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Chapter 7 - Awakening of the Heir

The courtyard fell into absolute, terrified silence. The household guards dropped their weapons, shielding their eyes from the blinding radiance emanating from the magnificent bird—and from Rowan himself.

As the golden light washed over Rowan, the tight ropes binding his wrists disintegrated into ash. He stood up slowly, feeling an unfamiliar, surging power rushing through his veins. The mark beneath the eagle's wing mirrored a glowing, identical emblem that now appeared blazing across the back of Rowan’s right hand.

Lord Alaric stumbled backward, his face draining of all color. "No... that's impossible. The line was extinguished. The child died in the snow!"

"She didn't let me die," Rowan said, his voice echoing with a resonance that sounded not entirely his own, carrying the weight of generations of mountain kings. "She hid me to keep me alive from a tyrant who feared losing his throne."

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The Crown Eagle leaped into the air, its wingspan stretching wide enough to block out the winter sun, casting a majestic shadow over Blackthorn Hall. It circled the towers once before landing gracefully upon Rowan’s outstretched arm, folding its golden primaries with quiet reverence.

The estate guards fell to their knees one by one, recognizing the ancient sign of the true bloodline. Alaric lunged forward with a hidden dagger, screaming in desperate rage, but a single sweep of the eagle’s wing sent him crashing across the marble dais, disarmed and broken.

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