CHAPTER 3

Lysandra’s POV

The fire had burned low, but Lysandra remained awake.

She sat alone in the silence of her chamber, one hand resting over her lower abdomen.

It had only been days.

Days since conception.

Yet she could already feel something inside her.

Not movement.

Not a heartbeat.

Something else.

An aura.

Lysandra closed her eyes and slowly drew in a breath.

Pregnancy magic was an ancient art among witches. A mother's magic could sometimes sense the presence of a child long before ordinary signs appeared. But even then, the child's own aura usually remained dormant until much later in the pregnancy.

Weeks.

Sometimes months.

Never days.

Lysandra had studied enough ancient texts to know that.

Which meant what she was sensing should have been impossible.

She rose from her chair and walked toward the center of the room.

"Let's see what you are," she whispered.

She placed both hands over her abdomen and began forming a detection spell.

Silver runes appeared beneath her feet.

The candles around the room flickered.

Lysandra whispered the ancient incantation, allowing her magic to pass gently through her body and reach the tiny life growing within her.

At first, there was nothing.

Then..

Pulse.

Her eyes widened.

Another wave followed.

Stronger.

Her magic recoiled for a moment before she steadied it.

"That's not possible..."

She continued.

The spell deepened, revealing the faintest outline of the unborn child.

It was impossibly small.

Barely more than a spark of life.

Yet surrounding that tiny spark was an aura so intense that Lysandra felt it pressing against her own magic.

She stared in disbelief.

The aura was not one color.

It was divided.

Three distinct energies intertwined around the fetus.

The first was deep crimson, ancient and cold.

Lysandra's breath caught.

Vampire.

The second surged through it like silver lightning—wild, primal, and fiercely alive.

Lycan.

Then came the third.

Soft violet light intertwined with the other two, carrying the unmistakable signature of ancient witch magic.

Witch.

Lysandra's hands began to tremble.

"No..."

She immediately broke the spell.

The runes beneath her feet vanished.

The candles steadied.

Silence returned to the chamber.

But Lysandra could still feel it.

That impossible power.

Three bloodlines.

Inside a child that had only existed for days.

She stumbled backward until her shoulders met the wall.

Her heart raced.

Every lesson she had ever learned told her the same thing:

A child's supernatural aura should not manifest this early.

And a fetus should certainly not possess the combined essence of three ancient bloodlines.

Lysandra slowly looked down at her stomach.

"What are you?"

Her voice trembled.

She had wanted a child.

A strong child.

A child with powerful blood.

But she had never imagined this.

The crimson vampire energy pulsed again.

The lycan essence answered it.

Then the witch magic wrapped around both, binding the three powers together as though they had always belonged to one another.

Lysandra's fear deepened.

This wasn't merely a powerful child.

This was something the Elite World had never seen.

Something that shouldn't exist.

Something that could potentially alter the balance between every supernatural bloodline.

She placed a trembling hand over her abdomen.

For the first time since discovering the pregnancy, Lysandra wasn't smiling.

She was afraid.

"Who is your father?"

The question left her lips like a whisper.

She already knew the answer.

The handsome stranger from the human realm.

The man whose memories she had erased.

The man she believed was human.

But if her child carried vampire, lycan, and witch blood...

Then the man she had chosen wasn't human at all.

And Lysandra suddenly realized that the night she thought she had controlled everything—

she had never understood what she was bringing into the world.

Caveen’s POV

The next morning, Caveen stood before the tall windows of the Vellaria estate, staring across the vast gardens.

His mind was still unsettled.

He couldn't explain why.

Ever since waking from that strange night in the human realm, he had carried the lingering feeling that something was missing.

A face.

A voice.

A memory he couldn't reach.

"Caveen."

His mother's voice came from behind him.

He turned.

Maika stood in the doorway, elegant and composed. Her presence alone was enough to command the room.

"I need to speak with you."

Caveen sighed.

"That usually means I won't like what comes next."

Maika gave him a knowing look.

"You've been avoiding your responsibilities."

"I've been busy."

"You're twenty, Caveen."

He raised an eyebrow.

"And?"

"You're the heir of Vellaria and Landon. The first true union of vampire and lycan blood in generations. You know what that means."

Caveen's expression hardened.

"I know exactly what it means."

"Then you know why we have begun arranging the bride pool."

His jaw tightened.

He had known this conversation was coming.

The Elite World had already begun whispering.

Every noble house wanted an alliance with him.

Vampire families.

Lycan clans.

Ancient witch houses.

Noble bloodlines from every territory had begun offering their daughters as potential brides.

Caveen wanted none of it.

"I don't want a wife."

Maika walked toward him.

"This isn't simply about what you want."

"I know."

"Your bloodline must continue."

Caveen looked away.

That was the burden he had carried since childhood.

He wasn't merely Caveen.

He was the hybrid prince.

The son of a vampire queen and a lycan alpha.

The heir to two powerful empires.

His marriage wouldn't belong to him.

It would belong to the entire Elite World.

Every decision he made could affect the fragile balance between the supernatural races.

And now his family wanted him to produce an heir.

"The bride pool begins this week," Maika continued. "You will meet the candidates."

Caveen remained silent.

"I don't expect you to fall in love with anyone," she added. "But you must choose someone."

He finally looked at her.

"And if I refuse?"

Maika's expression softened.

"Then the pressure will only become worse."

Caveen knew she was right.

He had already spent years avoiding political gatherings, refusing arranged matches, and disappearing into the human realm whenever his responsibilities became unbearable.

But eventually, there was nowhere left to run.

His father had once carried the burden of the Landon bloodline.

His mother carried the legacy of the vampires.

And now that burden had been placed on him.

The bloodline had to continue.

Caveen exhaled slowly.

"Fine."

Maika's eyes narrowed.

"Fine?"

"I'll participate."

"You'll actually meet the candidates?"

"Yes."

A faint smile appeared on Maika's face.

"Good."

"But I'm not promising anything."

"Of course."

Caveen turned back toward the window.

He didn't want marriage.

He didn't want a political bride.

He didn't want to spend his life with someone chosen because their bloodline was convenient.

Yet he understood the responsibility resting on his shoulders.

If he wanted to remain the prince his people expected him to be, eventually he would have to fulfill his duty.

He just didn't know that among the many women waiting to enter the bride pool, there was one woman who had already crossed paths with him.