Chương 117: Family Relationships

Mateo's POV Mateo pressed his face to the viewport as their Hornet passed through the final gate into Ashviel. His father had told him stories. Years of bedtime tales and reluctant answers, fragments pieced together into a picture he had been building since childhood. But words could not do justice to Ashviel. The city sprawled across a cavern so vast he could not see its walls. Buildings rose in sweeping Gothic spires, pointed arches and flying buttresses glittered in the light.

Bridges connected towers at dizzying heights. Platforms floated on formation arrays, carrying traffic between districts. And at the center of it all stood the Cathedral of Stillness. Its central spire pierced upward until it vanished into the cavern's misty ceiling. Stained glass windows the size of city blocks depicted the Grey Eternal in various poses, his serpentine divine manifestation coiled around his shoulders. Lesser spires surrounded the main tower like attendants around a throne.

The whole structure radiated spiritual pressure Mateo could feel even from this distance. And something inside him answered it. The divine blood in his veins stirred, and a tremor ran through his hands. For a moment, Mateo let himself feel it. The pull. The sense of rightness. This city had been built for his bloodline. The snake inside of him belonged here in a way he had never belonged anywhere on Earth. The feeling was so complete, so total, that it scared him. This is what his father had abandoned.

Vorindis Thandril had walked away from a Tier Five immortal city to live in a two-bedroom apartment in San Antonio. To work as a security consultant. To marry a combat medic and give his son an ordinary childhood. His father's words echoed in his mind. Sobering his yearning divine blood. Nothing is better than coming home to a wife who loves you. Nothing in Ashviel could give me that. Mateo had always believed that family was important.

But standing here now, feeling the Cathedral pull at something deep in his marrow, he understood for the first time the weight of his father's choice. The Hornet descended toward a landing platform in the Cathedral District. Below, a welcoming party was already assembling. Formation lights blinked along the platform's edge, guiding their ship to its designated landing space with pulses of red and white.

Mateo gathered his things and found the formation team in the central cabin, faces pressed to viewports, whispering to each other.

"Everyone," Mateo said.

"Form up." They assembled behind him. Leo. Thad. Ella. Vivian. Liyang. Danyl. Mateo walked to the rear hatch. He stopped before the sealed door and turned to face them.

"We are now in the heart of the Grey Cult. Watch your words. Watch your mannerisms. If you are unsure what to do, follow my lead or Ellaraeth's. Do not improvise. Do not touch anything that looks sacred, which will be most things." Nods all around. Mateo took a breath. Then he triggered the hatch release. Grey light flooded in, soft and diffuse, emanating from formation arrays embedded in every surface. The air carried the scent of incense, sweet and heavy.

Two columns of Gold Core cultivators in ash-grey inquisitor robes formed a corridor of honor, each holding a banner bearing the coiled serpent of the Grey Cult. Between them stretched a carpet of grey silk leading to the delegation at its end. And at the head of that delegation stood a woman Mateo recognized from description alone. His aunt. The woman his father had warned him about. Seraphindë Thandril looked like she could have been his father's younger sister, her face unlined, her skin smooth.

Gold Core cultivators aged slowly, so there was no telling how old she actually was. Mateo recognized the features from old photographs his father kept hidden in a desk drawer. The same high cheekbones. The same white hair, coiled in an elaborate style that must have taken her servants hours. Mateo reached into his blood. The divine power answered immediately. He let it pulse outward in a wave of pressure that rolled across the landing platform. The Gold Core guards dropped to their knees. All of them.

In perfect unison, banners dipping as they prostrated themselves before the divine child. Something resonated. Mateo felt it in his chest, a cord connecting him to the woman at the end of the carpet. They shared the same blood, the same power, the same serpent coiled within their souls. The warmth from the Cathedral surged back, ten times stronger. His blood sang.

