The morning sun bled golden over Ravenshade Estate, but the warmth it offered was lost to the heavy air. Alaric sat on the edge of the bed, silently watching the woman now curled under the blanket—no longer just Seraphine, but Karena reborn. Her face was peaceful, yet her awakening had torn through the calm like a hurricane.
The third day had passed, and she had fed—on him. The memory of her red eyes, fangs piercing into his skin, the feel of her lips trembling against his neck… then her voice trembling with tears: "My Alaric… you waited for me."
He touched the fresh bite mark still faint on his collarbone and sighed. There was relief, love, and something else. Wariness.
A soft knock came at the door.
"It's Caveen," a voice whispered. "Carlos is with me. She needs to see us."
Alaric glanced back at the bed. "She's still resting."
"Then we wait."
He rose and opened the door, allowing them in. Caveen looked solemn, his sharp silver eyes glinting with knowing. Carlos—Victor—stood behind him, arms crossed, face unreadable, but his aura was as volatile as wildfire.
Alaric led them to the sitting room. Just as he shut the door behind them, footsteps sounded inside the chamber.
Seraphine emerged, dressed in a simple white robe, her raven hair cascading like a waterfall over her shoulders. Her gaze met Alaric's first, then drifted past him.
She froze.
Carlos stood tall, framed by the morning light streaming through the tall windows. She stared at him, her pupils dilating.
"Victor…" she whispered, almost like a prayer.
Carlos's expression cracked—surprise first, then pain. "You remember."
Tears welled in her eyes. "You… I lost you."
"I did." His tone was clipped. "At least… part of me did."
She moved closer, stopping just before him. Her fingers trembled as she reached out to touch his face. "You… you're still you."
"I've always been me. I remembered you the moment I saw you again."
Behind them, Alaric stood silently. His jaw tensed, but he didn't interrupt.
Seraphine slowly turned to Caveen. "And you…"
"Yes," Caveen said softly. "Your brother."
She blinked, stunned. "I… I thought I had no one."
"The Council took you when you were still a baby," Caveen explained, stepping forward. "You were a threat—our bloodline, combined with the Carello's black magic… They suppressed your power, turned you human. Hid you. But it couldn't last forever."
Seraphine staggered slightly, Alaric instinctively moving to steady her.
"They feared what you'd become when you awakened," Caveen continued. "You were born a hybrid, a Nexus with dormant black magic. You've just turned twenty. Your awakening was inevitable."
She sat down slowly, trying to take it all in. "So… the memories, the pain, the hunger—it wasn't just a dream."
"No." Carlos's voice was low. "It was your truth returning."
"And you… Victor…" She looked up at him again, eyes flickering with old longing. "You were my fiancé."
He nodded slowly. "But you loved my brother."
Alaric winced, the unspoken truth now laid bare. But Seraphine shook her head.
"No, I loved you once. But something changed. I couldn't deny it. I tried to forget Alaric, to be loyal to you. But the heart…" She placed a hand on her chest. "It remembers."
Carlos—Victor—turned away, biting down the ache in his chest. "And now?"
She stood, walking toward him with gentle steps. "Now, I thank you for protecting me all those years. But my heart… still belongs to him."
His hands clenched at his sides, but he nodded. "Then I will protect you still. Even if it hurts."
She hugged him, this time not out of romantic affection, but a silent goodbye to their shared past.
Caveen watched, his gaze drifting to Alaric, who had stepped back to give them space. "What now, brother?"
Alaric's voice was calm but firm. "Now we prepare. The Council may be gone for now, but they'll come again once they sense her fully awakened."
Caveen nodded. "Then we stand together this time."
Carlos looked back at them. "You might not trust me, but I'm still a Vellaria. I'll fight for her, no matter who she chooses."
Alaric nodded. "Then stay. As long as you can control your feelings."
Carlos smirked faintly. "Can you?"
The two brothers stared at each other—centuries of history, betrayal, and love between them—but for now, a truce held.
Seraphine returned to Alaric's side. He cupped her face, brushing away the tears.
"I remember everything," she whispered. "The way you looked at me. The way you chose me over the world."
"And I would again," he whispered back, his forehead resting against hers.
Carlos turned away, walking toward the exit. "Call me when it's time to fight."
He disappeared into the hall, leaving the three behind.
Seraphine sat down again, nestled in Alaric's embrace. Her body still weak, but her heart finally whole.
Caveen poured her a cup of warm tea and sat beside her. "You have a lot of catching up to do, little sister."
"I know," she said, smiling through exhaustion. "But for now… I just want to stay like this."
Alaric kissed her temple.
"We have time," he said, voice steady. "This time… we do it right."
The Grand Chamber of the High Council stood cold and silent, ancient pillars casting shadows over the gleaming obsidian floor. Seated in a crescent around the scrying flame, the Dominants of the Council listened as a whisper turned into thunder.
Lady Jane Delacroix stood at the center, veiled in deep violet, her hands folded neatly. Her voice was honeyed with subtle spite.
"She is not mine by blood," she said, feigning grief, "but I raised her under my care. Seraphine... she was never just a girl. I only now understand who she truly is."
High Chancellor Veylan leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "Speak clearly, Lady Delacroix."
Lady Jane bowed slightly, her lips curling faintly. "Seraphine Delacroix is none other than the lost Nexus... Elira."
A sharp gasp echoed among the stone-clad Dominants. The scrying flame pulsed violently, flaring into deep crimson before calming again.
"You dare speak the name of the vanished one?" hissed Magister Orlien. "Elira was cloaked from even our seers."
"Not anymore," Jane said, voice trembling with manufactured sorrow. "She has awakened. I sensed it. Her power has begun to rise—and she has formed a bond with the one you all feared most."
"The vampire prince," another muttered.
"Alaric Vaelthorne," Jane confirmed. "She is to be his bride."
A sudden outcry erupted in the chamber. Ancient robes rustled. Chairs scraped stone. Panic intertwined with fury.
Veylan slammed his hand on the table. "Silence!"
The Dominants obeyed.
Orlien's face darkened. "Elira—Nexus born of black magic, heir to the Carellos… bonded to Alaric, the son of Antoine Vellaria. The last of the Elven-blood."
"If they unite," another murmured, "we lose control."
"Their bloodlines were meant never to converge again," a third spat. "It was forbidden."
"They were separated for a reason. We failed to kill the child when we had the chance."
Now, all eyes turned back to Lady Jane.
"Your Celestine... Is she still pure?" Veylan asked coldly.
Jane smiled thinly. "She is a noble of proper strength—submissive in aura, graceful in standing. A fitting wife for Alaric."
"She must be made his betrothed. Immediately," Orlien declared.
"But Alaric will not comply," another Dominant interjected. "He's bound himself to Elira."
"Then we break the bond."
The statement fell heavy in the chamber.
"How?" one dared to ask.
Magister Orlien stood. "We have forbidden rites for this purpose. Elira's bond can be severed. And if that fails... she can be eliminated."
"And Alaric?" someone whispered.
"If his dormant blood awakens fully—if he becomes the Elven heir—we will not be able to stop him," Veylan growled. "We must act before that happens."
They turned back to Lady Jane.
"You will prepare your daughter," Veylan ordered. "Celestine shall be trained as the new bride. Publicly, she will be declared his match."
Jane lowered her head. "And Seraphine?"
"Stall her," Orlien said. "Isolate her. Feed her doubt. If needed—deliver her to us."
"Can you do that?" Veylan asked.
Jane's eyes flickered with quiet malice. "It will be my pleasure."