The city of Velmira bustled with life, its cobbled streets echoing with footsteps and chatter. Towering spires of the Elite capital cast sharp shadows across the plaza, where humans and supernaturals mingled under the late morning sun. Seraphine walked gracefully beside her maid, Elda, her hood pulled over her head to shield her from curious stares—not that it worked. Her beauty, blooming more each day, had become harder to conceal.
They had come to the capital to retrieve a rare healing salve from a witch apothecary. It was supposed to be a quiet, brief visit. But fate, as always, had its own plans.
"Elda, look at that," Seraphine said softly, her eyes catching the grand new mural that adorned the city square. Her voice was light—more lively than usual.
"You should not draw attention to yourself," Elda whispered. "We are only here for a short while."
But Seraphine's eyes were already scanning the crowd, drawn by a sudden ripple of commotion.
And then she saw him.
Carlos Mendez stood near the central fountain, laughing with a vendor, a glint of charm dancing in his amber eyes. His jet-black hair was tousled, his sharp jawline and commanding presence turning heads left and right. He wore a dark fitted coat over a crisp white shirt, and his aura—radiated something both enchanting and dangerous.
Seraphine froze mid-step. "Carlos?"
He turned as if her voice had called him through the air.
Their eyes met.
"Seraphine?" he said, walking toward her with a wide, almost disbelieving smile. "Is it really you?"
She pulled down her hood, lips curling into a shy but genuine smile. "It's been a long time."
Carlos stepped forward. "You look... radiant." His gaze lingered just long enough for Elda to raise an eyebrow behind Seraphine.
"You're still charming," Seraphine said. "Come—would you join me for a cup of coffee? There's a shop just across the plaza."
Carlos nodded. "I'd be honored."
Inside the Café
The café was quaint and quiet, tucked into a corner beneath the ivy-draped balconies. The air smelled of fresh bread and roasted beans.
They sat in a booth by the window. Elda kept her distance at another table but her gaze never wavered from her lady.
Carlos studied Seraphine across the table. She wore a modest cream dress, her honey-brown hair loosely tied, yet something had changed. She had grown into herself—into something strong and luminous.
"You seem happier than when I last saw you," he said softly.
Seraphine nodded. "A lot has changed. I've... found a reason to live again."
Carlos tilted his head, smile curious. "Is that so? What kind of reason?"
She looked out the window, face soft. "People I care about. A purpose I never thought I'd have."
Carlos leaned back, watching her. She spoke with an ease he hadn't seen before. Around him, she was animated, open, full of light. Her voice carried warmth, laughter dancing in her tone as they reminisced about their childhood.
Elda quietly sipped her tea but couldn't help noticing it—how Seraphine laughed more freely, how she looked at Carlos with familiarity and trust.
"I'm glad you're okay," Carlos said suddenly.
Seraphine looked at him. "Life in the Delacroix household was... not kind."
Carlos's smile returned, though something flickered behind his eyes. "Well, I'm glad I found you again. You seem stronger now."
"Do I?" she chuckled.
"You always were strong," he said seriously, "You just didn't know it then."
Their conversation drifted into softer topics—books, travels, the chaos of the city—and for a moment, it felt like time hadn't passed. Seraphine spoke more than usual, and Carlos listened, eyes never leaving her.
But when the clock chimed noon, she stood. "We should go. Elda and I have more errands."
Carlos stood with her, his face gentle. "Of course."
She smiled. "It was good seeing you."
"It was everything," he replied.
She turned to leave, Elda following close behind. Carlos watched until they disappeared into the crowd. His smile, bright and warm a moment ago, faded.
The golden light in his eyes dimmed.
He muttered under his breath, voice low and sharp, "You will always be mine... Karena."
At the Vaelthorne Estate
Alaric sat in the study, one hand loosely holding an open book, though he hadn't turned a page in minutes.
A soft knock broke the silence.
"Come in," he said, his voice low but calm.
Elda stepped inside and bowed slightly. Her presence was never intrusive—always quiet, always dutiful.
"My Lord," she began, "I thought it best to inform you… while we were in the capital today, Lady Seraphine accidentally met someone."
Alaric raised an eyebrow slightly. "Someone?"
"Yes," Elda replied. "A young man. Carlos Mendez."
The name struck a chord.
Alaric sat straighter. "Carlos… Mendez?" he echoed, the words turning in his mind like puzzle pieces.
"A childhood friend, it seems," Elda continued, carefully choosing her words. "They spoke briefly. He was polite. Lady Seraphine invited him for coffee. They talked for quite some time."
Alaric's gaze drifted toward the window, though his jaw had tightened ever so slightly. "I see."
"She seemed happy," Elda added softly, as if that fact alone might ease whatever storm brewed within him.
"Thank you, Elda," he said after a pause. "That will be all."
With a quiet bow, she left.
Moments later, the door opened again—this time without a knock.
Seraphine stepped inside, her cheeks still tinged from the evening chill, eyes lighting up as she spotted him.
"You're here," she said warmly, walking toward him.
"I always am," he replied, his voice softening.
She settled on the cushioned seat near him, curling her legs beneath her. "I have something to share."
"Carlos Mendez?" he asked gently, meeting her gaze.
She blinked, surprised. "Elda told you?"
"She did."
Seraphine smiled, a light blooming in her eyes that Alaric hadn't seen in a while.
"It was… nice," she said, resting her hands on her lap. "He hasn't changed much—still charming and loud. We used to run around the gardens behind the chapel in our village. He'd always steal the apples before they were ripe just to make me laugh."
Alaric listened, silent. Each word that fell from her lips painted a picture of her past—a life he wasn't a part of. Her voice danced with nostalgia, with comfort.
"I didn't realize how much I missed talking to someone who knew me before all this," she said, smiling faintly.
Alaric's heart thudded once, heavy.
Jealousy crept in—not loud, but slow and deep, like a cold current beneath calm waters. He hated the way her smile widened when she spoke of Carlos. Hated that someone else had once been her world.
But he didn't show it. No bitterness touched his face. Only quiet understanding.
"I'm glad it brought you joy," he said, voice steady.
She looked at him, puzzled. "You're quiet."
"I was just listening," he said with a soft smile. "You speak so beautifully when you're happy."
She blushed. "You're saying I don't speak beautifully otherwise?"
He leaned forward slowly, his eyes softening, voice low. "I'm saying... I like seeing you this way."
Her breath caught slightly at the intensity in his gaze.
Before she could speak again, his hand rose and gently cupped her cheek.
She stilled.
Alaric hesitated for a heartbeat—but then, his lips touched hers. Softly. Gently. A kiss not of possession, but of longing. Of fear. Of love.
Seraphine closed her eyes, leaning into it. Her hand found his chest, resting above his heart.
When they pulled apart, her cheeks were pink and her eyes wide.
"Alaric..." she whispered.
He looked down, searching her face. "I just... wanted to be sure," he said quietly.
"Of what?" she asked.
"That I still matter to you," he admitted.
Her fingers curled into his shirt. "You do. Always."
He smiled faintly and pulled her into his arms, the jealousy still lingering in his chest—but now dulled by her warmth. For now, she was here. With him.