Bloodline: Sovereign's Awakening - Chapter 47

Chapter 47: Rise of the True Stars
The world was a haze of golden light and shadows, a realm caught between waking and dreaming. Slowly, the weight of slumber lifted from Dasig’s mind, like a veil being drawn back to reveal a stark, unfathomable reality. Ragged breaths escaped him as his lungs fought the lingering unconsciousness; his body ached as if forged anew in a crucible of suffering.

A sharp gasp escaped him as he bolted upright. His hands clenched the silken sheets beneath him, fingers twitching with the ghostly memory of the violent attack—the burning air, the roars of degrading words, and the sickening attitude of Sionan before everything faded into darkness. He turned to his side, his vision swimming until he recognized the familiar figure stirring beside him.

Leon.

His sworn brother, his cousin, lay still, his face pale, but no longer bearing the bruises and wounds that had nearly claimed their lives. The quiet rise and fall of his chest was the only reassurance Dasig needed to know that they had somehow survived.

The air in the chamber was thick with the scent of sacred incense, laced with faint undertones of healing energy.

Beyond the grand arching windows, the sky shimmered with hues of celestial gold and violet—Pagadianara’s eternal dusk, a time when the world whispers secrets only the awakened could hear.

“You’re finally awake.”

The voice was regal, steady, yet burdened with the weight of generations.

Dasig turned toward the source and met the piercing gaze of Grand Matriarch Iskayna, her presence as formidable as the sovereign sigils embroidered into her midnight robes. Her presence, that of a peak, echoed sovereign and was just a step to rise a fabled tapestry.

A noblewoman of unwavering poise, her golden eyes shimmered with an ancient light, and the silvered strands of her hair, like a thread woven with luminous threads of cosmos, and her aura like the cascaded river of moonlight while gleaming sparks hovered over her shoulders. The markings of her lineage—elegant, archaic runes—adorned her wrists and throat, glowing faintly as if whispering of forgotten covenants.

At her gesture, Leon stirred, his eyelids fluttering before his gaze settled, disoriented but quickly sharpening as he recognized his surroundings. He inhaled sharply. “We survived?”

“Barely,” Iskayna answered, her voice carrying a grave finality. “You both were unconscious for four days. Had the Star Spirits not intervened to shield you, we would have lost you to Sionan’s attack.” She paused. “—The whispering stars had sacrificed themselves just to keep you alive.”

Iskayna had a tinge of sadness in her tone; even though she had not spoken to any of the star spirits, even more so to the Great Stars guiding the family until just recently, those cosmic beings had protected her in her childhood.

Dasig’s blood ran cold at the mention of it. The memories came rushing back—Sionan just came into the scene and only brought nothing to them but humiliation and unwarranted attack when they had no intentions of dealing with his immature behavior.

They had tried to be civil and ignore the rascal but could not contain it under the humiliating mention of their children; they did not mean for their counterpunch to progress to such a thing as the star spirits sacrificing themselves just to protect them. Leon felt the same way, his wrist clenching at the demise of those pure spirits and feeling guilty about the situation, leaving both a metallic tang on their throats like blades.

“Where is he?” Dasig asked, his voice edged with something raw.

Iskayna exhaled, her gaze distant. “Gone. The Brilliant Star passed its judgment on Sionan’s actions. The Celestial Dragon had claimed Elder Yvandro and Sionan’s wife, Prina, after succumbing to corruption and merging with the Abyssal Titan birthed by negative emotions within our domain. They were beyond horrified that a holy priest had to intervene.” Gently clenching the fabric of her robes, she was still trembling a little at how powerless she felt contending against the recent events.

A heavy silence settled over the chamber. Dasig clenched his fists, struggling to grasp the enormity of it all. Despite Sionan’s often unreasonable behavior, his formidable nature and revered name caused Dasig to try understanding and being more patient with him.

Leon sat up, rubbing his temple. “And what of the clan? What happened while we were asleep?”

Iskayna’s expression darkened slightly, though there was no hesitation in her words. “The Tala Clan is no longer what it was.”

Dasig felt his heart constrict. “What do you mean?”

“The other families have severed ties,” she said bluntly.

“They have forsaken the Tala name and rebranded their lineages under new banners. They will not stand by the bloodline’s return.”

Leon let out a quiet laugh, though there was no humor in it.

Iskayna’s gaze was unreadable. “Perhaps. But it matters little now. Regardless of their choices, the lineage of the Tala Clan remains intact. “You two,” she said, fixing them with a gaze that could shake the heavens, “are the chosen heirs, not by birth, but by the stars themselves.”

The words struck like a celestial decree, reverberating deep within Dasig’s soul.

“And you, Leon,” Iskayna continued, her gaze sharp, “You will oversee the family’s businesses, ensuring our economic foothold remains unchallenged.”

Leon exhaled slowly, rubbing his forehead. “That’s… a lot to take in after waking up from nearly dying.”