Every formation in the landing platform brightened as if responding to him, and Mateo felt the city itself lean toward him like a dog recognizing its master's scent. This is home, his blood whispered. No it isn't, he told it. Seraphindë smiled. She had watched the whole thing. Mateo walked forward. Behind him, Leo and the others hesitated. Then footsteps followed as they stepped carefully between the kneeling guards. Mateo realized, too late, what he had done.

He had only intended to check if this woman was truly his aunt. All he wanted was to try the bloodline resonance ability he had read about. He had never preformed it before. After all, his father had never awakened his divine blood. But to the kneeling Gold Core guards, to the growing crowd of believers at the platform's edge, to his aunt watching him with that knowing smile, the meaning was different. They saw the heir to the cult declaring his return to his family.

And the worst part was that his blood agreed with them. Mateo stopped three paces from his aunt. Seraphindë inclined her head and welcomed them in English with formal diplomatic pleasantries about the Summit and the Heavenly Dao. She explained that she was their Liaison with the Grey Cult, and if they needed anything, she would be happy to help them with it.

Mateo matched her tone and offered the expected response, telling her they were honored to attend and eager to learn, and that he looked forward to mutual understanding between their delegations. Seraphindë studied him. Her grey eyes moved across his face. Mateo felt like a specimen under examination. He held still and let her look.

"Mateo," she said. The formal tone dropped.

"It is good to see you, nephew. You look just like your father. Standing here now, it is as if I have been taken back twenty years. I am staring at my brother."

"People tell me I have my mother's face."

"Perhaps." Seraphindë's smile didn't waver.

"But you have your father's expression. His fierce independence and his untamable heart." He nearly protested. I am not my father. But he could already imagine her response. A sad smile. A gentle sigh. That is exactly what he said when he left. So Mateo kept his mouth shut. Silence stretched between them. The kneeling guards remained prostrate. The crowd at the platform's edge whispered to each other. The formation team stood in an uncertain cluster behind him. Seraphindë sighed. She turned to address the group.

"The formation delegation will be housed in guest quarters near the competition grounds. If you require anything during your stay, please inform your room attendants. The Grey Cult will see that all reasonable requests are fulfilled." Her gaze swept across the team.

"The opening ceremony begins tomorrow afternoon. Rest well." Ella stepped forward, her movement fluid and precise, and offered the Grey Cult formal thanks on behalf of the delegation. Mateo made a mental note to thank her later. Seraphindë gestured, and one of the Gold Core guards rose.

"Guide our honored guests to their quarters." The guard bowed and walked toward a bridge connecting the landing platform to a nearby tower complex. The team started to follow.

"Mateo." Seraphindë's hand touched his elbow. He stopped. Behind him, the team stopped as well. He felt their eyes on his back.

"There will be a ball this evening," Seraphindë said.

"A private family affair. I wish for you to attend." Her smile was warm. Her eyes were calculating.

"Many of your cousins would like to meet you. They have heard stories, of course. The long-lost cousin, raised on Earth, who manifested his divine domain at Foundation Establishment. They are curious about the young man behind the legends." Mateo recognized the move instantly. Separate him from his team. Isolate him among family members who had spent their entire lives playing political games he didn't understand. He was about to refuse when Leo stepped forward.

"Can I also come?" Seraphindë's attention shifted. Her smile sharpened.

"It is a private family affair. Only those of the blood and close family friends are permitted to attend."

"I'm Mateo's friend." Leo didn't blink.

"You can think of me as a close family friend."

"You challenged my nephew to single combat." Seraphindë's voice remained pleasant.

"Twice, if I recall correctly. And you humiliated him. Twice."

"That's how we became friends. Nothing builds a relationship like honest competition." Mateo spoke before his aunt could respond.

"He's right. Leo comes with me." Seraphindë's eyes flickered.

"The Oblivion Cult would be honored to attend a gathering of our Grey Cult allies." Thad stepped forward, grinning.

"Strengthening inter-cult relations and all that." Ella's hand shot out and caught the back of Thad's collar. She yanked him back a step.

