The Landon Estate sat like a crown atop the emerald hills, basking in the golden morning light. The gates opened with a soft whirr as the sleek black car rolled onto the gravel path, its engine humming low beneath the chirping birds.
Caveen leaned back in the driver's seat, loosening his tie. The past few weeks had been a blur of board meetings, legal consultations, and territorial negotiations in the human realm. His name was becoming synonymous with power in the business world—but even so, nothing could match the comfort of this estate, the one place that still felt untouched by time and corruption.
He turned off the engine and stepped out, adjusting his cuffs. The smell of roses hit him immediately—Maika's favorite.
Just as he reached for his duffel bag in the trunk, movement near the orchard caught his eye.
A little girl with wild silver curls danced barefoot on the grass, chasing butterflies that glowed faintly in the morning sun. She laughed as they escaped her reach, the sound bubbling like a spring.
Caveen froze.
The air shifted.
She twirled and paused when she noticed him watching. Their eyes locked for a brief second—hers wide and curious, silver like the moon but warm like sunlight.
Before he could say a word, Maika appeared, walking briskly toward the child.
"Elara!" Maika called gently. "You'll catch cold in the dew. Come, breakfast is ready."
Elara ran to her, wrapping her arms around Maika's waist.
Caveen blinked, confused.
That child…
She looked just like someone he couldn't place.
---
Inside the Estate
The long mahogany dining table was already lined with warm bread, cheese, and fresh fruits when Caveen stepped in. Carl stood near the windows with a newspaper in hand, while Elara was climbing into a chair with all the authority of someone who belonged there.
"Morning," Caveen said, brushing his coat sleeve as he entered.
Carl smiled faintly. "You made it earlier than expected."
"Finished meetings ahead of schedule," Caveen said. "Figured I'd sneak in a proper breakfast for once."
His eyes went back to the child. She was now spreading jam on toast, lips pursed in concentration.
"Who's the girl?" he asked, casually pouring himself a cup of coffee.
Carl looked at Maika.
Maika responded smoothly. "She's staying with us for now. Her mother is... traveling."
Caveen narrowed his eyes, gaze fixed on the girl. "Doesn't look like a guest. She looks at home."
Maika gave a cryptic smile. "She should. She's family."
"Whose daughter is she?" he asked, more sharply now.
Before Carl could speak, Maika turned to the little girl. "Elara, sweetheart, say good morning to Uncle Caveen."
Elara looked up with shining eyes and smiled. "Good morning, Uncle Caveen!"
Caveen blinked at the word. Uncle?
He forced a smile. "Good morning, Elara."
She beamed at him, then went back to her toast as if nothing had passed between them.
Caveen sat slowly, his mind racing.
---
Later That Day
The business tycoon in him kept trying to let it go.
But the man—the son, the grandson, the one who had once dared fall in love—couldn't.
Caveen wandered the edge of the orchard, his tablet abandoned in the study. The warm wind stirred his coat as he paused beneath the shade of the willow tree.
"Elara?" he called softly.
She looked up from a flower crown she was making. "Yes, Uncle?"
He knelt beside her. "You know my name?"
She nodded. "Nana Maika told me. And you're in charge of the Landon buildings in the big world, right?"
He smiled. "I guess that's one way to put it."
"I want to go there someday. Papa says I'll be strong enough soon."
Caveen paused. "Your papa?"
Elara nodded. "His name is Kylan. He's brave, and fast, and he fights monsters."
"Kylan…" Caveen repeated the name, familiar. A strange tightness formed in his chest.
"He's not here right now," Elara continued with a sigh. "He's in somewhere far now."
Caveen studied her.
Kylan.
But something didn't sit right.
This child—Elara—looked nothing like a stranger.
She looked like him.
She looked like Lysandra.
Even the way she furrowed her brows when she was thinking—he'd seen it in a mirror before.
And the aura around her—it pulsed like ancient magic, deeply rooted. Not ordinary, not human. Not even purely witch or vampire. It was… unique.
Bloodline magic.
His hands clenched slightly.
"Elara," he asked gently, "do you know your mother's name?"
The girl tilted her head. "Nana says I shouldn't say it too much. But I know. Her name is Lysandra."
Caveen's heart skipped a beat.
He inhaled sharply but forced a smile. "That's a beautiful name."
"She's beautiful too," Elara said with pride. "Like the moon. But sadder."
He couldn't speak. He simply stood, nodding absently.
"Uncle Caveen?" Elara called behind him.
"Yes?"
"I like your eyes," she said. "They remind me of me."
Inside the Study
Caveen paced in silence, gripping the edges of the fireplace mantel.
Carl entered without a word, pouring a drink for both of them.
"You're starting to see it, aren't you?" Carl said finally.
"I don't want to assume," Caveen replied hoarsely.
"But you already have."
"She's my daughter, isn't she?" he asked, voice raw. "And Lysandra… Lysandra kept this from me?"
"She didn't keep it forever," Carl said calmly. "She asked Maika to protect Elara. Said the Council must never find out. There's a spell hiding her aura—but it's thinning. You sensed her even through it. She looks like you. And she knows it too."
Caveen turned, fury and heartbreak battling in his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Maika's voice entered from the doorway. "Because it wasn't our story to tell."
He looked at her, searching her face for betrayal.
Maika stepped closer. "Lysandra wanted to tell you herself. She still does. She's just… not ready. And the moment you know, everything will change. You know that, Caveen."
"I already know," he whispered, rubbing a hand over his face. "I knew the moment she smiled at me."