The silence between them was thick, the air in the room heavy with the weight of secrets that had long been buried. Valus stood near the fireplace, his towering figure a shadow against the flickering light. His face, usually a mask of composure, now bore the signs of a troubled past—memories too painful to forget, too precious to dismiss.
Caveen sat across from him, the weight of his grandfather's words settling like stones in his chest. The fire crackled, but the room felt colder now, as if the past itself had come alive in the space between them.
Valus took a slow breath, his eyes never leaving the flames as he spoke. "I never questioned Vienna when she made her decision," he began, his voice quiet, almost reverent. "To abort the child she carried... but you must understand, the world back then was a different place. It was dangerous. Hybrids—like Maika, Malko, and even you—were not viewed with the same care that they are now. The Council would have hunted you, experimented on you. You would not have survived in their hands."
Caveen clenched his fists, the memories of that time flooding his mind. The guilt that gnawed at his insides, the sense of betrayal, the rage he had felt after losing everything. But hearing his grandfather's voice—hearing the vulnerability in Valus's words—added another layer to his pain.
Valus turned his gaze to him, his eyes filled with centuries of wisdom and sorrow. "Vienna made a choice,. Not out of cruelty, but out of love. She did what she thought was best for the child."
The words struck Caveen like a dagger to the heart. He knew the decision was not Vienna's alone to make. It was a choice borne from a world that had no place for their love, their child. But the bitterness that still lingered in his chest made it hard to see it that way.
"And the embryos?" Caveen asked, his voice rough with emotion. "What happened to them?"
Valus took a deep breath. "I kept them," he said quietly, his eyes never leaving Caveen's. "I couldn't let them go-they are mine and Vienna. I had Merrine—my wife—carry them. As a cover. The Council believed they were purebloods. They never knew the truth. They never knew the children were hybrids—half vampire, half witch."
Caveen's eyes widened. "You hid them... as purebloods?"
Valus nodded. "Yes. And so, when the time came, Maika and Malko were raised in a world that saw them as something they were not. But they were safe. And in the end, that was all that mattered."
Caveen ran a hand through his hair, trying to process the truth. He had grown up with the knowledge that his mother had been a human once then reawaken as a vampire. But hearing this... it made the void wider.
Valus was silent for a long moment. "Lysandra loved you, Caveen. She loved you more than anything. She made her choices because she thought they were right for the child. She believed that one day, you would understand."
Caveen's mind spun as he thought about Lysandra—about the way he had left her, the betrayal he had never truly forgiven himself for. The echoes of his past collided with the present, and he couldn't help but wonder if his own choices had doomed him just as Vienna's had. Had he been too blinded by his guilt, his anger, to see the truth? Had he hurt the one person who mattered the most because of his own unresolved past?
Valus's voice broke through his thoughts. "There's one more thing you need to know, Caveen."
Caveen looked up, meeting his grandfather's piercing gaze.
"Lysandra... I believe she cannot survive in this world without you," Valus said, his words slow and deliberate. "In her mind, you can still have another child. She believes there's a future for both of you, despite what has happened."
Caveen froze. His heart pounded in his chest, and for the first time in years, something inside him began to stir—something that had been buried beneath layers of guilt and bitterness.
"She believes... what?" Caveen asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Valus's eyes softened. "She believes that there is still hope for you both. That you can heal the wounds of the past. And maybe... maybe it's time for you to start believing that too."
Caveen stood up abruptly, his mind racing. The idea of a future with Lysandra, of healing the rift that had torn them apart, seemed impossible, yet it was all he could think of in that moment. Could he ever forgive himself? Could she ever forgive him?
The questions echoed in his mind, but Valus's words—his reminder of Vienna's sacrifice—hung in the air like a fragile thread, pulling him toward something he had long since abandoned.
"You have to make the choice, Caveen," Valus said, rising from his seat and placing a hand on his grandson's shoulder. "But remember this: love is not a simple thing. It's a fire that can burn or warm. You have to decide if you're willing to let it burn you—or if you'll allow it to heal what's been broken."
Caveen nodded, though his mind was far from settled. His grandfather's words lingered in the air, filling him with an unfamiliar hope. Perhaps it wasn't too late. Perhaps there was still a chance to reclaim what he had lost.
As Caveen stepped toward the door, ready to leave the comfort of the castle and the sanctuary it had provided him, Valus called out one last time.
"Remember, Caveen. Some love stories are meant to be rewritten. And sometimes, redemption comes not in the form of forgetting, but in the act of healing."