The moon had begun its descent, casting a silver veil over Ravenshade. Most of the manor was fast asleep, the magical wards humming a low lullaby through the walls, cloaking the sanctuary in safety.
But in the West Garden, beneath the blooming night roses and the ancient Elven lanterns, Alaric Vaelthorne waited.
He stood still, his silhouette tall and regal under the moonlight, hands clasped behind his back, his usually stormy eyes reflecting quiet pensiveness.
He heard the footsteps before he saw him.
Carlos stepped into view, dressed in simple black, his coat slung over his shoulder, his hair tousled by the breeze. His sharp eyes met Alaric's, unreadable at first—but not unkind.
"You wanted to see me?" Carlos asked, voice neutral but respectful.
Alaric nodded slowly, motioning toward the nearby stone bench.
Carlos hesitated, then sat down. Alaric remained standing at first, looking up at the moon, searching for words. The silence between them was not tense—it was thick with history, memories, and all the things that were never said.
"I heard what Caelum said to you," Alaric finally spoke, his voice low, almost reverent.
Carlos stiffened slightly, then let out a quiet sigh. "I didn't intend for you to."
"I'm glad I did," Alaric murmured.
He turned to face him then, his expression stripped of all the cold distance he was known for. For once, there was no shadow of the war general, no trace of the cursed vampire king. Just a man—a father.
"Thank you, Carlos," he said. "For protecting them. For being the man I couldn't be during those years."
Carlos looked up at him, surprised at the sincerity. "I only did what needed to be done. They were… all I had."
Alaric sat down beside him, exhaling.
"I used to think strength was only measured in blood, in power, in conquest. But I was wrong." He glanced sideways. "You stayed. When I was buried in darkness… you were their light."
Carlos looked down at his hands, then spoke quietly, "He called me his second father."
"You are," Alaric said without hesitation. "You always will be."
A beat of silence passed. The two men—different as sun and shadow—sat side by side, not as rivals, not even just as allies. But as two guardians of a boy they both loved deeply.
"You are always Victor, my brother," Alaric added softly.
Carlos turned sharply at that, but Alaric continued before he could speak.
"Not just in your soul," he said, his voice rich with memory. "In your loyalty. In your fire. In how you would burn the world to protect what you love."
Carlos swallowed hard. "I don't remember that life… not fully."
"You don't need to. You're proving it now." Alaric placed a hand on Carlos's shoulder. "You're always Victor… but more than that—you're Carlos. And I trust you. With Seraphine. With Caelum."
Carlos looked at the hand on his shoulder, then met Alaric's gaze.
"And I trust you now," he said slowly, the words hard to admit but spoken with full weight. "You're here. You're awake. And he needs you."
Their eyes met—centuries of pain, loss, and redemption passing between them in that look. It was an unspoken oath. A pact sealed without blood, but stronger than magic.
Two men. Two pasts. One shared future.
For Caelum.
"I'll stand with you," Carlos added. "Whatever war comes."
Alaric gave a small smile. "Then let them come."
The wind swept through the garden, lifting petals into the air like blessings from the stars.
And beneath it, the two guardians sat—no longer burdened by the weight of unspoken debts, but lifted by the bond they now shared.
Caelum had not one father, but two.
The cobblestone path that cut through the silver woods was quiet under Carlos's boots. Moonlight slanted through the trees like blades of glass, and the breeze smelled faintly of lavender and rain—Landon estate always had a strange stillness to it.
Carlos had just left the mansion after a short but warm visit to his sister, Lysandra, who had noticed the weariness in his eyes.
"You work too hard," she had scolded him,.
"I have to," he had answered, brushing it off with a grin. But beneath his calm exterior, his mind was heavy.
The moment he reached the midpoint of the road back to Ravenshade, the air grew unnaturally cold.
He paused.
A soft laugh echoed behind him.
Carlos spun, hand instinctively reaching for his blade—but saw no one.
Until the mist gathered… and from it, a figure emerged.
Cloaked in shadows, pale eyes gleaming, Marlik's ghost took shape before him.
"You've grown strong, Carlos Mendez."
Carlos didn't flinch. "What do you want?."
"You," the ghost whispered, circling him. "And like me… you know what it feels like. To be unwanted. Unchosen."
Carlos's jaw tightened.
"She chose him," Marlik hissed, voice smooth like poison. "Alaric. Again. She always will. You've given everything, stayed through storms… and yet she loves a man who only recently woke from his slumber."
Carlos remained silent, his fangs slowly extending—not in hunger, but warning.
"I see it, you know," Marlik continued. "The way you look at her. The way you care for the boy. You love them." He grinned. "But they will never be yours."
"Say what you came to say," Carlos snapped, voice sharp with rising anger.
Marlik's expression turned darker.
"I offer you an alliance," the ghost said. "Help me. Give me the boy. And I will give you what you desire—freedom. Power. A world where you're not second to anyone."
Carlos's eyes gleamed crimson now, rage pulsing through every vein.
"You're not just mad," he snarled. "You're disgusting."
"Think," Marlik cooed. "She will never choose you. She—"
Before he could finish, Carlos struck.
With a primal roar, Carlos lunged forward, his fangs flashing like silver swords. He grabbed the ghost's form by the throat and drove his energy into him, channeling pure rage and loyalty like a flame.
"I would rather die," Carlos growled low, "than betray the people I love."
With a final blast of power, Marlik's ghost shrieked, scattering into fragments of light and smoke.
Silence returned to the woods.
Carlos stood alone, chest heaving, his knuckles white from the grip he still held on his fading energy. The stench of dark magic lingered in the air.
He didn't waste a second.
---
By the time he burst into Ravenshade's grand hall, the guards nearly collided with him. Alaric was already moving toward the War Chamber when he sensed Carlos's blood-soaked aura.
"What happened?" Alaric demanded, brows furrowed.
Carlos's eyes were blazing. "He came to me."
Alaric stiffened.
"Marlik's ghost," Carlos said. "He tried to recruit me. Said I was like him. That Seraphine chose you over me… and that I should give him Caelum."
Alaric's body went rigid with fury, but Carlos lifted a hand.
"I killed him," he said firmly. "Destroyed the specter. But it wasn't just a haunting. It was a test. He's trying to form alliances. He's reaching out to those he thinks are weak."
Alaric's eyes darkened. "And he chose you."
"Because I'm close to Caelum. Because I'm close to Seraphine." Carlos locked eyes with him. "But I will never… never turn against them. You hear me?"
Alaric nodded slowly, the storm in his chest settling slightly.
"I believe you," he said. "And I'm grateful."
The two men stood there, the weight of coming war between them.
"He's building a circle," Carlos added. "This was the beginning."
Alaric turned toward the War Chamber, his voice low.
"Then we end it… before it grows."
And with that, the guardians of Caelum prepared for the shadows that had begun to gather again.