"What my brother means to say," Ella said smoothly, "is that House Nyxalis respectfully requests permission to attend, in keeping with the ancient traditions of hospitality between the Cults." Seraphindë looked at Thad. Then at Ella. Then at the rest of the team.

"We will make accommodations." A hint of sourness crept beneath the diplomatic warmth.

"The divine children of the Oblivion Cult are welcome, as are Mateo's close friends." A knot of tension loosened in Mateo's chest. He wouldn't face the Thandril family alone. Whatever games Seraphindë had planned, he would not be the only player. His aunt turned to leave. Then she paused, as if remembering something trivial.

"One more thing. A young woman will be at the reception this evening. Aelithris. A Foundation Establishment divine child, quite intelligent. I think you would find her worth speaking with." Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Then she bowed and withdrew. Mateo watched her go. He filed the name away. He decided he was going to avoid all women tonight. Especially ones named Aelithris.

The ball began two hours after their arrival. As expected, trouble was not so easy to avoid. First, Leo and Mateo stuck out like a sore thumb. They were the only ones wearing navy suits. Everyone else had arrived in various forms of grey robes and flowing dresses, elaborate garments that looked like a cross between formal wear and religious vestments. Even Thad and Ella had somehow gotten the message. They moved through the crowd in matching black attire.

Second, Mateo and Leo had thought themselves brilliant when they decided to leave their translation earpieces back at their quarters. The plan was simple: feign ignorance, respond to everything in English, and enjoy some peace and quiet while the political maneuvering happened in a language they couldn't understand. Unfortunately, the moment their hosts learned that the honored guests had forgotten their translation devices, servants materialized with replacement earpieces.

Then backup earpieces in case the first pair malfunctioned. Then a third set, just to be safe, along with a technician who spent five minutes making sure they understood the message. The only thing that worked was loudly announcing that they were ravenous and retreating to the buffet. This was true. They had survived nearly a week on nothing but MREs, and Leo's entire motivation for attending this event rested on the assumption that a formal ball would feature exceptional food. The reality was disappointing.

Everything on the buffet was spiritually rich and visually stunning, but it all seemed designed for display rather than consumption. The portions were tiny. The flavors were subtle to the point of blandness. And Leo and Mateo appeared to be the only people actually eating. They retreated to a quiet library adjacent to the main hall, plates in hand, and stood among shelves of ancient texts while debating whether to cut their losses and head back early.

"This was your idea," Mateo said, picking at something that might have been a vegetable.

"You said balls have great food."

"They do. Normally." Leo frowned at his plate.

"At prom they had wagyu, foie gras, caviar on blinis, and hors d'oeuvres everywhere you looked. This is like eating fondant."

"We could leave." Soft footsteps sounded on the stone floor. Mateo turned to find a young woman standing in the library doorway. She was perhaps nineteen, Foundation Establishment, with silver-grey hair worn loose around her shoulders and wire-rimmed glasses. The spirit-lanterns along the walls backlit her silhouette through the grey silk of her dress. For a full heartbeat Mateo forgot what he'd been thinking about.

The light traced the line of her collarbone, the curve of her neck, and his mouth went dry before a single coherent thought arrived. She adjusted her glasses and smiled.

"I heard you were missing the flavors from home," she said in accented but clear English. Her voice was low and unhurried, the kind that made you lean in to hear more.

"Two handsome visitors from Earth, starving in a library while everyone else pretends the buffet is edible. I couldn't let that stand." She held out a silver tray covered with a cloth.

"I brought you some Kvalthren. Street food. I had an attendant fetch them from a vendor in the lower districts." She lifted the cloth to reveal flat pieces of seasoned meat wrapped in grilled dough. Rich and savory, nothing like the delicate non-food on the buffet tables. They looked like tacos.

"Oh thank the heavens," Leo said, and grabbed two before Mateo could speak. Mateo was only half a second behind him. The Kvalthren were warm, properly seasoned, and contained actual substance. He finished the first one in three bites.

