The moon hung high, casting silver light over Lysandra's bed as she lay pale and trembling.
Her breathing came in shallow waves.
Her skin, once vibrant with the soft glow of Moonwell blood, now looked fragile, like frost-kissed petals wilting in shadow.
Lady Moonwell sat beside her, pressing a damp cloth to her forehead.
"Her aura is flickering," whispered the elder healer. "The child inside pulls strength from her… but something else weakens her spirit."
Lady Moonwell nodded solemnly, brushing strands of Lysandra's golden hair from her face.
> "It's him," she murmured. "She's bonded too deeply. The farther he is, the weaker she becomes."
A dangerous truth—one born of magic and blood.
The bond between Lysandra and Caveen wasn't just about the child.
It was ancient. Cosmic.
A tether of soul to soul.
And now it was fraying.
---
Landon Estate – Caveen's Study,
Caveen read the letter once.
Then again.
Then again.
His fingers trembled only slightly as he gripped the parchment from Lady Moonwell. It was short and formal, but her words echoed with alarm.
> Lysandra grows weaker by the hour. The child remains strong, but she cannot sustain this alone. The Moonwell magic within her is stirring. She calls for you.
He closed his eyes. Every instinct screamed.
Every inch of his body longed to run to her.
But the Council's watchful eye shadowed his every move.
A knock came. Celestine's voice followed.
"Caveen, your transport to the High Council conference is ready."
He turned toward the door. "Cancel it."
"What? But—"
"I have a prior mission," he said coolly, striding out of the chamber. "The human realm reports an anomaly in hybrid development. I'll investigate personally."
---
Cloaked in illusion, Caveen's carriage took the long route, veering away from the Capital and the Council's view.
He rode with silence as his only companion, eyes blazing with a singular purpose.
The moment he arrived at the gates of Moonwell Estate, the guards parted without question.
He didn't knock.
Didn't wait for permission.
He burst into her chambers like thunder.
---
She stirred weakly under the blanket. The moment her half-lidded eyes saw him—saw him—her lips parted with a gasp of disbelief.
"...Caveen?"
"I'm here," he said, already kneeling beside her bed, pulling her into his arms.
She clung to him instantly, her fingers fisting his shirt, like she'd feared he was just a dream.
"I thought… you weren't allowed to come," she whispered, voice cracked and hoarse.
"I'm not," he said softly. "But I'll never let a council of cowards keep me from you."
Her tears fell then, warm against his skin as he kissed her temple.
---
"The child is strong," the healer said with awe. "But the aura of both mother and child are now synchronized with the presence of the father."
Lady Moonwell nodded, gravely. "That is why she weakens in his absence."
Maika, who stood silently in the corner, crossed her arms. "They're soul-bound. The child inside carries traits beyond just elite blood—it may be a conduit. That's why the Council fears them."
Lady Moonwell looked at Caveen. "You must stay hidden. But you must stay."
Caveen nodded. "I won't leave until she fully regained her strength."
---
She slept peacefully now, her color returning little by little.
Caveen sat beside her, holding her hand, his thumb brushing her knuckles as though memorizing every inch of her.
"I should have known," he whispered into the quiet. "We were never meant to be apart."
Lysandra stirred slightly. "You came back…"
"Always," he said, laying his hand gently against hers.
She smiled faintly in her sleep, her fingers curling tighter around his.
And outside, under the moonlight, the stars whispered of a child not yet born…
a child destined to shake the very balance of the elite world.
---
Caveen stood alone beneath a carved stone archway, sipping what was left of his wine, his thoughts heavier than the night air.
Footsteps approached—calm, unhurried.
Kylan.
Caveen didn't turn to look, but he felt the magic stirring faintly in the air, like the hum of a charged storm. Kylan was powerful. Not just in skill, but in presence.
"You've been quiet, Your Highness," Kylan said, voice smooth like velvet over steel.
Caveen took a slow sip before replying. "Shouldn't you be gone by now? I'm here already for her"
Kylan chuckled. "Ah. There it is."
He stepped closer, stopping just a few paces behind Caveen.
"I'll admit," Kylan continued, "I didn't expect the mighty hybrid prince to be so… possessive. Is that a vampire trait or a Lycan flaw?"
Caveen turned now, slowly, facing him. The silver in his eyes gleamed faintly in the moonlight.
"You came for her. You weren't needed. And now you're here asking the wrong questions."
Kylan smiled. "And yet, you're the one answering."
They stared at each other for a moment—silence stretching taut like a drawn bowstring.
"She was mine first," Kylan said, casually brushing a hand along a rose bush. "Before the titles. Before anything. I knew her laughter before the world crushed it. I saw her when no one else did."
"She told me," Caveen replied coolly. "She also told me she said no."
Kylan's smile twitched, just slightly.
"And now you think that means she's yours?" Kylan's voice dipped lower, no longer teasing. "Do you think putting a ring on her finger makes you understand her? Makes you worthy of her?"
Caveen didn't flinch. "No. But if she chose me. She chose this life. And whatever I am, whatever burden I carry—I'd bear it twice if it meant protecting her."
Kylan's eyes flickered with something unreadable—pain, perhaps, or recognition. "She doesn't need protecting. She needs freedom."
"And yet she stays," Caveen said softly. "With me."
That silenced Kylan for a beat. The mage looked away, exhaling slowly as if forcing the bitterness down his throat.
"She was never meant to be a pawn in this war," he said at last. "The Moonwells didn't raise her to be a consort or a mother to a weapon."
Caveen's voice lowered into a growl. "She's not a pawn. And neither is our child."
Kylan's gaze snapped to him.
"So it's true," he murmured. "She's carrying your child."
Caveen's hand twitched near his coat, but he didn't deny it.
"I wonder," Kylan continued, a dangerous glint in his eyes, "if the Council knew that—if they knew the bloodlines you're merging—they'd burn this union to the ground."
"Let them try," Caveen said, stepping closer, his power flaring briefly beneath his skin. "You're not the only one who can burn things down."
The two stood inches apart now—two storms barely contained.
Then Kylan leaned in, voice low but calm.
"She still trusts me. Still tells me things she doesn't say out loud. Don't forget that, Prince. One day, she might need me more than she needs you."
Caveen's jaw tensed, but he didn't respond.
Instead, he stepped back, eyes like flint. "You can stay. For now. But if you become a threat to her peace, mage or not… I'll end you."
Kylan blinked slowly, then gave a small, amused bow.
"Fair warning. I'll give you one in return."
He turned to leave, pausing just before he vanished into the shadows.
"Don't underestimate love, Caveen. It doesn't always favor the bold. Sometimes it chooses the one who stays... longest."
And just like that, he was gone.
Caveen stood in the moonlit silence, his pulse steady—but his chest was tight.
This wasn't over.
Not by a long shot.