Vile Tower – Caveen's Penthouse
The cold hum of silence echoed through the high-ceilinged unit.
Caveen sat on the leather armchair by the fire, a glass of untouched whiskey in his hand. The flames flickered before him, but their warmth never reached his bones. The city outside was alive, but inside the tower, time stood still.
He had made this place his escape. His prison.
On the wall across from him was a canvas—an unfinished portrait. Not painted by hand, but seared in his memory. Eyes the color of stormy dusk. A smile that once held the sun.
Lysandra.
His chest tightened.
She had begged him to let go. To unmark her. And when he finally did, it felt like cutting off his own breath. That night—their last—was a firestorm of passion and despair. She had clung to him, whispered "for the last time."
Yet even as he left her sleeping in his arms, a part of him had stayed with her.
His fingers tightened around the glass. The wedding to Madeline was a blur. Applause. Vows. Kisses he couldn't feel. Every moment he smiled, he remembered Lysandra's tears.
> "I'm the one who left. But why do I feel like the one abandoned?"
The weight of his decisions bore down on him. He had tried to do the right thing. To marry, to settle, to forget.
But Lysandra haunted every corner of his mind—because love, true love, was not so easily buried.
He pressed his palm to his chest where the mark had once connected them. Even now, he felt something missing.
Something alive.
The late afternoon sun cast warm golden rays over the garden of Ravenshade Manor. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves as Lysandra sat quietly beneath the pavilion, her long hair catching the light like silk spun from moonlight.
She had come here for solitude, to sort through the tangled threads of who she once was and who she had become—Lysandra, the witch… and Selene, the original vampire.
But the moment did not stay quiet for long.
Footsteps echoed lightly behind her.
She turned just slightly, her senses already alert, when Alaric's familiar voice drifted in with the breeze.
> "Lysandra," he said gently, "someone is here to see you."
Her brows furrowed slightly. "Who?"
Alaric stepped aside—and there he was.
Kylan.
Tall, composed, his eyes gleaming with something soft… familiar. His presence, once only a quiet shadow in her past, now stood vividly before her. He smiled as if greeting an old friend long gone.
> "Now that you've awakened as Selene," he asked, voice low but steady, "do you remember me?"
Lysandra's lips parted with a smile—warm, calm.
> "I'm still Lysandra, Kylan. I may carry Selene's memories… her power, her pain—but I am still me." Her eyes met his. "Just with a few more lifetimes in between."
Kylan's smile deepened, touched by relief. He sat across from her without asking, as if this meeting had always been meant to happen.
Alaric, watching from behind, sensed no tension—only something patient and deeply unspoken between them. He gave a respectful nod and quietly turned to leave, heading back to the manor.
But just as he reached the steps, he found Carlos leaning against the pillar of the doorway, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised.
> "You think… he's the father?" Carlos asked bluntly, eyes flicking in the direction of the pavilion.
Alaric followed his gaze, then shook his head—not in denial, but in uncertainty.
> "I don't know," he admitted. "But… I hope he is."
Carlos tilted his head slightly, curious.
Alaric continued, voice laced with memory.
> "Kylan's a good man. Always has been. Even when Lysandra chose Caveen, he stood quietly beside her—hoping the tides would change. Not once did he speak ill. He only waited."
He paused, watching the two figures at the pavilion—Kylan listening intently, Lysandra laughing faintly at something he said. It was a soft sound, the kind of laugh that only surfaced when someone felt safe again.
> "Maybe," Alaric murmured, "that time is now."
He patted Carlos lightly on the shoulder, nodding toward the manor.
> "Come on. Let them talk. Our Selene is already a woman, dont be over protective brother."
Together, they turned away, leaving the garden to the fading sun and the two souls beneath the pavilion—each one finally beginning to face the future… even as the past softly lingered in their hearts.