We arrive at Lucian’s cottage, and I can’t help but let out a soft gasp. “Lucian… it’s amazing,” I breathe, staring up at the grandeur of it all. I take in the intricate stonework, the sprawling gardens, the towering windows that catch the light just right. It’s more than a vacation home; it’s a sanctuary, a place of power and beauty woven together.
Lucian wraps his arm around my waist. “I’m glad you like it,” he says softly, his voice filled with a quiet pride. “I want this to feel like your special place, a second home.”
My heart tightens at his words, and I let out a soft, almost wistful laugh. “I haven’t truly felt at home since… well, since I was a child,” I say, surprising myself with how easily the confession slips out.
The words linger in the air, and a pang of realization follows. I lived with Kael for three years, yet it was never home. Not really. I see that now.
He looks over at me, his eyes gentle, searching. “What happened when you were a child?”
I take a breath, as the memories come rushing back. “My parents… they died when I was young. They were warriors, fighting against Darkfang, actually.” A small, bitter laugh escapes me, the irony not lost on me. “They were part of the Shadow Ridge forces in the War of the Fangs. They died in the final battle.”
Lucian stiffens beside me, his hand falling from my back as his expression shifts, a shadow crossing his face. “The Battle of Bloodmoon Ridge?” he asks.
I nod, and he studies me for a moment, his jaw tightening. “Your parents… What were their names?”