"Thank you," he managed around a mouthful.

"Seriously. Thank you." The girl laughed, a genuine sound that crinkled the corners of her eyes. Something warm flickered through Mateo's chest before suspicion smothered it. A girl he'd never met, showing up with exactly what they needed, exactly when they needed it.

"The food at these functions is more ceremonial than culinary," she said, still smiling.

"Ancient recipes from the Founding Era. Very prestigious. Very historical. Completely inedible. Everyone knows to eat a proper meal beforehand, but I suppose no one thought to warn you. That was unkind of them." Leo reached for a third Kvalthren.

"We forgive all of them. This is excellent." Mateo watched her as he ate. She carried herself differently from the other Grey Cult cultivators he'd met. Less formal. Less guarded. Her smile reached her eyes when she spoke, and she seemed far more approachable than anyone else at this gathering. He finished chewing and offered his hand.

"I'm Mateo Thandril. This is Leo Chen. Thank you for rescuing us from ceremonial starvation." She stepped forward and took his hand. Instead of shaking it, she dipped into a graceful curtsey, her fingers light against his palm. Her touch lasted a few seconds longer than formality required, and he was aware of every single one of them.

"Aelithris." Her silver eyes held his.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I've been curious for quite some time." Mateo's hand froze. Aelithris. The name Seraphindë had specifically mentioned. The woman he had planned to avoid all evening. And here she was, having approached them with food and warmth, wearing an easy smile that made something in his chest tighten in a way he didn't appreciate. He realized he was still holding her hand and released it.

"You seem surprised," Aelithris said.

"Has my reputation made its way up to the surface already? I hope they said flattering things. Or at least interesting things." Mateo had no idea what reputation she meant. All he knew was that his aunt had pointed her out specifically, and this coincidental meeting with the food looked very different in retrospect.

"I've heard the name," he said carefully. Aelithris tilted her head, reading something in his expression.

"Ah. Someone warned you about me." Her smile didn't waver, but a knowing quality entered her eyes.

"Let me guess. Seraphindë suggested you might find me worth speaking with, and you immediately decided to avoid me. A reasonable precaution. I would have done the same in your position." She was direct. Mateo hadn't expected direct. It threw him off balance, which might have been the point.

"Don't be so guarded," she continued.

"Everyone at this gathering has been discussing you since the moment you entered Foundation Establishment. I came to see what all the fuss was about." She spread her hands, palms up, as if laying herself bare.

"That's the truth. Whatever games others might be playing, I'm simply curious."

"And what's the verdict?" Her silver eyes held his for a moment too long.

"You're taller than I expected," she said.

"And you eat street food like someone who actually knows how to enjoy life. That's rarer than it should be among the divine bloodlines." Leo had gone very quiet. When Mateo glanced over, Leo was studying the library shelves, pretending he wasn't eavesdropping.

"I had the kitchen order a second tray," Aelithris said, glancing at Leo.

"They should be setting it out on the upper gallery. Near the east balcony. You should hurry before someone else finds them." Leo was already moving.

"I'll be back," he said. Mateo watched his so-called friend abandon him for tacos. He filed that away for later.

"Tell me about Earth," Aelithris said, turning her full attention back to him. She moved to lean against the edge of a reading table, one ankle crossed behind the other, her posture relaxed and inviting.

"The food. The cultivation traditions. I've read everything available, but texts only capture so much. What does it feel like to live there? I want to know what the books leave out." They talked. Mateo found himself describing San Antonio. The heat in summer. The smell of his mother's cooking. The way the sky stretched forever in Texas, so different from the cavern ceiling above them now. He caught himself mid-sentence, surprised at how much he was sharing with someone he'd known for ten minutes.

Aelithris listened with genuine attention. She asked questions at just the right moments, comparing Earth's academic approaches to the Catacombs' traditional apprenticeship systems. She wanted to know about formation theory curricula, about research funding, about the intersection of cultivation and technology. Her curiosity seemed bottomless, and each answer only prompted two more questions. He noticed, even as he answered, how easy she made it. The right question at the right moment.

