Chapter 6
Tension hung heavy in the library of Stonebridge Manor as Alaric sat rigid, steeling himself for whatever was to come.
His father, Gaviel Stonebridge, a rarely rattled man, looked uncharacteristically troubled.
The usual strength in his warm-toned features had dulled, his expression clouded with whatever news had drawn them into this uneasy silence.
“It is Velenshire,” he admitted with a sigh. “What I must say is hardly cheerful.”
Beside him, Vera Stonebridge sat elegantly, her fair complexion contrasting with her husband’s.
The fire’s glow highlighted her sharp cheekbones as she leaned forward, hands resting on the chair’s armrests.
Alaric had inherited her piercing blue eyes, but his jet-black hair and strong build were unmistakably his father’s.
Though his mother’s expression remained calm, the subtle stiffness in her fingers betrayed the apprehension beneath.
Gaviel glanced at Lord and Lady Duskwood.
“As we are all aware, Velenshire has always been… different, but now, the whispers have turned to warnings.” He swallowed hard before continuing.
“There is something amiss. The forests bordering Velenshire are eerily quiet, and several trade caravans have been discovered forsaken—wagons toppled, cargo scattered, but not a soul to be found.”
Lady Duskwood narrowed her eyes. “Where are the merchants?”
Gaviel’s face hardened. “We cannot yet say. There have been sightings of a black mist moving through the forest, creeping toward the road to Velenshire. It devours everything in its path. I dispatched a company to investigate. One man failed to return, and no soul can say what became of him.”
Silence gripped the room.
“Those who’ve dared enter Mokkvyrn Forest say they’ve seen shapes—human figures—slipping between the trees, only to dissolve into shadow,” Gaviel added.
“And you believe this is tied to what, exactly?” Lady Celeste asked.
Gaviel shared an understanding look with Vera before addressing the room.
“I believe you already suspect the truth, my lady. I think everyone here does.” His gaze swept over each person, landing on Alaric momentarily.
“Though it has been quiet for centuries, we suspect magic, dark magic, is at the heart of this. Velenshire has always been its final stronghold in the southern lands, and if the balance there has been disturbed…”
“Then we have far greater problems than abandoned caravans,” Lord Duskwood finished grimly.
Once more, a weighted quiet pressed between them.
Only the Stonebridge and Duskwood families, ancient pillars of Caltheris, carried the knowledge of magic’s existence and the witches of Velenshire.
Alaric had grown up hearing the story of two queens said to dwell in the frozen wastes of Nerathar, though no human had dared venture that far, nor cared to brave the brutal cold to uncover whether the stories were true.
Even when his parents had recently revealed the reality to him, he’d struggled to believe it.
After all, if there were any fact behind the old tales, whatever power those queens held had never reached beyond their icy domain.
“If magic is stirring,” Celeste said softly, “this knowledge cannot leave this room. Not even my children can know. If the other lords or noble families catch wind of this, they’ll fall into a frenzy.
Worse, some might act recklessly and draw the attention of creatures we are not prepared to face.
This has always been our burden to keep, and Lord and Lady Shaw of Velenshire expect us to do just that. ”
Lord Duskwood leaned back, his expression grave. “Then we must act quickly and quietly. The borders of Velenshire need to be investigated before this escalates. We cannot risk this becoming a scandal at court.”
Vera arched a brow. “And how do you suggest we keep this from spreading? It’s courting season—families talk.
I trust Alaric to hold his tongue, but what about his future wife?
His future family? Will we place this burden on another house?
There are plenty of women out there who wouldn’t think twice about spilling secrets. ”
Lord Duskwood glanced briefly at Alaric, then back to the others. “We stabilize the situation near Velenshire before the darkness spreads any further. And… we secure the bond between our families. A union. One that strengthens our loyalty and keeps our secrets protected.”
Alaric frowned, puzzled. What was that supposed to mean?
“Our families are among the very few who know the truth about Velenshire’s magical history.
For generations, it’s been a secret passed only to the next heir, and since there’s been no need to speak of it openly, things have remained quiet for a long time.
But the recent rumors leave us no choice—we must address it.
” Lord Aron said to Alaric. “Now that you fully understand the gravity of this, and with trade becoming more unstable by the day, we must focus on protecting that knowledge while we gather information and prepare our next steps.”
Lord Duskwood turned his gaze upon his father.
“An arrangement between my daughter and the heir of your family would secure that secrecy. It would keep the knowledge within our bloodlines and ensure that no outside family, no foreign power, ever learns of what truly lies in Velenshire and beyond the southern territories.”
His father held steady, his mother mute with downcast eyes. The truth was plain to them all.
“You are proposing a marriage?” Gaviel asked in confirmation.
“Yes,” Aron replied. “Evelyne and Alaric.”
Alaric’s heart sank. Evelyne, his friend since childhood, was too fierce and independent to suffer being made a pawn. She would despise it, yet the arrangement lay before him, inescapable.
He cleared his throat. “With respect, Lord Duskwood, Evelyne isn’t one to accept such decisions lightly. Nor, frankly, am I.”
“You misunderstand. This isn’t about preference; it’s a necessity.
Your family carries knowledge that, if mishandled, could unravel Caltheris and the entire southern lands.
As your mother pointed out, we cannot risk that secret falling into the wrong hands.
A union ensures that risk never becomes a reality. ” Lord Aron said.
Alaric’s thoughts reeled. Evelyne—her laughter, her wit, her strength—she was everything he could ever want, and more beautiful than words could capture.
To choose her as his wife would have been the greatest fortune of his life.
