The sun had not shone properly in days. Ravenshade was cloaked in a heavy stillness, broken only by the sobs of a child and the silence of a grieving mother. The death of Kylan had shaken the estate to its core.
Lysandra stood by the window of the east wing, Elara clutched against her hip, her small arms wrapped tightly around her mother's neck. Her sobs had faded into hiccuping sniffles, but her wide eyes remained damp with sorrow. Below, the freshly turned earth of Kylan's grave still looked raw, as though the land itself had not yet accepted the loss.
"He always said we were his world," Lysandra whispered, her fingers brushing Elara's curls. "And we let him die."
Alaric stood by the door, his jaw clenched, eyes storm-dark. "He died protecting you both. And he did it without hesitation."
"That's what makes it hurt more," she murmured. "He wasn't even the father. But he loved her as if she were his own."
Carlos leaned in the doorway beside Alaric, silent. He had wept during the burial, and in private again later that night. He had seen countless deaths in his long life, but few had struck him this deep. Kylan had not just been a guardian. He had been light in an increasingly dark world.
Ravenshade had gone on high alert since the attack. Wards had been tripled, guards posted at all points of entry, and magical surveillance now stretched to the edges of the forest. Elara had not been allowed outside since the incident. She no longer asked to.
Lysandra sat in the nursery that night, Elara curled against her chest, asleep. She looked at the ceiling, blinking away tears. "I should have told Caveen," she whispered to the walls. "He should have known."
A knock at the door broke the silence. A raven, its wings streaked with silver, perched just outside the window. It cawed once, a magical signature embedded in the cry. Carlos appeared within seconds.
"The Council's movements?" Lysandra asked, rising.
Carlos nodded grimly. "Worse. The message came from a Carello scout. News has reached Caveen."
Lysandra's heart dropped. Her legs weakened beneath her. She barely made it to the chair before collapsing.
"How?"
"He heard of Kylan's death. From a Seer who saw it in a dream. Caveen knows."
Lysandra pressed her fingers to her lips. "Does he know about Elara?"
Carlos hesitated. "Not directly. But he's asking questions. About why Kylan died and Why a child was targeted."
Alaric entered the room, his aura buzzing with restrained fury. "If Caveen comes here and finds the truth from someone else's mouth, it will shatter him."
Lysandra buried her face in her hands. "I never wanted this. I wanted her safe. The severance spell, the lies—it was all to protect her."
"And now Kylan is dead because of those lies," Alaric said softly, without accusation, just the weight of reality.
---
Months had passed since the burial of Kylan, the man who had once stood like a mountain between Lysandra and the world. The grief had softened, but it left a lingering shadow in the corners of Ravenshade Manor—especially in Elara's nursery, where silence often replaced laughter.
That morning, the sun barely broke through the thick gray clouds as the gates of Ravenshade creaked open once more. The hooves of the arriving carriage tapped rhythmically against the stone, stirring dust and old memories alike.
From the tall windows above, Lysandra stood watching.
"They're here," she murmured, hand resting gently on Elara's shoulder.
The little girl looked up from her glowing rabbit toy. "Mama, are they nice?"
Lysandra didn't answer at first. Her gaze remained fixed on the elegant black carriage bearing the golden crest of the Landon estate.
"She is," she said quietly. "She used to be… my second mother."
---
The carriage door opened with a metallic click, and two women stepped out.
Seraphine moved with grace, her pale lavender gown fluttering in the breeze, but it was the woman behind her who made the air feel heavier. Maika.
Clad in black silk with subtle crimson embroidery, her presence carried authority and ache. Silver strands threaded through her thick black hair, but her eyes—crimson and piercing—remained ageless. Eyes that mirrored Caveen's.
Lysandra descended the front steps with Elara in hand, the wind catching the hem of her gown as she approached them.
Seraphine smiled. "Lysandra. It's been too long."
Lysandra gave her a short nod, then looked at the woman beside her. Her throat tightened. "Lady Maika."
Maika's gaze softened, and for a moment, Lysandra could see the woman she remembered that stood like a shield against the cruelty of others.
"Lysandra," Maika said, stepping forward slowly. "You've become everything I once hoped for."
Lysandra said nothing, only took a breath and gently guided Elara forward. "This is Elara," she said, voice quieter now. "My daughter."
Maika's gaze shifted down. The moment she saw the child, something in her heart twisted.
Elara had Lysandra's softness, yes—but her eyes… they glowed with something deeper. Echoes of a bloodline Maika once bled for. A lineage lost and reborn.
"She's beautiful," Maika said, kneeling slightly to be eye-level with the girl. "May I?"
Elara looked to her mother. Lysandra hesitated, then gave a nod.
Maika gently extended her hand. Elara reached out and placed her small palm over the older woman's.
The moment they touched, Maika felt it.
A flicker. A faint ripple of power.
Something ancient. Buried. Familiar.
Her breath caught.
Magic. Not just any magic—something sealed. Something carefully hidden behind layers of protective spells.
And not just witch magic. Something darker. Wilder. Older.
Her fingers lingered a moment longer, instinctually brushing the child's skin.
But before she could press further, Lysandra's hand reached forward and swiftly pulled Elara back.
"I think that's enough," she said, more sternly than she intended.
Elara blinked, confused.
Maika slowly stood, her expression unreadable. "She's… warm," she said simply.
Lysandra nodded stiffly. "She gets that from Kylan."
Maika's eyes flickered at the name. "I heard."
A long silence followed. Even Seraphine turned somber.
"He was a brave man," Maika added. "I'm sorry. For both of you."
Lysandra's throat tightened. "He died protecting Elara. Until his very last breath."
Maika looked at the child again, then back to Lysandra. "Then I owe him my gratitude."