Enough silence to let him fill. Whether it was natural or trained, he couldn't tell. The uncertainty bothered him more than it should have. Despite his earlier wariness, Mateo felt himself relaxing. She wasn't probing for political leverage. She wasn't testing his loyalty or his bloodline's strength. She was just curious about the same things he was curious about. Then the conversation lulled, and Aelithris looked at him with an expression he hadn't seen from her yet. Careful. Deliberate.

"Can I be honest with you?" she asked.

"Truly honest. Not politely honest."

"I'd prefer that to the alternative."

"I know you've been on guard all evening. Waiting for someone to make a political play." Her voice dropped, and she took a step closer.

"So let me say it plainly, and you can decide what to do with it." Here it comes, Mateo thought. And even knowing it was coming, he found himself wanting to hear what she had to say.

"Your divine blood manifested at Qi Refining," Aelithris said.

"Your divine domain materialized at Foundation Establishment. In the Grey Cult, no one else has shown that level of potency." She held his gaze steadily.

"You are, by blood, closer to the Eternal than nearly any living descendant. Do you understand what that means to people like me?"

"I've been told."

"I manifested my divine blood at Foundation Establishment. No divine domain. That makes me notable. One of the stronger divine children of my generation." A pause, and something flickered behind her eyes.

"But still one of dozens. A piece on someone else's board."

"What's your point?"

"By myself, the elders move me where they wish. The faction leaders trade favors around my potential. I have no agency in my own story." Her silver eyes burned with sudden intensity.

"Next to someone like you, I become a player." She let the silence hold. Then she stepped closer, close enough that he could see the faint pulse at her throat, and held his gaze. There it was. Not just a political proposition. A personal one. He should have felt manipulated. Used. Instead, he felt something more complicated. She had laid every card on the table instead of hiding behind pretense, and that took either extraordinary courage or extraordinary calculation. He couldn't decide which was more attractive.

"You're proposing a marriage," Mateo said carefully.

"I'm proposing a partnership." She stepped closer still. Close enough that he caught something floral in her hair, light and clean. Close enough that the heat of her registered against his skin, and his next breath came a half-second late.

"Marriage is simply the form it would take. The substance is what matters."

"And what substance is that?"

"You came here to prove you walk your own path. I know about the Heart of Flesh. I know your goal, your dream to be more than what either world would make you alone."

"How do you know about that?"

"I researched you. Everything available. Your competition record. Your public statements. The manifesto you delivered at that stadium on Earth." A slight smile curved her lips.

"I found it compelling. More than compelling. I found it true." Mateo's jaw tightened. She had done her homework. Thoroughly. And he still wanted to keep talking to her. That was the most dangerous part.

"What do you want from me?" he asked.

"I want to see you succeed. The cult is dying, Mateo. Rotting from within. The elders preach stillness, but it has become stagnation. The doctrine that once made us strong now cuts off the very thing cultivation requires."

"The desire for life," Mateo said quietly.

"Yes." Her intensity sharpened, and for a moment she looked less like a charming noble and more like someone who had spent years waiting for a chance to say these words aloud.

"Every cultivator's power flows from their will to survive, to grow, to become more. But the Grey Cult teaches its followers to suppress that will. To embrace the stillness before the void. It's killing us. Slowly. Generation by generation." The words hit something deep. He had been thinking about it for months. How to reconcile his status as a divine child with his desire to cultivate the Heart of Flesh. How his innate divinity seemed to contradict the Dao of all living things.

"You don't have to do this alone," Aelithris whispered. Her face was tilted up toward his, her silver eyes steady and unblinking.

"My family has resources. Connections to every major faction in the Grey Cult. Scholars, formation masters, political capital that would take you decades to build on your own." She held his gaze.