Dasig, however, did not flinch. The responsibility did not surprise him. He had always known that the burden of their bloodline would fall upon them one day. This is inevitable.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Dasig asked, his voice quieter now. “We had to reclaim what was lost,” Dasig reminded him, his voice quieter now.

Iskayna nodded. “Long ago, someone decreed that your descent would be announced. Even in the face of treachery, of those who turned their backs, the truth remains: you are the rightful leaders of this generation.”

The weight of history pressed down upon them.

“There is more,” she added, her voice carrying a rare softness. “I will tell you the truth behind your parents’ fall… and the destiny of our ancestors passed down.”

Dasig stiffened. “You know?”

“I have always known,” Iskayna admitted. “And when the time is right, I will tell you everything.”

Leon exhaled sharply. “Why not now?”

“Because you must first reclaim what is yours,” she said.

“Before the truth can be wielded, you must be strong enough to bear it,” Iskayna continued.

Dasig and Leon exchanged glances. There was no escaping it now. Their path had already been set in motion.

Then, as if sensing the storm in their thoughts, Iskayna offered one last revelation. “Nena and Amon have also been named heirs to the Tala family.”

Dasig blinked in surprise. “They are still at the Union Academy.”

Iskayna’s lips curled ever so slightly. “And yet, word has already spread among the nobility. The merchants speak of it. The academies are murmuring it. The high society of Bathalumea has no choice but to acknowledge the return of the truest prodigies of our lineage and accept Nena and Amon as the children of the Tala Family.”

The weight of it settled in. Their names were no longer mere remnants of a fallen house. Their power could no longer be ignored.

Leon ran a hand through his hair. “Well then,” he muttered. “Guess we don’t have a choice, do we?”

Dasig straightened, his heart steady, his mind resolute. “No.” He met Iskayna’s gaze, and for the first time, there was no hesitation. “We lead.”

The Grand Matriarch inclined her head. “Then rise, heirs of our lineage. The age of the Tala family begins anew.”

The vast expanse of the Tala Territory remained, but it was no longer whole. Its once-unified dominion had divided among the noble lines that once carried the name with pride. The Celestial Seal Castle, still the heart of the Main Family, housed the remnants of the true legacy—its wealth, artifacts, and sovereign claim to the name Tala. It was this foundation that allowed them to remain standing as a Mid Noble Clan, though their strength was now tested more than ever.

Yet, beyond the castle walls, the fractured branches of their bloodline had carved their paths. No longer bound to the Tala name, they had reshaped their fates under new banners.

Saphira, once among the leading figures of the House, had taken the name Pergamino, a name inspired by the scrolls of wisdom housed in her family’s keep. A scholar at heart, she had repositioned her lineage as one of knowledge and preservation, embracing a future built upon intellect and strategy rather than power alone. A new clan under the ranks of low nobles.

Virelio, with his ever-unshaken pride, had become the head of Mantilla, named after the grand, veil-like fortifications of his estate. His house, once a force of might among the Tala, also found itself in the ranks of a Low Noble House. Yet, he was far from accepting his fate quietly.

Those who followed him whispered of his plans—of how he would reclaim his former stature, no matter the cost.

Marcon, pragmatic and unyielding, had chosen Bantay, a name that spoke of guardianship, a fortress watching over the land. His was the house of warriors, those who had once served as the vanguard of the Tala name. Even now, his family remained steadfast in their purpose, though they, too, had fallen to the status of low nobility.

And then there was the Gilded Star Branch, once a proud extension of the Main Family, now severed and standing alone. The absence of its leader, Xiadon, the remaining heir to the Elder seat, had left it adrift, governed instead by its Senior Council, whose members debated the future of their lineage. A new family name had yet to be chosen—a symbol of their uncertain fate. Would they remain under the main family’s rule until Xiadon’s return, or separate as it is? But no definitive decision yet, as they do not know how Xiadon would react to the fall of his grandfather and parents.

For now, the fractured pieces of the Tala family stood apart, each carving its destiny. But even in division, their fates remained entangled, threads of the same great tapestry woven through time.

Dasig watched from the highest tower of the Celestial Seal Castle, gazing over the lands that had once belonged to a singular, undivided family. The weight of his new title settled over him—not just as the Head Elder of the Tala Family, but as the one who would bear the burden of its rebirth.

Behind him, Leon stood with his arms crossed, eyes reflecting the same unspoken thoughts.

“Do you think they’ll ever return?” Leon finally asked.

Dasig exhaled slowly. “Perhaps. Or maybe this is how it was always destined to be.

Leon let out a chuckle. “So, what now, Head Elder?”

Dasig turned, his gaze steady. “Now, we rebuild. The age of the Tala Family has begun anew, and we will show Bathalumea that we are still here, like symbols of swords that once we were, protecting the legacy of our ancestors, and still loyal to the true sovereign of this land.”

Beneath the eternal dusk of Pagadianara, the threads of fate continued to weave their tale. Despite the manipulation of hidden powers, the world decides its own destiny, and soon, the shift will thread the truth and history.