The night air felt heavier with each passing second, as if the entire world had shifted into a new, uncharted territory. Caveen's mind raced, his heart pounding against his chest like a war drum. His hands trembled, not from the chill of the night, but from the weight of what he was learning—what he had been pulled into without even knowing.
The Elandra Tree loomed above them, its massive trunk marked by glowing runes—his name now carved there as though it was meant to be. A part of him wanted to tear his eyes away, as if by not looking, he could deny what the magic was telling him.
But it wouldn't let him.
Carl's voice was steady, a sharp edge in it. "You were enchanted, Caveen."
The words hit him like a slap to the face.
His mind shuddered, trying to piece together the fragments of his forgotten nights, those moments when the fog of blackouts had taken over. He had blamed it on alcohol, on stress, on his own habits. But now, everything felt like a lie—a spell woven over his very consciousness.
Behind him, Maika's expression was like stone. Her face cold, her eyes filled with a kind of certainty that made his blood run cold.
"Only a witch clan could have done it," she said, her voice low, measured. "She enchanted you. Wiped your memory. Used a charm—possibly a fertility ritual. That child… wasn't conceived by accident."
Caveen recoiled, his breath catching in his throat. "No. No, that doesn't make sense. I would've remembered. I would've known—"
"Would you?" Carl interjected sharply. His words were sharp like the bite of a blade. "You've spent your whole life thinking your magic was in check. But you've never truly known what it is to be fully awake, to feel your aura unbound, Caveen. Do you think you could really resist something like that?"
Caveen opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. The reality of his situation pressed against him, suffocating.
Carl wasn't done. His voice dropped to a growl. "She's had a plan for you, Caveen. For your bloodline. And now, that plan has taken root. You're not just dealing with a child. You're dealing with something that could shape the fate of all our bloodlines."
Caveen staggered back, the air thick in his lungs. He turned his back to the tree, his mind a whirlwind of disjointed memories—darkened rooms, unfamiliar faces, hands on his skin that didn't belong, voices that whispered to him like promises in the shadows.
He could remember the scent, though. It clung to the corners of his mind like an intoxicating perfume—moonlight and lavender.
"Who was she?" Caveen demanded, his voice barely a rasp. He wanted to shout, to scream at the unfairness of it all. But mostly, he wanted answers. His heart hammered in his chest as he waited for the truth.
Maika's expression softened, but there was a weight to her gaze. She knew this would be hard for him.
"There's only one kind of witch clan who would have the ability to do that," she said, her eyes flicking toward Carl.
Carl's voice came low, grim. "A Moonwell."
The words hung in the air, thick and poisonous. Caveen felt the blood drain from his face. The Moonwell bloodline. Ancient, powerful, dangerous. Witches whose powers came from the very moon itself. Witches who could bend the laws of nature with a whispered incantation. Witches who could alter the very fabric of time and space, given the right spell.
"That explain the unique aura I sense in the estate when I enter the estate," Caveen muttered. "Moonwell"
"Then?" Maika asked for him, her voice sharp. "Did you found where the aura came from?"
Caveen's jaw tightened. "I tried but my power is suppressed by my bracelet."
He shook his head in disbelief. "I didn't choose this," he said, his voice trembling with frustration. "I didn't want any of this. I don't even remember her! How could I—how could any of this have happened to me?"
Maika's gaze softened with understanding, but there was no pity in her eyes. "It's not about what you wanted, Caveen. It's about what was taken from you."
The silence between them was unbearable.
Carl's voice broke through the stillness. "We need to send someone to monitor them discreetly. If she's concealing the pregnancy, she's likely cloaking the child's aura as well."
Caveen glanced up, his pulse quickening. "What? You think she's hiding the child?"
Maika nodded, her brow furrowed. "Yes. If she's a Moonwell witch, she'll know how to hide a child's aura, especially one with the potential to inherit power from both your bloodline and hers. And she'll do whatever it takes to keep the Council from finding out."
Carl stepped forward, his eyes hard as stone. "This child… your child, Caveen, is a weapon. A powerful one. And if it's true that it carries both your blood and the Carello magic from the Moonwell, then the Council will want it. And they won't hesitate to come for it—just like they tried with Elira."
The name hit him like a punch in the gut.
The memory of the past resurfaced—Elira, the her sister, bound by a curse she could never escape.
But now… now there was another child. A child Caveen had never known existed, a child whose very existence could be the key to everything—both the salvation and destruction of their bloodlines.
"I can't—" Caveen's voice cracked. He took a step back, his heart racing. "I can't just—become a part of this. I didn't ask for it."
Maika's eyes softened, but her tone was firm. "You didn't choose this, Caveen. But you're going to have to face it. You're a part of something bigger than yourself now. And that child is your responsibility. Whether you remember how it came to be or not."
Caveen clenched his fists at his sides. His nails bit into his palms, but the pain did nothing to calm the storm inside him.
"What do I do now?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "How do I protect something I don't even understand?"
Carl's answer was simple but filled with a heavy finality. "You protect them. Both the mother and the child. Whether she tricked you or not, that's still your blood. And if that child's aura is anywhere near what we suspect…"
Maika's face paled as she finished, "…Then the Council will come for it. Just like they tried with Elira."
The words hit Caveen like a sudden wave. The Council. They had been chasing their bloodline for centuries, using every tool at their disposal to harness the power of the Elites. The Council's dark history had nearly destroyed everything they had fought to protect.
His stomach turned, and for a moment, he didn't know if he could breathe.
He turned his gaze back to the Elandra Tree, its ancient branches swaying in the breeze. The hollow beneath his name—the mark of a new generation, a new beginning—was still glowing softly, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. It felt like a cruel joke. A promise he hadn't made, a fate he couldn't escape.
Somewhere, his child was growing. Somewhere, a witch bore his blood.
Somewhere, powers beyond comprehension were beginning to stir once again.
And he had no idea how to stop it.