It was near midnight, somewhere in the woods outside London. A pale mist hovered over the damp earth, curling around the twisted branches above. Eira and Emma walked side by side beneath the shadowed trees, their footsteps soft against the mossy ground.
"Did the Voclain family respond to any of the published newspapers?" Eira asked, her voice quiet but sharp with intent.
Emma shook her head. "As far as I searched, there's silence. Not a word from their side. Minister Voclain hasn't attended her formal meetings for the past two days either. Seems the scandal around Cecil has had an impact on her."
Eira gave a low hum. "Maybe… but not that much. She's an experienced Minister, five years in that position. She knows how to navigate these things."
As they walked deeper into the woods, they came upon a clearing. An open field bathed in pale moonlight lay before them. At its center, Cecil sat in a conjured chair, arms resting heavily on the armrests, posture rigid with authority. Behind him stood Josh, silent and stoic.
Eira's lips curved into a smirk as she approached. "Oh dear Uncle," she said smoothly, "are you sitting like that to intimidate me? Or are you practicing your claim to the Voclain family throne?"
Cecil turned his cold gaze toward her. "I thought you wouldn't come," he said evenly.
With a flick of her wand, Eira conjured her own chair — grander than Cecil's, towering in design, a striking white that gleamed in the moonlight. She sat with the elegance of someone who knew exactly who she was.
"Oh no," she replied mockingly, "you were definitely expecting me. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here."
Her gaze flicked to Josh. Her smirk returned.
"And is this our daughter-in-law now, Uncle? Doesn't seem much of a looker, to be honest. Your standards are… questionable."
Cecil's brow twitched. "Stop acting like an adult. It doesn't suit you."
Eira ignored the jab. "So, what is it you summoned me for? Surely not to bond like a good niece and uncle."
Josh stepped forward, finally speaking. "We want you to withdraw all your claims — all the claims against Cecil regarding his legitimacy. Reinstate his assets, bank vaults, titles. Speak to Minister Fudge, have the sanctions lifted, and publicly declare the information false."
Eira blinked at them for a moment as if listening to a performance of absurd theater. Then she stood and gave a sarcastic salute.
"Yes, sir. I'll immediately get on it," she said, her voice heavy with dramatic sarcasm. "Did you really expect me to respond like that? Like a good little girl obeying her elders?"
Her smirk faded into steel. "In what scenario do you have the gall to appear in front of me and demand this nonsense?"
Cecil sneered. "You can't control the family, Eira. You need someone like me. Someone who spent his life building foreign relationships. Not someone like you. All you have is the title of Matriarch."
Eira arched an eyebrow. "All those relationships," she said slowly, "and yet here you are—alone. No backing, no diplomatic alliances. Pretending to be the heir of a family that has already rejected you. You don't have anyone to support your claims, and I certainly will not acknowledge you as a White. You're not one. You never were. Your blood is Voclain blood. You have no claim to my family."
Cecil's jaw tightened, but he held his temper. "You think I'll give up the family name that easily? If so, you're delusional. I'll never give up what's rightfully mine."
Eira's eyes narrowed. "Have you not read today's news, Uncle? You don't belong to the White family. You're a Voclain. French-born and British-raised. I think it's time you stop pretending."
She stepped closer. "Why don't you challenge the lord of the Voclain family—your half-brother? Go fight for that name. You mocked me every chance you had, calling me a bastard, claiming my mother was unfaithful. But the irony?" Her voice turned cold. "It was you all along. It was your mother who was unfaithful , . And You—the unwanted child, hiding behind lies."
Cecil's expression cracked, fury dancing behind his eyes. But before he could speak, Eira pressed further.
"So stop these childish games. Stop digging in the wrong soil. If you want inheritance, go search elsewhere."
Cecil shot to his feet. "You don't talk about my mother like that! I was raised here! I was told all my life that I am the true heir. I don't care whether I'm a White or not — that family belongs to me. And if I can't have it, then you certainly won't either."
Eira rose, her expression turning lethal. "So are you threatening war, Uncle? A war with the White family?"
Josh quickly stepped between them. "Please, calm down, Miss Eira. Both of you—let's remain civilized."
Eira stared Cecil down for a long moment. Then she smirked. "Even if I showed mercy, even if I forgave you for everything… do you know what Grandfather said before he died?"
She paused. "He told me to remove you. He said you were a threat to the family."
Cecil's hands clenched into fists, his teeth grinding in his skull.
Eira leaned in. "He knew, Uncle. He knew all along that you were a bastard. That's why he treated you the way he did. That's why he humiliated you, silenced you, downgraded you. It was revenge. His revenge. And your dear mother… oh, he killed her."
Cecil paled. "Liar."
"He told you it was an accident. Dark wizards. But no—it was Grandfather. He killed her and her lover. She begged him. Cried at his feet. And he still did it."
"SHUT UP!" Cecil screamed. "Don't talk about my mother! HOW DARE YOU! I'LL KILL YOU!"
His wand flashed out, but before he could cast a spell, Emma had her own wand drawn, aimed directly at his heart.
"Put your wand down, Cecil," she said coldly. "You so much as raise it again, the next thing you'll face is the death curse."
Josh threw himself in front of Cecil. "Mrs. Emma, please, it's not serious. He's just… out of control." He whispered urgently into Cecil's ear, "She wants you to make a mistake , she wants you to give her a reason to start a fight between each other and you know the plan , the last thing we want is a war."
Cecil's glare never left Eira. "Don't you ever talk about my mother like that again."
Eira laughed softly. "Why not? Realizing the truth hurts? Realizing your mother spread her legs for another man while she had a husband and a son?" She smirked as Cecil seethed. "Funny, isn't it? You called my mother a whore for years. But actually… you were describing your own."
Emma leaned toward her and whispered, "My lady, I think you've gone too far. His mother is also your grandmother."
Eira didn't blink. "I could care less. She's dead. And unimportant."
She looked between the two men. "Now stop trying to scare me. I'm not some timid girl you can bully. You claim the purebloods will strike me down? It's been a week. The White family is still standing. Still strong. You can't manipulate me."
She turned to Cecil. "Go beg the Voclains. Let's see if Maximilien Voclain will accept you—a half-brother, and illegitimate at that—into his noble line. I doubt he will."
With that, Eira turned to Emma. "Let's go. This meeting was pointless. A waste of time talking to this idiot."
They turned their backs and walked toward the trees, the moon casting silver light across their path.
Behind them, Cecil screamed after her, his voice echoing through the forest: "If I can't have that family, I will DESTROY the White family! I will destroy you! I will destroy everything!"
Eira didn't even flinch. "Why don't we just kill this bastard?" she muttered to Emma. "Finish him and save ourselves the drama."
Emma's voice was steady. "That would be a terrible idea, miss. The entire wizarding world is watching this unfold. If he dies now, you'll be the first suspect, even if they can't prove anything. Your reputation would suffer, and that's the last thing we need. The public won't look kindly on a young girl with blood on her hands."
Eira gave a bitter chuckle. "Unfortunately, my hands are already soaked in blood."
Emma nodded. "Now is not the time. We have no solid reason. Everything is still rumor. No legal justification to strike."
"So we sabotage him more?" Eira asked.
"Yes, my lady," Emma said simply.
They walked away beneath the quiet trees, moonlight streaking through the leaves above.
"I'm waiting," Eira murmured, her voice filled with cold patience. "Waiting to see how the Voclain family responds."