"And my mother believes in you. She wants to see you succeed. Whatever you need, she can provide. Whatever doors need opening, she can open them." Her hand found the front of his suit jacket. Her fingers curled into the fabric, and she pulled him closer, just slightly, just enough that the distance between them shrank to almost nothing. Her chin tilted up. Her eyes dropped to his mouth. Mateo didn't pull away. He should have. He knew he should have.

But her breath was warm against his jaw, her scent filled his head, and his body was already leaning in before his brain caught up.

"By 'mother,'" Leo said from the doorway, "do you mean Seraphindë?" Mateo jerked back. He turned and glared at Leo. Leo stood in the library entrance with his arms crossed, Thad and Ella flanking him like backup singers. All three of them had clearly been watching for a while. Leo's face was perfectly neutral. Just a guy asking a clarifying question about a minor detail. Mateo looked at Aelithris. She didn't flinch. She didn't hesitate.

"Yes. Seraphindë is my mother." The words landed wrong. It took Mateo a full second to understand why. His brain assembled the family tree like a formation diagram, each connection clicking into place with horrible clarity. Seraphindë was his father's sister. Aelithris was Seraphindë's daughter. He was just having an intimate moment with his first cousin.

"Wait," Leo said.

"Don't," Mateo said.

"She's your..."

"I said don't." Leo's neutral expression cracked. Something dangerous glittered in his eyes. Thad got there half a second later. His face cycled through approximately four expressions in two seconds before settling on pure, unbridled delight.

"Your AUNT," Thad said, his voice climbing toward a register it had no business occupying, "just set you up with your COUSIN. That's what just happened. That is a thing that occurred."

"Can we please focus on the political implications..."

"THE COUSIN PART, MATEO." Thad was losing control of his composure.

"We are focusing on the cousin part." Ella's hand shot out and grabbed Thad's shoulder before he could say more. Aelithris looked between them with genuine confusion. Her brow furrowed slightly.

"I don't understand your reaction," she said.

"Cousin marriage is entirely standard practice among the divine bloodlines. How else would we preserve the purity of the Eternal's gifts? The strongest unions are those that concentrate power rather than dilute it." She turned to Ella, seeking support from someone who might understand cultivation nobility.

"Surely the Oblivion Cult maintains similar traditions? Your bloodline must have protocols for strengthening divine inheritance." Ella's expression remained perfectly composed.

"House Nyxalis is an Affinal branch," she said calmly.

"We are bound to the main branch through marriage rather than direct descent. I share no blood with the ruling family of the Oblivion Cult. Our house builds influence through alliances, rather than consanguinity." Aelithris pressed on, undeterred.

"This is perfectly normal. Besides, the cult has spiritual medicine that can correct any hereditary concerns. This is a solved problem in the Catacombs. It has been for thousands of years. There's nothing to worry about." Leo seized on this instantly.

"Oh, so the Catacombs has spiritual medicine specifically for inbreeding? Wonder why they needed to develop that." A beat of silence.

"Actually," Leo continued, warming to his subject, "this is great news for the Summit. If all the divine children are this inbred, the formation competition should be easier than I thought." Thad made a choking sound. Ella's grip on his shoulder tightened until her knuckles went white. Aelithris, still not grasping why this was a problem, tried once more.

"It is perfectly legal in eighteen of your fifty states, including your state of Massachusetts." She said it like she was presenting evidence in a court case.

"I checked. I wanted to make sure you were open to the idea before I approached you." Dead silence.

"It's legal in Massachusetts?" Mateo choked on his words.

"Of course." She spread her hands again, utterly sincere.

"And given our conversation just now, the attraction between us is clearly mutual. You felt it. I felt it. This is simply the logical next step. I don't see what the difficulty is." Leo pulled out his phone.

"Siri," he said, completely deadpan, "play Sweet Home Alabama." The opening guitar riff echoed through the library. Several Grey Cult servants in the hallway turned to stare.

"I hate every single one of you," Mateo said.