The garden behind the Sanctuary had long since been transformed into a haven for Caelum. Petals danced with the breeze, glowing with dew-kissed magic as sunlight filtered through the enchanted trees.
He stood at the center now—barefoot on the grass, his arms trembling at his sides.
His golden eyes glowed unnaturally. Veins of light pulsed beneath his skin like rivers of power barely contained. The earth trembled around him.
Seraphine ran to the edge of the clearing, panic in her voice.
"Caelum!"
But the boy didn't hear her.
The wind howled in a strange rhythm, whipping his silvery-black hair around his face. Energy exploded from his body in bursts—pushing trees back, cracking stone, making birds flee in panic.
Maika stepped forward, trying to suppress it with an incantation—but it only grew worse.
"It's not working," she muttered, her brows furrowed. "He's rejecting the seal again."
"Let me try."
The deep, commanding voice cut through the chaos like a sword. Alaric appeared from the shadows, his crimson cloak fluttering behind him. His gaze locked onto Caelum—not with fear—but with something deeper. Recognition.
The boy looked like him.
Felt like him.
And now, for the first time, he needed him.
Alaric stepped into the storm.
Seraphine cried out. "Alaric, no—!"
But he was already moving. Calm. Steady. Unshaken.
Caelum fell to his knees, hands clutching the sides of his head, his voice breaking in agony.
"I—I can't stop it! It hurts! It's burning inside!"
"You're not alone anymore," Alaric said gently, kneeling in front of him.
The boy looked up, eyes wide with tears and light.
"I don't know how to make it stop," he whispered.
"I do," Alaric said. "Because I've felt it, too."
He extended his hand—not to take power, but to offer peace.
"Close your eyes, Caelum."
The boy obeyed, trembling.
"Now breathe. Feel the wind. That's your blood remembering the forests of the elven royals. Hear the whisper of the leaves. That's your soul calling back to the stars."
A pulse of magic radiated from Alaric's hand—soft, ancient, laced with forgotten elven tongue. He placed it on the boy's heart.
The light flared—then softened. The wind ceased. The trembling stopped.
And Caelum collapsed into Alaric's arms, breathing heavily. Still glowing, but no longer out of control.
"Dad… I didn't mean to—"
"I know," Alaric said, voice thick with emotion. He pulled him close, one arm wrapped tightly around his son. "You're stronger than I ever imagined."
Caelum leaned into his father's chest, feeling safe for the first time in what felt like forever.
From a distance, Seraphine clutched her chest—watching the two, tears falling freely.
She had dreamed of this moment. Now it was real.
A family.
But across the continent… danger stirred.
In the shadowed halls of a crumbling fortress veiled by black mist, a man stood before a massive Seer Mirror—its surface swirling like storm-touched water.
His pale hand hovered above it.
Malrik.
The warlock who once sought to claim the throne of all Elites… now reduced to waiting, watching, plotting.
His red eyes narrowed as Caelum's glowing form appeared in the mirror—magic surging, raw and divine.
"Finally…" he whispered.
He traced a rune on the mirror's surface.
"So that's the vessel fate has given me."
Behind him, robed figures in chains chanted in forgotten tongues.
Malrik's mouth twisted into a grin.
"You shine too brightly, little star. And stars… they were born to burn."
Night blanketed the Sanctuary in stillness.
Seraphine slipped out of bed, wrapping a soft cloak around her shoulders. She padded barefoot down the hallways until she found Maika by the hearth, reading old scrolls and murmuring to herself.
"Mother," Seraphine breathed, "I saw something. Someone."
Maika looked up, concern instantly shadowing her face. "What did you see?"
"A man. A shadow in a mirror. Watching Caelum."
At the mention of her son's name, Maika's expression turned grim. She stood, closing the scroll with urgency.
"That's impossible," Maika said, but her tone was laced with doubt. "I placed protective seals after his last flare. No one should be able to scry him."
Seraphine shook her head, voice trembling. "This wasn't ordinary scrying. It was something older. Darker. I felt it… like he reached into my dream."
Just then, a loud crack echoed from the northern gardens.
They both froze.
Seraphine rushed out, Maika right behind her.
Caelum was outside—kneeling in the grass, eyes wide with fear.
"Mother," he whispered. "I heard a voice. It called me by name. It said I'm not safe here…"
Alaric appeared behind them in a blur, already tense. His crimson eyes swept over the scene. He knelt by Caelum, holding his son's face gently.
"What voice, Caelum?"
"I don't know," he whispered. "But it said it would come for me… and it knew things about me I never told anyone. It even knew about the star mark on my back."
Alaric's face darkened. "No one has seen that mark but us."
Maika's blood ran cold. "Then someone has pierced through the veil."
Seraphine's hands trembled as she embraced her son tightly. "It's him. The shadow I saw."
Alaric stood, eyes blazing now with something ancient. Rage. Protection. Fear.
"He's coming," he murmured. "And he wants my son."
Far away, deep within a crumbling chamber lit by flickering green flames, Malrik smiled as the scrying mirror turned black once more.
"She knows now," he whispered to himself, voice thick with anticipation.
"But knowing… changes nothing."
He turned to his chained seer, a frail creature with glassy eyes.
"Prepare the hounds. When the next moon wanes, we strike. The reborn soul of the Vampire King will belong to me. And through his body—I will rise again."