Lucien stood alone on the balcony of his private chambers, overlooking the moonlit valley below the Citadel. The wind tugged at the dark fabric of his tunic, but he barely felt the cold. His mind churned with unrest.
Elena had touched the Blood Archive.
Not just touched it—unlocked it. Called forth visions from the past that hadn't stirred in over three hundred years. And she had done it without trying.
Magic rippled off her in waves. Subtle, raw, and unshaped. He'd felt it in the courtroom, had seen it in the way the pendant responded to her presence, in the way the Witchblade had formed at her back like it remembered her soul.
Velaria's heir. It was unthinkable. And yet… undeniable.
Behind him, the door creaked open. Footsteps padded softly across the stone floor—light, deliberate, but not stealthy.
"You didn't come to supper," Mira said quietly. "Not like you."
Lucien didn't turn. "The wolves are sharpening their teeth, Mira."
"They've been doing that since you took the throne," she replied, voice even.
He finally looked over his shoulder. Mira stood by the table, her silver eyes calm but alert. Always watching. Always reading the future in shadows and expressions.
"She's unlocking things I can't control," Lucien said. "Things we buried for a reason."
"She is not your enemy."
"I'm not sure the court agrees."
Mira walked to the edge of the balcony beside him. Below, torches flickered along the Citadel walls, their golden light dancing over stone and mist. "Some fear her. Others want to use her. A few want her dead."
Lucien's jaw clenched.
"She's not ready," he muttered. "Whatever power she carries, she doesn't understand it. And if the court turns on her—"
"Then teach her," Mira interrupted. "Guide her, like Velaria guided you in the old lives."
Lucien tensed. "That was a myth."
"Maybe. But Elena's real."
As if summoned by the mention of her name, the door opened again.
Elena stepped in, arms crossed over her chest, dark curls still damp from the bath Mira had forced her to take. Her eyes flicked between the two of them, uncertain.
"I can come back," she said softly.
Lucien shook his head. "No. Stay."
Mira gave her a small nod and slipped out without another word.
Silence fell as Elena stepped onto the balcony beside him. She looked different—stronger. Or maybe it was just that she no longer looked afraid of the court. There was fire in her now. He could see it behind her eyes.
"I found a book," she said. "In the chamber beneath the Archive."
Lucien stiffened.
"You shouldn't have gone down there alone."
"I didn't mean to." Her voice had an edge. "But I didn't exactly get a choice. The pendant reacted on its own. It… pulled me."
Lucien met her gaze. "What did you see?"
She hesitated. Then, "Velaria. She was bleeding into the pendant. Saying someone had to be hidden. A child. Me, I think."
Lucien exhaled slowly. "That matches what little we know. The old legends say she knew the witches were doomed. That she tore her bloodline from time itself to save it."
"But why me?" Elena asked. "Why send someone three centuries forward, only to land back here again? It makes no sense."
"Time magic never does," Lucien murmured.
She turned to him fully now, frowning. "Lucien… what am I?"
He reached out slowly and took her hand. "You're not a monster, if that's what you're asking."
"But I'm not just human, either."
"No," he admitted. "You're something more. You're blood of the Moon Queen, yes. But I think you're also something new. A blend of bloodlines. A result of centuries of magic and prophecy colliding."
She went still. "You're afraid of me."
He didn't answer right away.
Then: "I'm afraid for you."
He let go of her hand and leaned on the balcony railing.
"There are factions within the court who see you as a weapon. Others see you as a threat to their blood purity. And some—Damon, Sera—think your very presence breaks the old laws."
She swallowed. "What about you? What do you see?"
Lucien turned toward her. The moonlight cast sharp lines across his jaw, but his eyes had softened.
"I see a woman who fell through time, carrying a power she never asked for. And I see the same fire in you that I once saw in her."
"In Velaria?"
"In you," he said. "You are her, in some way. But you're also someone entirely new."
Elena looked down at her hand, where the pendant now rested against her palm. It pulsed softly with silver light.
"I'm scared," she said.
Lucien stepped closer. "Good. That means you're still human."
Their eyes locked.
And in that charged silence, something shifted. Not just between them—but within her. Magic stirred. Magic recognized him.
And in the back of her mind, something whispered again.
He was yours once. He will be again.