I have chosen Veryon.
Yes I choose him.
Not because it was easy—but because he is the one who made me safe. The one who sounded like truth. Like freedom. Like the woman I wish I could remember.
Lucius has slipped away from my hands, like sand soft, precious, yet impossible to hold forever. And yes, we have a daughter together. But she is my daughter. And how can I be a mother when I don't even know who her mother was?
I need to go find her.
I need to go find me.
And the only way forward... is with him.
Veryon picked up my hand as though it were the most delicate thing he had ever touched. His palm was warm. Steady. Familiar. He led me slowly, carefully, out of the royal carriage. The air outside tasted like the end of something... and the terrifying beginning of something else.
That's when I saw her Elena.
Tears had carved silent tracks down her cheeks. For the first time, that sharp-tongued, fire-hearted woman had nothing to say. No clever comebacks. No sarcastic bite. Just silence. She understood. That, somehow, made it harder.
And then came his generals—Asher, Ryder, Michael. Stoic. Watchful. They bowed as one, a final gesture of loyalty… or maybe of mourning. I wasn't sure.
The carriage that would take us away was already waiting.
Veryon helped me inside. I sat beside him, trembling. He didn't let go of my hand. Instead, he gave it the tiniest squeeze.
"You're doing the right thing," he said gently.
"Sometimes the truth is bitter. The right path can feel wrong at first. But this ache? That twisting in your chest? That's how you know it's the right pain."
I nodded.
Because I knew. God, I knew.
The wheels began to turn. And the kingdom I had once tried to save blurred in my vision, drowning behind the film of tears that refused to fall.
Ariel stood beside Elena. Her small fingers gripped Elena's dress tightly. There were tears in her eyes, but she didn't cry out. Didn't chase after me like any other child might have. No screaming. No confusion. Just quiet understanding. Like her soul had aged a thousand years in a second.
Bless her.
She makes leaving a little easier. And that only makes it harder.
The carriage swayed, its wheels rolling over the uneven cobblestones beneath us. I hadn't meant to fall asleep. But the pull of the day of everything that had happened
was too much.
Veryon's arm was warm beside me, the steady rhythm of his breathing grounding me as the world blurred into a quiet hum. My body ached, sore from the weight of my choices, but I allowed myself a brief escape in the silence between us. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this lost.
I woke as the carriage slowed, the clink of horses' hooves on stone breaking through the fog of exhaustion. We had arrived.
The mansion wasn't a palace. It wasn't even close. But it was his. It stood there, dark and solid, with vines creeping up the walls and flowers curling around the stone. Everything about it was subtle in its beauty—like a secret kept for too long.
Inside, he didn't leave me. Not once.
He guided me up to my room, but as I reached to pull at the strings of my dress, he hesitated.
"I'll send the maids," he said, his voice low, his eyes avoiding mine for a moment.
I nodded without a word. He stepped out, and a quiet knock followed. The maids entered, their movements soft and practiced. I didn't speak as they undressed me, redressing me in something simplesomething I could breathe in. I sat on the bed, my fingers tight around the hem of my new dress, clenching, feeling the cool fabric beneath my fingers. I didn't know why I was still holding onto it, but I couldn't seem to let go.
The rain started then, a steady patter against the windows, growing heavier as the minutes passed.
I couldn't stay in the room any longer. I needed to feel something. I rose from the bed, pulling the cloak they had left for me around my shoulders, and stepped outside. The rain hit my skin like cold glass, and I welcomed it. The storm matched the chaos inside me.
I didn't realize how much I needed the storm until I felt it wash over me, the heavy rain soaking through my cloak. The maids were behind me now, offering to bring me back inside, but I didn't care. I needed this. Needed the weight of the world to press against me. I need to feel it.
And then I saw him.
Lucius.
He stood in the courtyard, drenched to the bone, his black hair hanging in wet strands around his face. His clothes clung to him like they were part o
f him. The storm didn't seem to affect him.
What is he doing here?
The rain pelted down in heavy sheets, drenching my cloak, my skin, and my soul. The cold didn't even matter anymore; the storm seemed like the only thing that understood the chaos swirling inside me. I should have gone back inside, should have stayed safe within the walls of this mansion, away from the confusion and the conflict.
But my feet kept moving, driven by a force I couldn't quite explain.
I wanted to run. I wanted to escape from the weight of my choices—the ones I had made and the ones I had yet to make. I had chosen Varian. He was the one who made me feel alive. He was my path forward, the future I could see. But why couldn't I stop thinking about Lucius? Why couldn't I shake the pull of his presence, the way he stood there, soaked by the rain, as if nothing could touch him?
And then, just as I had decided to take a step back—to walk away from it all—he moved closer. His steps were slow, deliberate, dragging as if every inch closer was a battle he wasn't ready for, but one he couldn't avoid.
I should have turned around. I should have told him to leave me alone, that I had made my choice.
But I didn't.
I couldn't.
I stood frozen in place, my heart beating wildly, knowing I should walk away but unable to move. Lucius reached out, his hand trembling just slightly as he grasped mine. He didn't speak at first, just held my hand with a familiar tenderness that made my chest tighten.
He gently opened my fingers, placing something cold and hard into my palm. A sword. The one I had forgotten—how could I have forgotten it?
"Protect it," Lucius murmured, his voice raw and vulnerable in a way I hadn't heard before. "And protect yourself too."
The words sank into me like a weight, too heavy to lift, too deep to escape. I wanted to say something, to respond, to tell him to leave, but my throat was tight. My heart hammered in my chest, the sword now pressing into my palm, its edge digging into the softness of my hand.
And then he did something that shattered everything.
He leaned in. His lips brushed against my cheek, soft, lingering in a way that felt too intimate, too familiar. Before I could catch my breath, his lips were on mine.
It was brief—just a touch, a fleeting moment—but it was enough. Enough to make my pulse quicken. Enough to send a thousand sparks flying through my veins.
I gasped, my heart skipping painfully in my chest, as I felt it in my mouth, in my throat. My body reacted in ways I couldn't control, and I hated myself for it. I should have pushed him away. I should have remembered Varian, the one I had chosen.
But what was I doing?
Why was my body betraying me like this?
Lucius pulled back, his gaze holding mine for a long moment, his breath shaky, and I could see the storm in his eyes, reflecting the one that raged around us.
"You're always welcome back," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rain. "No matter how astray you go."
And just like that, he turned and left, his footsteps fading into the night, leaving me standing there, sword in hand, drenched and confused.
What was I supposed to feel?
I loved Veryon. Didn't I?