Chapter 62: The Bloodline Truth

The scroll Theron placed before her was wrapped in deep crimson ribbon, the wax seal cracked and faded with age. It smelled of dust, old ink, and something faintly metallic—like blood.

Serena’s fingers hovered over it.

“What is this?” she asked.

“A record,” Theron said, his voice low and steady. “One of the last surviving documents from the Northern Enclave. It belonged to your mother.”

Serena’s breath caught. Her throat tightened as she untied the ribbon and slowly unrolled the parchment.

Her mother’s name—Elira—was etched at the top in fluid script.

“The bloodline of Elira carries the mark of the moon and flame. Only a daughter born during the eclipse shall awaken the sleeping gift—one of healing, one of ruin.”

Her eyes scanned the words again. Her hands trembled.

“She knew,” Serena whispered. “My mother knew I was born with… with something inside me. Something dangerous.”

Theron nodded grimly. “The Enclave believed your mother’s bloodline descended from the original Moon Priestesses. Those gifted by the Moon Goddess herself during the Age of War.”

Serena shook her head. “That’s just legend.”

“Not anymore.” Theron tapped the scroll. “You’re the proof.”

A silence settled over the library. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the ancient texts and Theron’s face.

“She tried to keep me hidden,” Serena said, barely above a whisper. “She died protecting me. All this time, I thought the rogues wanted Elias. The throne. But it’s me. They’re after me.”

“Because of what you might become.”

Serena stood, pacing. “What if they’re right to be afraid? What if I lose control? What if the ‘ruin’ part of me wins?”

Theron’s gaze softened. He approached slowly, cautiously—as though she were a flame he didn’t want to snuff out.

“You’re not alone, Serena. You have people who would fight to keep you whole. Me. Elias. Even the Council, if they understood what was truly at stake.”

She blinked rapidly, trying to fight the tears gathering in her eyes. “Then why does it feel like I’m unraveling?”

Theron stepped closer, closing the space between them. His hand brushed her shoulder—just a touch, nothing more, but grounding.

“Because you’re carrying the weight of a legacy that was never meant to be carried alone.”

Serena inhaled sharply.

“And Elias?”

Theron hesitated. “He loves you. But he’s still a king. And kings make hard choices.”

“Do you think he’ll choose me over duty?” she asked, not as a challenge, but as a woman desperate for reassurance.

Theron looked at her for a long moment.

“I think he already has. But love can’t survive if it’s built on silence.”

Later that night, Serena returned to her chambers and found Elias seated on the edge of her bed, his elbows on his knees, his hands tangled in his hair.

“You weren’t at dinner,” he murmured without looking up.

“I was reading,” she said softly, closing the door behind her. “I found out what my mother was hiding.”

He looked up at her then, pain and regret etched in every line of his face.

“I wanted to tell you. I swear, Serena, I wanted to.”

She stepped forward. “Then tell me now. Everything.”

He rose slowly. “Your mother came to my father’s court when you were just a baby. She begged for protection from the Enclave—said they had twisted the prophecy, made it into something dangerous. She believed they wanted to use you… or destroy you.”

Serena’s chest tightened. “But they were supposed to be allies. Guardians of knowledge.”

“They became zealots. Obsessed with the idea that one girl could shift the balance between light and darkness.”

“And you knew this?” she asked. “All this time?”

He nodded. “I promised your mother I would keep you safe. I never expected to fall in love with you.”

Serena’s heart thudded painfully in her chest. “And now?”

He closed the distance between them and took her hands in his. “Now I’d burn the world to keep you safe. Even if it means stepping down from the throne. Even if it means war.”

Her breath hitched. “Don’t say that.”

“I mean it,” Elias said, voice rough with emotion. “Serena, you are not a weapon. You are not a curse. You are the reason I still believe in peace.”

She leaned into him, resting her forehead against his chest. His arms closed around her, strong and sure.

“Then promise me something,” she whispered.

“Anything.”

“No more secrets. No more choosing what to tell me. We’re in this together.”

He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. “I swear it.”

And then he kissed her.

It wasn’t gentle—it was a kiss of desperation, of longing, of two souls crashing together after being pulled apart by fear and fate. Serena melted into him, her fingers tangling in his hair, his arms crushing her to him as though she might disappear.

He kissed her like she was the only thing that tethered him to this world.

And for the first time in days, she allowed herself to believe it might be true.

Far away, in the cold forest beyond the border, a different truth unfolded.

A cloaked figure knelt before a great obsidian altar, whispering incantations in the Old Tongue. The flames flickering around the circle pulsed in rhythm with the blood moon above.

A second figure stepped into the clearing, their voice low and reverent.

“The girl has begun to awaken. She reads the texts. She knows.”

The first figure smiled—slow and sinister.

“Good. Then the war has truly begun.”