I repeat, and Avaren nods.

"Once BeastHeaven had what it needed, Gorlois was no longer useful." He says, and I stare at him. I stare at him in silence as he paints my father like some monster who takes advantage of people.

But then...I remember the state Father was in after the witches and warlocks’ attack on Gravemaw. He was drowning in guilt. Like the attack was his fault, and no matter how hard I pressed, he didn’t tell me anything.

Could it be that—Is there a chance that what Avaren is saying...Is true?

"Gorlois was a resource. A mind... A diplomatic advantage. And when your father got everything he wanted...He discarded him." Avaren continues with his voice dropping solemnly, and I shake my head in refusal to believe all this.

Father may be many things. Grey in some places, but he...he’s not the type to do this. He’s–He’s not this shallow.

"No."

"He drove him from BeastHeaven." Avaren cuts me off.

"Father wouldn’t—"

"He allowed your people to turn against mine."

"Would you just listen—"

"And when the hatred toward witches and warlocks became open violence..." Avaren pauses. "He did nothing."

My chest tightens so hard it becomes rather difficult to breathe.

"That’s not true!"

"You don’t know that." He counters, and my frown deepens.

"I know my father." I retort, and Avaren scoffs.

"Do you?"

The question hits harder than it should.

"You don’t know him," I reply flatly, and he nods.

"I knew Gorlois." That response causes me to freeze.

"I knew the man your father erased," Avaren adds, his voice quieter now.

"Gorlois was a brilliant man." He says, and I look away from him.

"Warlocks are capable of being brilliant...And kind." He continues, but I do not look back at him.

"He believed your father’s promises. He believed BeastHeaven could become what Wilhelm claimed it would be." He adds, and my jaw tightens.

"Unity." He adds so softly I almost don’t hear it, so I look up at him.

"Peace, and equality." He whispers further, and I swallow.

"Gorlois tried to reason with him." He says after a pause, and I eye him suspiciously.

"And?"

"He was removed."

"By my father?" I ask in disbelief, and Avaren nods.

"And by Beastheaven. Your father knew what was happening. He knew what was being done to witches. He knew what was happening to Gorlois." He replies, and my fists tighten.

"You’re accusing my father of standing by while his own ally was hunted."

"I am telling you what happened."

"You don’t know that!" I yell, and Avaren slams his hands on the armrests of his throne.

"I was there!" He yells back, and I fall silent.

"I was there, you prat! I saw what your people did to mine! I watched your people burn my mother alive. I watched your people drown babies! I watched your people kill sisters and brothers. Mothers and Fathers, So, don’t stand there countering things that I cannot forget!" He screams further, and I feel my heart fall to my feet.

I look away for a second, and Igma’s hands slowly wrap around mine. My mind starts racing as so many thoughts erupt all at once.

Gorlois...

A warlock who helped build BeastHeaven. A warlock who helped my father negotiate....A warlock who helped bring Howleroot into BeastHeaven.

A man my father apparently trusted. A man whose name my father never once spoke.

Why? Why would Father erase someone so important? Why would the history books pretend this man never existed?

Why would Father— My thoughts stop, and I shut my eyes.

I don’t know. And that scares me more than anything Avaren has said.

"Was he powerful?" I ask quietly, and Avaren hesitates for a second before responding.

"Very."

"Powerful enough to challenge my father?"

"Not in the way you think."

"What does that mean?" I ask in honest confusion, and Avaren sighs.

"Gorlois was never interested in ruling BeastHeaven. He just wanted to belong. He wanted to make a place for us." He replies, and that answer lands strangely.

I look toward the witches around us, and suddenly...I don’t seem to see grim monsters cloaked in shadows and robes. I see... families...people. People who had apparently spent generations simply trying to exist.

"Your father got what he wanted." Avaren’s voice breaks into my thoughts, and I look back at him.

"BeastHeaven, glory... and power. But Gorlois lost everything. And as our leader fell...so did we. Because not once did he give the order for us to fight back." He adds as his head drops lightly, and the heaviness in my chest becomes so much that I have to take a step back.

My chest is burning. My head hurts. I’ve spent enough time listening to this man’s version of history.

Maybe some of it is true. Maybe all...or none of it is. But I am done standing here while he drags my father through the mud and expects me to swallow everything because he speaks with the confidence of someone who has lived for centuries.

I glare directly at the blindfolded warlock and let out a breath.

"Enough with the stories," I say, but Avaren doesn’t move.

"I’ve heard all you had to say," I add as I gesture around the room.

"Fine. My people aren’t as innocent as we preach to be, right? Noted." I continue with bitterness in my voice.

I then turn back to Avaren.

"But what the fuck do you want?" I demand.

"What is the point of all this?" I push, and Avaren’s head tilts.

I spread my arms in frustration.

"You dragged us through that fucking forest. You sent those creatures after us, you kidnapped us, and sat us in this courtroom, and for minutes on end you’ve been telling me how terrible my people are." I continue as my jaw clenches.

"So, tell me." I stare at him. "What the fuck do you want from us?"

Once again, Avaren doesn’t answer immediately. The silence stretches between us, then he slowly rises from his throne.

Every witch around us lowers their head again, and my wolf stirs.

Avaren steps down from the platform, and once again walks over to us. He stops several feet away.

His blindfold remains perfectly in place, yet somehow, I feel as though those covered eyes are staring directly at me.

"You are asking the wrong question." He says coldly, and I frown.

"Then give me the right one." I retort, and his lips part.

"How do you protect your people from experiencing the same things your people did to us all those years ago? How do we stop the massacre of beastmen? Believe it or not, Rhydian...It’s coming. And it will be far worse than what you witnessed at Gravemaw."