The dawn was quiet but tense. Mist curled around the stone pillars of the Landon estate, clinging to the sharp edges of consequence that hung in the air.
A carriage stood ready in the courtyard, its black-and-silver crest of Moonwell glinting faintly in the early light. Two elite guards waited by the horses, stiff and alert.
Lysandra descended the main steps in silence, her long silver cloak fluttering behind her. Her hair, loose and wind-tousled, shimmered like starlight—a symbol of her Moonwell birthright.
Caveen stood near the carriage, already prepared to escort her. He wore a dark coat with silver clasps, his sword strapped at his side—not just for honor, but protection. His presence was a statement: She does not leave as a disgraced bride. She leaves as Moonwell's heir. And mine.
From the entrance hall, Lady Jane watched with a stiff jaw and narrowed eyes. Celestine stood beside her in a regal lavender gown, arms folded across her chest.
"Is this truly necessary?" Lady Jane asked, voice cutting through the cold morning.
"Escorting her is unnecessary," Celestine added, her tone sweetly bitter. "She's no longer engaged. There's no claim to her anymore."
Maika appeared behind them, her arms crossed. "And yet she leaves with a guard and a prince," she said coolly. "I'd say that's more than a claim—it's a warning."
Carl chuckled darkly from the side. "Best you stay on the steps, Lady Jane. You're outnumbered here in both swords and spine."
Lady Jane turned crimson but said nothing.
Lysandra turned, her gaze settling on Celestine. "Don't worry. I won't stay in the way of your Council-sanctioned engagement."
Celestine arched an eyebrow. "No need to sound bitter. It's politics."
"No," Lysandra replied, her voice calm and sharp. "It's cowardice wrapped in tradition."
Before either woman could speak again, Caveen stepped forward and opened the carriage door.
"Ready?" he asked her softly.
Lysandra looked up at him, nodding. "Yes."
As she stepped inside, he followed. But just before the door closed, Celestine called out.
"So this is it? You run back home? Like a defeated girl?"
Caveen's voice answered from inside, cold and final.
"She returns as the future matriarch of the Moonwell clan. Not as your rival—but as your sovereign."
The carriage door shut with a quiet click.
Lady Jane's fists clenched.
Celestine looked away, but not before Maika noticed the tremble in her lashes—an unspoken frustration or fear.
The horses began to move, the wheels crunching softly over the gravel.
From inside the carriage, Lysandra stared forward, silent for a while. Caveen sat beside her, close but not touching.
"You don't have to come with me," she said quietly.
"I do," he answered. "Not because I have to… but because I promised I would protect you. That hasn't changed."
Lysandra looked down. "It's dangerous. The Council's watching everything now. Your association with me..."
"I don't care what they think," Caveen cut in gently. "You're not some liability. Remember you carry my child."
She turned toward him then, her voice softer. "I hate leaving like this."
"I know."
"I hate knowing they won."
"They haven't."
Silence settled for a beat.
Then Lysandra added, "You shouldn't fight the Council, too risky."
Caveen met her eyes. "I won't fight alone. I'll fight with you for the child. That's the difference."
She blinked, and her voice cracked. "For our child"
As the carriage rolled to a halt at the grand entrance, the gates were already open. Standing there, solemn and radiant in their ceremonial robes, were Lord Thalor Moonwell and Lady Ilyra Moonwell—Lysandra's parents.
Their expressions were calm, but the tension in their stance gave them away.
Caveen stepped out of the carriage first, offering his hand to Lysandra.
She took it.
But she didn't let go.
Not even when they approached her parents.
"My Lord, My Lady," Caveen greeted respectfully.
"Your Highness Caveen," Thalor said, voice deep but tempered, "you honor us with your presence."
"We've been expecting you," Lady Ilyra added gently, her sharp eyes flicking to Lysandra's abdomen—no bulge yet, but she already knew.
Maika had informed them.
And now, they would play the most dangerous game of all: deception in front of the Council.
"Lysandra, my sweet," Lady Ilyra said, drawing her daughter in for a hug. It was warmer than expected. "Come. You must be exhausted."
Lysandra allowed the embrace, whispering softly, "Thank you for letting me return."
"You were never not welcome," her mother replied. "No matter what they say."
Lord Thalor turned to Caveen. "We are aware of the Council's directive. And we are… displeased." His voice dropped. "But we are also prepared."
Caveen's brow furrowed. "Maika told you?"
"Everything," Thalor nodded. "The attempt to replace Lysandra. The reason they fear the child. The return of the regenerative Moonwell magic—" He glanced at his daughter with a rare softness. "—and what that could mean for all of us."
"We cannot let the Council discover the child," Lady Ilyra said with quiet steel.
"We will act as though you came only to return Lysandra to her proper place," Thalor continued. "The Council watches. Even here. But our estate is warded. Sacred ground. They will see what we want them to see."
Lysandra's voice cracked, though she kept her eyes dry. "You're… not sending me away because you agree with them?"
Lady Ilyra stepped forward, brushing Lysandra's cheek. "No, darling. We're protecting you the only way we can. You'll remain here under the guise of reflection and clan preparation. And you will not leave until it is safe."
Caveen straightened. "And me?"
"You return to the Landon estate," Thalor said. "Pretend compliance. Let them proceed with their little pageant. Let them believe they've won."
Lady Ilyra's voice dropped. "The child must grow without threat. And if what Maika believes is true, that child will be powerful enough to rewrite fate itself."
"But you'll be separated," Thalor admitted. "And that… will be the hardest part."
A silence settled between them.
The kind of silence before a storm.
He pulled her into a slow, firm embrace. "They can play their games. But they won't touch you. Not here. Not ever." He promised.
Then Caveen return to the Landon Estate.
Moonwell Inner Chamber, Nightfall
Later, in the sanctum, Thalor, Ilyra, and Lysandra gathered around a rune-glass map table. The surface flickered with magical runes as Maika's last message pulsed in its center.
Lady Ilyra's voice was low. "The child may inherit the blood of the Moonwell, the Nexus, and the Carellos. A trinity of forgotten power."
Thalor added, "If the child awakens the regenerative magic… the Council will either try to control it…"
"Or destroy it," Lysandra finished.
They all knew the stakes.
And so the Moonwell Estate closed its gates that night—not just as a home for Lysandra, but as a fortress for the future.