The moon cast its silver light over the sanctuary, the air humming with peace after storms long endured. In the private chamber tucked within the ancient stone walls, Alaric closed the door behind them with a soft thud. The silence was not awkward—but heavy with anticipation, with longing that had simmered for years.
Seraphine stood near the window, the moonlight wrapping around her like a silken veil. Her gown clung to her curves, pale and glowing, and when she turned to him, her eyes shimmered like midnight rivers.
"I still can't believe you're here," she whispered.
Alaric's steps were silent as he crossed the room. "And I can't believe you waited."
She laughed softly, but it broke into a shaky breath when he cupped her face. "How could I not?" she said. "You were the only one my heart ever truly wanted."
Their lips met—not in passion, not yet—but in a quiet exchange of breath and memory. The kiss deepened slowly, melting years of pain and longing into a single moment.
"You've changed," he murmured against her lips, his thumb brushing her cheek. "Stronger. Fiercer."
"So have you," she breathed, tracing the sharp line of his jaw. "But you still taste the same."
His eyes glinted, crimson flaring. "Then taste me again."
She leaned in, parting her lips—and her fangs extended. He tilted his head willingly, baring his neck. "Take what you need, Seraphine."
She sank her fangs into him gently, reverently. The rush of blood filled her senses, hot and rich, tasting like dark wine and memories of nights long gone. Her hand clutched his chest as she fed, feeling the thrum of his immortal heart.
When she withdrew, Alaric's eyes were glowing, hunger simmering deep within.
"My turn," he whispered, voice like velvet and smoke.
Seraphine tilted her head, exposing her neck with trust only a mate could give.
His fangs pierced her skin in one fluid motion. She gasped, clinging to him as heat rushed through her limbs. His feeding was slow, sensual—every pull of blood igniting a fire beneath her skin. He withdrew only when she trembled in his arms.
The bond between them surged to life—an old, deep tether burning anew.
"Alaric," she whispered, breathless, eyes fluttering.
He lifted her into his arms and carried her to their bed, laying her gently on the sheets. His lips kissed a trail from her shoulder to her collarbone, worshiping her like the queen she was.
"I want to make you mine," he said, voice husky. "Not just as my mate, but as my heart. My forever."
"You already have," she said.
Their clothes fell like whispers, forgotten. Skin met skin. Heart met heart.
The world outside faded.
There were no wars.
No prophecies.
No Council.
Just two souls, finally reunited.
They moved together in perfect rhythm, whispers of love and promises painting the night. Their bond sparked with every touch, every gasp, every kiss. Their bodies knew each other like a forgotten song remembered.
And when they collapsed into each other's arms, breathless and glowing under the light of the red moon, Seraphine curled her fingers through Alaric's hair.
"I love you," she said softly.
He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. "And I will love you even if the stars fall and the heavens shatter."
Silence held them for a while, broken only by the soft thump of their joined heartbeats.
"Sleep," he murmured, pulling her close. "Tomorrow, we face the world. But tonight, you're mine."
And Seraphine smiled as sleep claimed her, knowing—for the first time in what felt like eternity—she was no longer alone.
Morning light streamed through the arched windows of the sanctuary, touching the stone floors with golden warmth. The air was still, soft with the hush of a new beginning.
Seraphine remained curled in bed, tangled in the sheets that still held his scent—her lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling in rhythmic calm. Her face, so often weighed by sorrow, was at last peaceful.
Alaric stood by the doorway, quietly watching her as if burning the sight into memory. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Then, with one last look, he turned and stepped into the sunlit corridor.
He didn't need directions.
He could already sense where Carlos was.
His presence—calm, deliberate—lingered like a trail of fresh pine and old magic.
Crossing the marble pathway, Alaric found Carlos exactly where he expected him to be—at the pavilion near the sanctuary gates, seated beneath a tall vine-covered archway. A steaming cup of tea rested in his hand, and his gaze stretched toward the horizon as if lost in thoughts too heavy for words.
Alaric approached without sound.
Carlos looked up before he could speak, offering a short nod. "Couldn't sleep?"
Alaric smirked faintly. "I slept. She didn't let me rest for long."
Carlos chuckled dryly. "I figured."
There was a pause before Alaric took the empty chair beside him. A silence stretched—companionable, but ripe with things left unsaid.
Then, Alaric spoke.
"Thank you."
Carlos blinked, caught off guard. "For what?"
"For everything," Alaric said, his voice low, steady. "For keeping her safe. For staying by her side… for giving her your blood."
Carlos didn't answer right away. Instead, he took a slow sip of tea before setting the cup down.
"I didn't do it for you," he finally said. "I did it because she deserved someone who wouldn't abandon her."
Alaric nodded slowly. "I know."
Carlos turned to him, hesitating. "There's something I should say. Something I should've said before."
His eyes darkened.
"There was a time—during one of the feedings—when I… I lost control. I fed on her." His voice faltered. "It wasn't intentional. I was just—drained, and stupidly hungry. She didn't stop me. She just said she understood."
Carlos looked away.
"I betrayed your trust, even if I didn't mean to."
Alaric was quiet. The morning breeze stirred his long black hair as his crimson eyes watched Carlos closely.
Then, with a sigh, he leaned back in his chair and spoke.
"When I fed on Seraphine last night… I saw it."
Carlos stiffened.
"I saw the memory. I felt the confusion in her… the pain in you." Alaric's jaw clenched. "At first, I was furious. The image of another man feeding on what's mine—on her—it nearly drove me mad."
Carlos stayed silent, unmoving.
"But then I saw the truth." Alaric's voice softened. "I saw how you hated yourself for it. How you tried to resist, again and again. And how… even then, she trusted you."
Carlos finally met his eyes.
"I see you now, not as a rival, but as her shield. Her constant. While I was asleep in darkness, you were her light."
Alaric extended a hand.
"You're my brother, Carlos. Not only by blood—but by everything else that matters."
Carlos stared at the offered hand, his throat tight. Slowly, he reached out and gripped it.
"Then I'll continue to protect her. Even if it's from you," he said, smirking faintly.
Alaric laughed under his breath. "Fair enough."
The two men sat quietly after that, shoulder to shoulder beneath the morning sky. Not enemies. Not just allies. But two souls bound by their love for one woman… and the child who now bore the future of their world.
From a distant balcony above, Maika watched the scene unfold with a gentle smile. Perhaps, finally, unity was no longer a fantasy.
But peace was never meant to last forever.
In the mountains beyond the veil, the storm clouds were already gathering.