But this? This marriage alliance robbed them of choice, turning something sacred into duty.
His gaze swept the room: his father’s jaw was set.
The decision had already been made, and that was what cut deepest of all.
“Evelyne will hate this,” he said quietly.
“That may be,” Lady Celeste replied, “but she will understand, in time, the importance of what we ask.”
“I don’t think she will,” Alaric murmured, more to himself than anyone else. His gaze remained lowered for a moment before he slowly lifted it to meet Lord Duskwood’s. Then he gave a slight nod.
He would speak to Evelyne, though he had no idea how he would manage to convey this. One thing was sure: neither his life nor hers would ever be the same again.
Lady Duskwood fixed him with an assessing stare. “If you’re struggling with this arrangement, Alaric, perhaps the solution is simple: win her heart. If love is what you desire in a wife, give her a reason to love you in return.”
“What? You expect me to woo her?” Alaric echoed, disbelief plain in his voice. He swallowed hard and turned to his father, hoping for the faintest protest. Gaviel only inclined his head, affirming the necessity of the match.
He couldn’t believe it. He’d known his parents were encouraging marriage this year, but he hadn’t expected it to come to this.
The idea of deceiving Evelyne, disguising obligation as love, left him deeply uneasy.
He had hoped for something genuine, something real.
Foolish, he thought bitterly. Pathetic, he corrected himself.
He was naive to have ever entertained such notions.
Alaric schooled his features into a tight smile and, with a voice steadier than his heart allowed, declared, “I shall wed Lady Evelyne. It will be my honor.”
“Splendid,” Celeste said with a clap of her hands. “Then it’s decided.”
Before she could continue, Lord Duskwood cut in, shifting the conversation to the investigations planned for Velenshire, like Evelyne’s marriage had been nothing more than a box to check off his agenda.
Alaric remained present in the room but distant in spirit as thoughts clouded his mind.
How could he face Evelyne now? The idea of lying to her gnawed at him.
His honor demanded that he follow through, but his heart questioned whether the cost was too high.
***
Cillian sank deeper into the steaming bath, his muscles relaxing as the heat consumed him.
The sounds of the bustling household faded into a distant hum, leaving him in a rare moment of solitude.
The healers, with their endless fussing and tonics, had finally left him alone.
It was the first time in days that he could simply be.
He closed his eyes, letting the steam caress his face as he inhaled deeply.
His thoughts drifted in the quietude of this stolen moment.
But as he exhaled, a subtle shift occurred.
He opened his eyes to see the steam around him darkening, twisting into wisps of black that snaked through the air like tendrils of smoke.
Cillian’s brow furrowed, and he sat up straighter, peering through the swirling shadows.
He reached his fingers out to touch them.
And before he could react, the darkness surged forward, swarming him in a suffocating embrace.
He gasped, his hands clutching the tub’s sides as the world dissolved into a void.
When his vision cleared, he was no longer in the familiar confines of his bath. He stood in a surreal, dreamlike landscape, a vast expanse of undulating shadows beneath a sky ablaze with red hues. And there, among the otherworldly scene, stood the white-haired woman.
She was a few paces away, her pale skin luminescent against the somber backdrop. Gone was the unsettling purr of seduction that had unnerved him during their previous encounters. Now, her expression was soft, almost welcoming.
“Cillian,” she murmured, her voice a soothing melody that seemed to resonate within him.
He hesitated, his instincts urging him to remain quiet, but her gentle demeanor disarmed him.
“Why are you here?” he asked. “What do you want?”
She tilted her head, her frost-white hair shimmering in the red light. “I’m here for you,” she replied. “Whenever you need someone to talk to. Someone who truly understands.”
“Understands what?”
“You, of course,” she answered with a wide grin. “I see you, Cillian. The real you. Not the boy everyone coddles or the fragile soul they pity. You are far more than they realize.”
Her words pierced through the carefully constructed facade he had built around himself. His defenses crumbled as she echoed the doubts and insecurities he had kept hidden for so long.
“You don’t know me,” he muttered, his voice lacking conviction.
“Don’t I?” she replied, stepping closer, her eyes gleaming with something wicked.
“Aren’t you the heir to Lord Aron Duskwood?
The sharp-eyed and clever one who sees what others are too blind or too dull to grasp?
” She paused, savoring the moment before her voice dipped lower.
“That’s what makes you different, Cillian.
That’s why you intrigue me. And that’s exactly why I’m here. ”
A foreign thought slipped into his mind, one that didn’t even feel like his own. No one has ever truly seen you. Not even Evelyne. His jaw tensed as he forced the thought away. No… that’s not true. His sister knew him. She always had. Whatever this woman—this thing—was, it was toying with his mind.
He wanted to reject her remarks, to shove them out, but instead he asked, “Why do you care?”
Her smile softened. “Because I see potential in you. Greatness. And because I understand what it feels like to be alone.”
He saw through the lie, though a treacherous part of him longed to believe it.
As she turned to leave, she leaned close, her voice a whisper against his ear. “I see you, Cillian. The true you. Don’t let them hide you away.”
Before he could respond, a blinding flash of red light engulfed everything, and a vivid image of a deep crimson moon seared into his mind. Its eerie glow rippled across the darkened sky, twisting and shifting as though alive.
He awoke with a start, water sloshing over the sides of the tub.
His breath came in ragged gasps as he frantically scanned the room.
The steam had faded back to its usual pale color, and he shook his head, trying to shake off the lingering hallucination.
But the image still pulsed behind his eyes, refusing to fade.