Oldman Nightshade sat at the head of the grand final dining table—the ancestral seat of the family's patriarch. Around him, loyal servants and silent guards moved like shadows, familiar fixtures in the vast and ancient Nightshade estate.
One by one, the family gathered.
Oldman Nightshade had taken three wives in his long life, but the children of his first wife were considered the principal bloodline, the ones who lived under the ancestral roof. Of those, two sons were present tonight.
Michael Lark Nightshade, the family's crown prince, had once married two noblewomen—both lost in childbirth. His current wife, Natale, a Mer raised within the Nightshade household since childhood, now sat quietly beside him. Michael had two sons: Forrest Michael Nightshade and Danial Lark Nightshade.
Then there was Dominic Nightingale Nightshade, the younger son. His first wife, the late Salena Rhowshen Hall, had been the formidable Tower Master of the South Magic Tower and mother of Seraphina. His second wife, Demiska Serpent Casova, a modest Spirit Master and a Mer herself, sat further down the table.
Decades ago, magic had undergone a revolution—the creation of the Mers, a magical surrogate race born through magical science. Lab-grown at first, Mers had since become a natural lineage—physically weaker perhaps, but spiritually potent and gifted in magic. Over time, they had earned their place as equals.
The family had just taken their seats when footsteps echoed through the hall.
Dimitry descended the stairs, tousled and bleary-eyed, followed closely by Setaro, equally disheveled. The two had clearly returned from a night of indulgence.
Oldman Nightshade raised a brow at Setaro, but said nothing. His look, however, was sharp—laden with grudges long buried but never forgotten. The fallout between the Nightshades and the Hall family had carved deep scars. And yet, the younger generation remained stubbornly close, blind to that bitter history.
His gaze shifted to the empty seat beside him—Seraphina's seat. He sighed, the lines of his face hardening with disappointment. It had been years since he'd last seen his granddaughter. His eyes flicked to Dominic, who toyed carelessly with a flicker of fire magic, entirely unbothered.
"Useless," the old man thought. "He can't even bring his daughter back."
Suddenly, a demonic green eagle screeched overhead—an announcement spell.
Oldman Nightshade straightened, ready to reprimand his son—until a soft, melodic voice floated into the room, freezing him mid-thought.
"Dad, you called me?"
All heads turned.
At the entrance stood Seraphina.
Dominic looked up—and froze. She wore a man's shirt drenched in the scent of Asher, cinched at the waist with his belt. Her hair was loosely tied with a green ribbon. Despite her effort to conceal it, traces of a wild night clung to her—most damning of all, the bold, unmistakable hickey on her neck.
Fury flared in Dominic's eyes.
"That damned purple-haired brat dared touch her—before she turned eighteen?"
Dimitry and Setaro snapped to attention, the haze of sleep vanishing.
Seraphina's appearance stunned them both.
Dimitry's fists clenched. He'd always assumed Seraphina was immune to romance. So… she did care for someone—and it wasn't him.
Setaro, who had known about Asher, still felt his chest tighten painfully. The girl he'd loved all his life now bore another man's mark.
Seraphina's gaze softened as it met her father's. A wave of old memories surged. In another life, he had died—his body giving up after an overdose of a depression drug created by Dimitry. She hadn't saved him.
She rushed forward and wrapped her arms tightly around him.
"Dad, are you angry?" she murmured, snuggling into his warmth.
Dominic didn't speak. Instead, he conjured a glowing charm between his fingers and pressed it into her palm.
A birth control charm.
Seraphina blushed furiously but accepted it in silence.
Dimitry's jaw dropped.
Seraphina Nightingale Nightshade—bashful? Affectionate? It was surreal. She had never looked at him like that.
Setaro winced. His Mystan curse—the gift of perceiving truth—flared, pain shooting behind his eyes. He groaned and clutched his head.
Seraphina noticed. Her expression softened. She stepped forward and gently touched his silver hair. A warm, golden light bloomed from her hand.
The pain vanished.
The room went dead silent.
She had used magic.
After years of hiding her abilities, Seraphina had cast a spell—calm, precise, and powerfully controlled.
Setaro looked up at her, tears dampening his lashes.
She was back.
But not for him.
Seraphina tilted her head, puzzled. She had always been terrible at reading people.
"He does look tempting," she mused.
Setaro's ears turned crimson. Had she just… thought that?
He looked down, flustered.
Dominic yanked her back protectively, stepping in front of her like a possessive beast.
"Don't touch strange men," he said coldly. "Don't touch any man. Ever. Except me—your father."
Seraphina's face turned beet red. "Dad…!"
Was he serious? She didn't even know what to say.
Dominic glared daggers at Setaro, muttering darkly.
Setaro winced. Honestly, hearing everyone's secrets was easier than surviving this.
Dimitry narrowed his eyes as well. He didn't know Setaro's feelings—but he didn't like the way Seraphina had touched him.
At the far end, Demiska turned pale. Seraphina had used her magic again—and the weight of her presence was terrifying.
She trembled, remembering Salena's last words to Seraphina:
"Never take revenge, my child."
Demiska clung to that vow. It was the only thing that still protected her.
Oldman Nightshade cleared his throat, drawing the room's attention.
"So, where have you been these past few days, Princess?" he asked, voice deceptively gentle. "Your servants claimed you weren't in your mansion."
Seraphina glanced at her teasing cousins, cheeks still pink.
"I was with… Ash."
Danial's eyebrows shot up.
"'Ash,' huh?" he echoed, grinning.
Seraphina flushed an even deeper red.
Forrest chuckled softly. She was starting to resemble her younger self again. It was… a good sign.
Even Michael nodded. Perhaps that Hall boy wasn't so bad. If he could bring light back into their butterfly…
Dominic snorted.
"Hmph. My precious little girl is getting stolen, and you all act like it's a fairytale."
Dimitry's scowl deepened.
Who is this Ash?
Why does everyone else know but me?
And worse still—
He already hated him.
Oldman Nightshade beckoned with surprising warmth.
"Sera, come sit beside me," he said, gently rubbing her head.
"So… my granddaughter has finally decided this world is worthy of her magic, hmm?"
Seraphina lowered her gaze.
His words pierced her.
She had been reckless. Immature. Careless with her power—and with the people she loved. She had let life hurt her, mock her, twist her. She'd won battles against the world, perhaps…
This time… she would live.