The Days That Followed
The estate bloomed with life.
Caveen ran through the gardens with wolves at his side, his aura flickering between control and curiosity as he carved glyphs in the dirt. Merca and Jacob repaired the crumbling outer walls with stone and sweat. Nadia built a tree swing and challenged Carl to daily sparring duels, much to everyone's amusement.
But when the moon climbed high, and the world hushed again, Maika and Carl returned to their room.
The one from before.
The one now reborn.
By candlelight, they pieced each other back together.
Carl would whisper stories from the years she lost, running his fingers through her hair like it anchored him to a reality he still couldn't believe had returned. Maika would trace the lines of his battle-worn skin, whispering dreams she couldn't explain but always seemed to end with him.
They made love slowly—gently—as if every kiss was another stitch sewing shut old wounds.
"I used to dream about this room," she said one night, curled in his arms.
Carl pressed his lips to her forehead. "That's because it was always ours."
---
Three Years Later
The estate slept under silver moonlight.
Wolves howled in the distance, their lullaby floating over cliffs and rooftops as Caveen curled beneath a thick blanket in his corner bedroom.
The wind stirred through the window.
Caveen's eyes fluttered closed.
He didn't dream of fire or cages anymore.
Tonight, he dreamed of something else.
A hum.
A low vibration in his chest—like a second heartbeat that didn't belong to him, but echoed within him.
The world shifted.
He stood barefoot in a meadow of silver grass, moonlight painting everything in shimmering magic. Trees pulsed with pale light. The stars above bloomed like flowers. The air smelled of lavender and stormclouds.
And then—
A voice.
"Caveen…"
He turned.
A girl stood beneath the trees.
Younger than him. Pale skin like marble, long silver hair like rivers of moonlight. Eyes like melted amethyst. Her aura pulsed between violet and black—a haunting dance between witchcraft and something ancient. Something divine.
He took a step toward her.
"Who… are you?" he breathed.
The girl tilted her head, a small, knowing smile blooming. "I'm the piece of you you've been waiting for."
His throat tightened. "Are you real?"
"I will be," she whispered. "Soon."
His breath caught. "Are you… my sister?"
"Yes." Her eyes gleamed brighter. "I'm the one they fear. The one who'll carry it all—witch, vampire, curse, and gift. Born of love. Marked by shadow."
Her voice didn't sound like a girl's.
It sounded like prophecy.
"I saw you first," she whispered. "Through your dreams. Through your cries. I was there, even before I had a name."
He stepped forward, hand trembling.
She touched his cheek. "You're not alone, Caveen. You never were."
Tears stung his eyes. "Why now?"
"Because you needed to remember you're not fighting for yourself."
Her smile turned wistful. "I'll need you. When I come into the world. When the Council returns. When everything burns again."
"I'll protect you," he vowed, voice shaking.
"I know you will."
The light around her began to dim.
"Wait—what's your name?" he called.
She smiled wider. "I don't have one yet… But you'll give it to me."
And then she vanished.
Leaving behind only the echo of her heartbeat in his chest.
---
Back in the Estate – Present
Caveen shot up in bed.
Heart racing. Hands clenched.
The moonlight poured across his face like a blessing.
He looked down at his palm, half-expecting it to glow.
"I'll protect you… little sister," he whispered into the dark.
Then he lay back, a soft smile tugging at his lips.
For the first time in days, he slept soundly.
Because now, he knew—
He was no longer just the son of two powerful bloodlines.
He was the beginning of something far bigger.
The fire crackled softly in the hearth of Carl's estate, casting flickering golden light across the polished floors of the great hall. For once, there was peace. A warm, rare kind of peace.
Maika rested her head against Carl's shoulder on the velvet-cushioned settee, their bodies drawn close, comforted by the warmth between them. Nestled in her arms was Caveen, eyes heavy with contentment, lulled by the hush of laughter and clinking goblets.
By the window, Valus stood with Queen Vantessa, their quiet conversation accented by the gentle swirl of crimson wine. Across the room, Merrine and Anne laughed softly with Malko, sharing one of those rare, tender moments unmarred by bloodshed or fear.
For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, everything was still.
Then—Caveen stirred.
His small hand clenched Maika's sleeve as he sat upright, his eyes flicking toward the high ceiling, wide and uncertain.
Maika leaned in immediately, mother's instinct sharpening. "What is it, sweetheart?"
"I…" He paused, swallowing hard. "I think something's coming. Something like… the dream."
The laughter died. The warmth shifted.
Queen Vantessa's gaze snapped toward him, her body going unnaturally still. "A dream?"
Carl straightened, his eyes narrowing with worry. "You saw something again?"
Caveen nodded, voice barely above a whisper. "She came to me. My sister. Not born yet… but she's real."