Spellbound by a Moonlit Heir

The sound of heels echoed in the empty corridor.

Caveen looked up as the doors to his private study creaked open. Madelline stood there, poised and quiet, a folded parchment in her hands.

She looked… different.

Not angry. Not desperate.

Just tired.

"I brought the papers," she said simply, stepping inside and laying them on his desk.

Caveen rose slowly from his chair, eyes drifting to the document without touching it. "You didn't have to deliver them yourself."

"I did." Her voice was calm. "I wanted to see your face when you finally let go."

Silence stretched between them. The room felt too quiet, the walls too close.

Caveen cleared his throat, walking over. "I never meant to hurt you, Madelline."

She let out a bitter laugh, more weary than sharp. "You never meant to love me either. That's the part that hurt."

He looked away.

"You married me," she continued, voice steady, "but you never came home. You slept in your study. You lived in Vile Tower more than you ever lived with me. What was I, Caveen? A cover?"

His hands clenched at his sides. "It wasn't about you."

Her brows arched. "I was your shield."

He looked at her now—really looked. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." She lifted her chin. "I'm free now. And so are you."

He said nothing, merely nodding as he took the quill beside the document and signed with steady strokes.

Caveen Vellaria Landon.

A name that now meant even less to her.

As he set the quill down, Madelline gave him one final look. "Whatever you were trying to protect… I hope it was worth it."

She turned and walked toward the door—but paused, just before leaving.

"You still don't know, do you?"

Caveen frowned. "Know what?"

she smiled—sad and distant. "Nothing. Forget it."

And with that, she was gone.

Caveen stood alone in the flickering candlelight, unaware of the secret Lysandra now carried far from his reach.

A child he did not know existed.

A future already set in motion.

And a truth waiting in silence.

Three years later

The Ravenshade Manor bathed in soft afternoon light, the gardens swaying gently in the breeze. Birds chirped lazily above the balcony while the scent of tea and warm bread lingered in the air.

It had been three years since Lysandra last stepped foot here.

Carlos opened the manor gates himself, his face breaking into a rare smile at the sight of her. "You look stronger than ever," he said, then glanced at the tiny girl gripping Lysandra's hand.

Elara.

She was radiant—soft black curls and eyes like silver ash, the same strange ethereal hue Caveen once had in moments of power.

Carlos bent down to meet her. "And who is this little lady?"

Elara stepped behind her mother's skirt, shy.

Lysandra chuckled. "Elara. My daughter."

Carlos's brows lifted, but he only nodded. "Welcome home, Elara."

Inside, Alaric waited at the long dining table, his crimson eyes unreadable. As they sat down for lunch, conversation turned casual. Carlos spoke of Seraphine's recent visit to the Landon Manor and how the political temperature within the council had quieted—for now.

But Alaric was quiet. Watching. Especially Elara.

She munched on fruit with the focus of a child in her own world. But Alaric's gaze never left her face.

After the meal, when Elara was chasing butterflies near the garden archway, Alaric finally spoke.

"Who is her father, Lysandra?"

Lysandra's smile faltered. "You already know what I told everyone—"

Alaric interrupted gently, "You told everyone it was Kylan. But you forget who you're speaking to."

She looked away, tension tightening her spine.

Alaric leaned forward, voice soft but firm. "She's the spitting image of Caveen, Lysandra. The eyes, the jaw, even the mark behind her left ear. That's not coincidence."

Her hands trembled under the table.

"She is not Kylan's child," Alaric said. "Is she?"

Lysandra met his eyes, defeated. "No," she whispered. "She's Caveen's."

Carlos inhaled sharply.

Lysandra lowered her head, her voice cracking. "Please. Don't tell him. I used a severance spell… to cut the bond. She's hidden from him—hidden from the Landon Tree. No one knows, not even Seraphine."

Alaric sat back, arms crossed. His expression was unreadable. "He has the right to know."

"And what if he finds out?" Lysandra cried. "What happens then, Alaric? The Council will descend like vultures. They'll see Elara as an abomination—a child of forbidden bloodlines. They'll want to dissect her, use her."

She stood now, voice rising with every breath. "I gave up everything to protect her. My name. My place. Her right to know her father. Don't take that from us."

Alaric was silent for a long moment. Carlos stared at the table, his jaw locked, clearly torn.

Finally, Alaric spoke, slower this time.

"You hid her for love. I understand that. But Caveen… he's not the same boy from three years ago. He grieves still. He changed. And maybe… just maybe… knowing the truth will give him reason to heal."

Lysandra looked toward the garden where Elara laughed among the butterflies. "And what if it destroys him?"

Alaric stood beside her, his tone calm, yet heavy with warning. "It won't be me who tells him. But Lysandra… secrets like this never stay buried. Especially when they carry the blood of legends."

Carlos finally stood, stepping beside her. "We won't say a word. Not unless it becomes necessary. But if something ever threatens her, you know we'll protect her too."

Lysandra nodded, eyes misty with gratitude.

Outside, Elara turned and waved. "Mama!"

Lysandra smiled, trying to push down the fear that bubbled in her chest.

For now, her daughter was safe.

But for how long?