The torches burned low, casting flickering shadows across the vast marble hall of Valus's ancient den. Gothic arches loomed overhead, echoing the weight of centuries. Once a sanctuary for grim diplomacy and darker secrets, tonight it pulsed with something far more dangerous.
Truth.
Maika sat near the hearth, Carl beside her, and between them—silent, observant, and unnervingly still—was Caveen. The boy's sharp eyes scanned the room, his presence quiet but not invisible. He didn't fidget like a child. He watched like someone who knew what it meant to be hunted.
Then—
Creeeaaaak…
The great doors groaned open.
The scent of pine, cold earth, and iron swept through like a storm's first breath. All eyes turned.
Three figures stepped into the hall.
Merca of the Northern Wilds led the way, her long silver braids wrapped like battle-hardened serpents, her aura regal and wild. Beside her walked Jacob—Carl's father—his eyes a stormy gray etched with years of war and loss. And trailing them was Nadia, tall and lithe, her every step a challenge, her fire barely leashed.
Carl stood immediately, voice taut. "Aunt Merca. Father. Mother."
Merca didn't waste time. "You said it was urgent. Where is he?"
Caveen rose to his feet.
He didn't hide behind his mother. Didn't cower behind Carl. He walked forward and looked them all in the eye.
"Nana. Grandfather. Grandmother," he said softly.
And then he hugged them.
For a heartbeat, the air shifted. Merca's hard face cracked. Jacob's breath caught. Nadia's fire dimmed into something softer.
But the moment didn't last.
"You said there was more," Merca said sharply, her voice returning to steel. "Something about truth. Family. What is this really about, Carl?"
Before Carl could speak—
Another presence entered the hall.
Lord Valus.
Towering. Cold. Regal. His white hair shimmered under the torchlight, his eyes like carved obsidian.
Behind him came Queen Vantessa of the Witches, draped in royal violet. Her entourage flowed behind her like shadows. Then came Lady Merrine, unreadable as ever. And following her—Prince Malko and Anne, walking in quiet step.
Merca's gaze sharpened. "You invited the witches? And the vampires?"
"I didn't," Carl said. "They came because they had to."
Valus's voice cut through the rising tension like a blade.
"We are all here… because of him."
He gestured to Caveen.
"Because of what his existence means."
Nadia stepped forward protectively, slipping between Merca and Jacob like a sword drawn from its sheath.
"If this is a threat—"
"No," Queen Vantessa said, calm and cold. "This is a warning. And a plea. We want to protect him."
Maika rose slowly, hands raised—not in fear, but in truth.
"Let me speak."
The room shifted, ancient enemies pausing, their claws retracted but ready. Suspicion swirled in the air like smoke. Yet they listened.
"I was once human," Maika began. "My name was Aster. I was adopted by Lady Vienna and raised under the care of the witches. I fell in love with Carl. We married… and our son, Caveen, was born."
A shocked breath escaped Nadia's lips. "You're—Aster?"
Carl stepped forward. "She lost her memories after being turned. I didn't even know who she truly was… until it was too late."
Merca's eyes locked on Caveen. "You kept this from us. Our grandson."
"We had no choice," Maika whispered. "The truth could've destroyed him. The Council would never allow a child like him to exist—part witch, part Lycan, part vampire."
A ripple of gasps spread through the room.
And then—Valus spoke again.
"She's not just your daughter-in-law," he said, voice like thunder wrapped in velvet. "She is my daughter. Born of Vienna and I. A child that should never have been… yet was."
He turned to Caveen.
"And that boy is the culmination of three ancient bloodlines. Lycan. Witch. Vampire. He is what the Council feared most."
Silence.
The kind of silence that screams.
Even Jacob, hardened by decades of war, looked shaken. Nadia fell into her seat, her sword limp in her hand.
Merca didn't move. But her voice cracked. "You hid him to protect him."
Carl nodded. "And we still failed. The Council found him. They took him. Tested him. And now they're watching."
Merrine's voice cut in, sharp but not unkind. "You should have told us."
Valus's answer was immediate. "And risked him being killed in his cradle? Risked civil war between the clans? I chose silence because it was the only way to keep him alive."
Queen Vantessa stepped toward Caveen. Her eyes gleamed gold, ancient and knowing.
"I felt it the moment I met him. He carries the faint blood of the Carellos—dark magic once buried in Maika, now blooming in him."
"Carellos…?" Merca breathed. "Black magic?"
"Yes," Vantessa confirmed. "But dormant… until Maika broke the anklet that suppressed her power."
Maika stood straighter. "We are not dark magic users. But we carry it. And so does he."
Jacob looked at Caveen. Not as a threat. Not as a weapon. But as a child. His child's child.
"You're still just a boy," he said softly. "Ours. No matter the blood you carry."
Something flickered in Caveen's eyes. Something fragile.
Carl turned to all of them.
"Then help us. Help us protect him. No more secrets. No more politics. No more choosing sides. Just… family."
The silence that followed was heavier than before.
Then—
Merca stepped forward.
And knelt.
"You are my grandson," she said, voice thick. "And I will stand by you. Come what may."
Jacob followed. Nadia, silent, wiped a tear from her cheek.
Valus gave them a nod. "Then perhaps this child has already done what no ruler ever could."
He looked around.
"United us."
The fire crackled.
Old enemies stood not as rivals… but as kin.
And high above, the wind howled through the eaves of Valus's den, carrying the whispers of a prophecy still unfolding.