The maid led Alexandru down the candlelit corridor to the royal library, a cathedral of knowledge preserved through centuries. Shelves of ancient scrolls and leather-bound tomes stretched to the high ceiling, the scent of aged paper and ink heavy in the air. A large desk stood at the room's heart — the king's own, littered with unfinished letters and brittle maps.
Among them lay a single scroll sealed in black wax. Every other seal he had seen before had been gold, a symbol of royal correspondence within the grove. But this one—this was different. It was meant for his kingdom. For him.
Did King Oberon try to surrender before the war began?
The maid curtsied softly and pointed toward a thick rope near the door."If you need anything, my lord, please pull this."
Alexandru smiled faintly. "All I ask from you, sweetheart, is to keep the princess aware of my presence."
With another bow, she slipped away, closing the heavy oak doors behind her. The silence that followed was immense, broken only by the muffled tread of his boots on the velvet carpet.
He lingered by the black-sealed scroll, temptation clawing at him, but he knew better than to tamper with what was not his—at least not yet. Instead, he turned toward the alchemic shelves, running his gloved fingers along spines of books and scrolls on the nature of transmutation, essence, and life itself. The air seemed to hum faintly with old magic.
As he searched, he withdrew an aged photograph from his pocket — yellowed with time, the image nearly faded, yet his mother's face remained vivid. Amelia Thelvon. Her gentle eyes, her faint smile, the woman who had given him both his life and his curse. His heart tightened.
He slipped the photo away and began sifting through the archives. Family records. Genealogies. Anything connected to Thelvon.
Then he found it — a record bearing her name.
"Amelia Thelvon — one of the grove's lead researchers in medicine and alchemy. Pioneered advancements in healing for druids afflicted with the bark disease. Brilliant mind, unrelenting spirit."
His jaw clenched as he read further.
"Amelia has left the grove. We do not know where she has gone. Her family was distraught but offered no answers. All her research has been stored here until her return. May the Tree Father guide her."
And that was all.
A hollow ache burned in Alexandru's chest. He turned page after page, searching for any clue of her fate, of her kin, of her disappearance—but nothing more surfaced. Then, among the scrolls, his eye caught on a strange one written in old Elven. The penmanship was elegant but sharp, almost violent in its precision.
"She has betrayed us. She will die."
No name. No mark. Just hatred carved into parchment.
Rage filled him like a rising tide. His eyes glowed faintly crimson as he gripped the scroll, the letters swimming before him in fury. Whoever had written it — whoever had conspired against his mother — was still out there. Breathing. Laughing. Living in the very kingdom that now sheltered him.
They will suffer for what they've done.
His pulse thundered in his ears. They will suffer until nothing is left but ash and screams—
A soft knock broke through his thoughts.
"My lord, I am coming in," came Leilania's gentle voice.
He quickly rolled the scroll shut, forcing the rage from his face as the door creaked open. The princess stepped inside, dressed in a flowing silk gown that shimmered faintly in the lamplight, her long hair cascading freely down her back.
"Did you find anything of interest, my lord?" she asked, smiling faintly. "Anything to help your research?"
The flames of fury within him dimmed to embers at her presence. He exhaled softly, steadying his voice."I was only browsing your archives. Studying alchemy, mostly. I was told Elves once shunned such arts — yet many of these scrolls are older than the war. I wonder what drove your people to study both alchemy and magic."
She let him guide her to the table, her fingers brushing his hand in quiet gratitude."My father was a realist," she said gently. "He believed peace could bloom through understanding, not division. Elves are immortal, yes, but even we can learn from science. There was one woman he often mentioned… ah, what was her name? Amelia! Yes. She was before my time. A brilliant alchemist. Helped our druids cure the tree bark disease."
Her voice softened. "But her writings changed. They grew sadder. Lonelier. Until her last entry — that one felt happy. Hopeful. My father said she was one of his dearest friends. He prayed for her often…"
Alexandru froze. His throat tightened. His chest ached as he forced a silent breath through his teeth. He wiped a crimson tear discreetly with a napkin, hiding his trembling hands.
She continued, unaware of the storm in his chest. "Before the war, my father wrote a scroll addressed to yours. It's on that desk over there — the one sealed in black. It belongs to you now, my lord."
He swallowed hard. "You refer to the black scroll?"
She nodded, smiling faintly as her hands fumbled over a nearby book written in raised dots — Braille, he realized. She was teaching herself to read again.
Alexandru carefully retrieved the scroll, unsealing it with a deliberate hand. The parchment unfurled smoothly, revealing King Oberon's ornate handwriting.
"Dearest King Alucard,I have been in touch with one from your kingdom. You have a son — congratulations on your heir, old friend. I wish to promote a new era of peace between our people. When my daughter comes of age, I offer her hand to your prince. Let our children be the bridge our lands need. I hope you accept this humble request.— Your old friend, Oberon."
Alexandru's heart nearly stopped. The words blurred in his vision. He had been raised to believe their war was inevitable — that Oberon's people had betrayed them, that peace was impossible. Yet here, in his hands, lay proof that their fathers had once been allies. Friends.
And that he — and Leilania — were meant to be united, not divided.
He stared silently at the parchment, then at her, sitting so calmly before him. If she could see his face, she'd know the truth in his eyes — the pain, the disbelief, the weight of a future that could have been.
He folded the scroll, his voice barely above a whisper."I need to speak to you… alone," he said. "There are secrets only you can know. Only you will understand."