The moon was high, casting pale silver across the shattered ruins of the Council's former stronghold. Ashes still clung to broken stone. Power echoes long extinguished.
But something stirred beneath the rubble.
A shadow.
A heartbeat.
A whisper.
From the deepest part of the earth where the forbidden vaults once stood, a hidden mirror shimmered to life—the Seer's Mirror, a relic the Council thought lost. It cracked softly, revealing a vision only one could see.
And the one who saw it… was Malrik.
---
Malrik the Soul-Binder.
Once a high-ranking mage exiled for forbidden soulcraft—long believed dead.
But he had merely waited.
Waited for power to shift.
Waited for the day the Council would fall.
And now, he stood with a sinister smile, watching through the mirror's smoky surface.
> "So… the girl survived," he murmured, his voice deep, velvet, and cruel.
"And not only that… she gaves birth to his child."
He stepped forward, his cloak of shadow slithering around his feet like smoke.
> "A Nexus child. Touched by Vampire, Lycan, Witch… and now carrying the heir of the last Elven royal.The soul of the first Vampire"
"A being of impossible bloodlines."
He lifted his hand, and dark blue flames danced across his palm.
> "No wonder the Council feared her."
He laughed softly, the sound bone-chilling.
---
The Sanctuary was silent.
Seraphine sat alone in the cradle of candlelight, the flickering glow bathing her delicate features in gold. Her body was still recovering, aching from the birth, but her soul clung fiercely to the warmth bundled in her arms.
Her son.
Her Caelum.
Her heaven.
His tiny breaths were steady. His lashes fluttered over flushed cheeks. His fragile fingers curled over the lace of her nightgown like he never wanted to let go.
She smiled faintly. The kind of smile that only bloomed after the storm—the kind of smile one gives when they've fought like hell and still managed to keep something pure.
"You're safe now," she whispered, brushing her lips gently against his brow. "Nothing can take you from me."
But even as she spoke the words…
The air changed.
It was subtle at first.
A ripple. Like a drop of water in still glass. A shift that prickled along her spine and set her heart racing without reason.
Seraphine stilled.
Her breath caught in her throat.
The hairs on her arms stood on end.
Something was wrong.
Carlos sat nearby, his eyes constantly scanning the windows. Something felt… off.
> "Do you feel that?" he whispered to Caveen.
Caveen nodded grimly.
> "Yes. A shift in the ether. Someone is watching."
Carlos rose.
> "He's here. Whoever it is… he knows about the child."
---
That night, the flames in the sanctuary died without wind.
The shadows twisted unnaturally.
Carlos and Caveen ran outside only to find a dark sigil burned into the ground near the sanctuary gate. A mark of the old soul-binding arts.
Carlos paled.
> "No. Not him… not Malrik."
Maika stepped out, her eyes wide in fear.
> "That man was banished by the witches and marked by the Lycan kings. If he's returned…"
Carl growled, fangs bared.
> "Then he seeks one thing: the child."
---
Why the child?
Malrik needed a vessel.
A perfect vessel strong enough to contain the stolen powers of ancient Elites—he had tried and failed for decades. But the child of Seraphine and Alaric? With bloodlines spanning Lycan, Elven, Carello black magic, and Vampire royalty?
It would be unstoppable.
If it were to fall into his hands, he could use ancient rites to extract the child's soul and turn the body into a living artifact of power.
He would become immortal. A god.
But for now, He awaits for the right time.
The seasons changed, but the Sanctuary never did.
Its towering white spires still stood proudly against the horizon, untouched by time. But inside its quiet halls, a miracle—and a mystery—was growing faster than the world could keep up.
Caelum was only four years old.
And yet…
He already looked like he was thirteen.
His eyes were a mirror of Alaric's—deep silver with flecks of midnight—and they shimmered with wisdom no child should possess. His skin glowed with a faint golden hue, and his laughter carried an almost ethereal echo. The boy ran with inhuman speed, healed from cuts before the blood could fall, and often stared too long at the stars as if waiting for them to speak.
Seraphine watched him from a balcony, her arms crossed, worry clouding her usually soft gaze. Behind her, Maika stood silently, eyes sharp and unreadable.
"He's growing too fast," Seraphine whispered, barely able to swallow the fear in her throat. "By the time he reaches five… he'll look older than me."
Maika said nothing for a moment. Her long dark hair swayed with the wind, and her gaze remained fixed on the boy who now floated midair while trying to pluck a bird feather from a tree branch.
"I sealed him," Maika finally said, more to herself than Seraphine. "I poured every ounce of my strength into locking away the Elite bloodlines. The vampire... the lycan... the witch."
Seraphine turned to her, eyes pleading. "Then why is this still happening?"
Before Maika could answer, footsteps echoed behind them.
Carlos.
His shirt was damp with sweat from training, and his usually relaxed face was drawn with tension. He stared at Caelum, then looked at the two women. His voice was quiet—but firm.
"Because you forgot one."
Maika's brow furrowed. "What?"
Carlos stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You sealed the three dominant bloodlines—but not all of him. You forgot what runs deepest in Alaric's veins."
Maika's lips parted in confusion. Seraphine's heart skipped.
Carlos's gaze turned to the horizon, his voice almost reverent. "The Elven blood."
Maika blinked.
Carlos nodded. "Alaric wasn't just the Prince of Vampires. His ancestors—before the corruption, before the blood rituals—were the last of the Elven Royals. The House of Vaelthorne ruled the ancient glades of Elarian before the fall."
A long silence fell.
Seraphine's mind raced. She had read the name in forgotten scrolls. Vaelthorne—a family of nobles touched by starlight and prophecy. The Firstborn Elves. Keepers of nature and secrets.
"Caelum…" she whispered.
"He's their heir," Carlos added. "The child of prophecy. The last light of a bloodline that should've ended."
Maika closed her eyes tightly, as if trying to suppress the impossible truth. "I didn't think… I didn't know it would manifest so early."
Carlos shook his head. "You can seal away vampires, witches, beasts… but you can't seal divinity. The Elven blood isn't just magic. It's life itself. And that boy is glowing with it."
As if summoned, Caelum suddenly turned toward them—his silver hair catching the sunlight, his cloak rippling behind him.
He smiled.
And in that smile, they saw the reflection of all who came before him.
Not just Alaric.
But the forgotten Elven King himself.