The gardens shimmered in the high heat of summer, the air thick with the perfume of climbing roses and the hum of ether lamps disguised as lanterns in the trees. The Capital spread in glittering towers beyond the palace walls, but here the sound was softer: the clink of silver against porcelain, the low rush of a fountain, and the faintest giggles of a boy who thought he'd gotten away with stealing a second tart.

"Arik," Gabriel said without looking up from slicing the peaches, his tone calm and natural, "put that back on the plate."

Almost six years old, the prince froze in his chair, golden eyes wide with mock innocence. "I didn't take anything."

Damian leaned back in his chair, sunlight catching on the gold at his collar, his smile small and entirely merciless. "Your hands are sugared."

Arik glanced down at his sticky fingers, scowled, and shoved the tart back on the plate with all the drama of a general retreating under fire. "It was too small anyway."

Gabriel's laugh slipped out despite himself, quiet and sharp. "A Lyon through and through." He reached for a napkin, wiping his son's hands with patience before passing him a proper slice of peach. "Eat this. You can try the rest when you've finished your vegetables."

Arik made a face but obeyed, chewing with exaggerated misery.

Damian watched them both, golden eyes softer now than any court had ever seen, his hand brushing Gabriel's under the table. For a moment, there was only the garden, the light, and the quiet strength of a family that had withstood everything the nobles had thrown at it.

The moment broke with the sound of careful footsteps on stone.

Edward approached across the garden path, immaculate despite the heat, a thin case tucked under his arm. He inclined his head once. "Your Majesties. Forgive the interruption."

Gabriel set his fork down, sharp gaze flicking up. "News?"

Edward placed the case on the edge of the table, the imperial seal glowing faintly against its lock. "Yes. After years of silence, we finally have a trace. A fragment of the old archive that vanished after Goliath's death has surfaced in a remote area of Donnin."

The air stilled. Even Arik, mid-bite, looked up between his parents, golden eyes glinting with curiosity at the sudden shift in tone.

Damian's hand tightened over Gabriel's. "Where exactly?"

Edward's voice was low. "Near the northern ridges. Sparse settlements. Difficult terrain. But the report is credible. It seems… someone's been keeping pieces hidden."

Gabriel's lips curved faintly, but his eyes were sharp as steel. "At last." He exhaled slowly, gaze cutting toward the Capital's horizon. "Then the past is ready to be dug up."

Edward shifted the case closer, his tone crisp. "I have already instructed Gregoris to send a detachment. They're sweeping the ridges now, retrieving whatever fragments survived. You'll have their first report within the week."

Gabriel leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming once against the porcelain saucer. "Good. Make sure they collect everything, not just the pages with neat corners. I want the ash, the scraps, and the charred bindings. Anything someone tried to erase usually matters more than what they let remain."

Arik blinked up at him, peach juice running down his chin. "Erase?"

Damian reached over, steadying his son's small hand on the table. His golden gaze softened, though the weight behind it was no less sharp. "Some people try to hide the truth when they fear it. But truth doesn't stay buried forever."

Arik chewed thoughtfully, as though that were a puzzle worth solving, before announcing, "If they hid it, I'll find it."

Gabriel's mouth curved, humor edged with something darker. "Yes, you will. Which is exactly why they'll try to stop us before you do."

Gabriel's words hung in the summer air, heavy despite the hum of bees over the roses.

His gaze cut down to Arik, who was leaning comfortably against him, sticky fingers curled around his chain again as though it belonged to him by birthright. Golden eyes, bright and unyielding, lifted to meet his.

Almost six years old, and every day the resemblance grew. The weight behind those eyes, in the stubborn tilt of his chin, in the way his temper struck like lightning and lingered like fire.

They were ninety percent sure now. Enough to never say aloud outside this garden. Enough to make every whisper of Goliath's name cut sharper than blades.

Gabriel's hand stilled on the table, his coffee cooling in its cup. He didn't look away from those golden eyes, so sharp and certain in a face still rounded by youth. Almost six years old, and already carrying the shadow of a man the Empire had tried to erase.

Damian saw it too. He always did. His fingers brushed Gabriel's under the table, a grounding pressure, though his gaze was fixed on their son. "He has his own gravity," Damian murmured, voice low enough that only Gabriel and Edward could hear. "The world will bend to it whether they want to or not."

Edward inclined his head slightly, as though to confirm the thought without daring to put words to it. He was too careful to say the name aloud, not here, not even with the fountains masking their conversation. But the silence that followed was full of it.

Arik, oblivious to the weight his presence carried, wrinkled his nose and licked the last of the peach juice from his fingers. "Gravity's boring," he declared, swinging his legs under the chair. "I'll find secrets instead. Secrets are fun."

Gabriel laughed, soft and sharp at once, bending to wipe his son's sticky chin. "Spoken like a Lyon." He pressed a kiss to Arik's hair, though his eyes were already fixed on the Capital skyline again. "And like Goliath."

The name landed like thunder, though he had spoken it lightly, almost lazily, as if daring the air itself to carry it away.

Damian didn't flinch. His golden gaze stayed steady, burning in quiet agreement.

Edward, however, drew in a careful breath, setting the case more firmly on the table. "Then the sooner Gregoris's men return, the better. If we can recover even a handful of fragments… it may give you more than speculation to hold onto."