Summer dragged on in an agonizingly slow haze. Veylan groaned quietly as he sat under the oppressive sun, his book in hand, trying to ignore the soft chuckles of his parents as they cuddled in the garden. He had to admit, there was a time when he enjoyed seeing them so carefree, so in love. But ever since Selene… he had developed a deep-seated disgust for it. The way they touched, the way they laughed—it made his stomach churn in a way he never thought possible. His eyes narrowed as he buried his nose further into the pages of his book, pretending to focus on the text rather than the nauseating sight of his parents. As much as he cherished their quiet company, he found himself wishing, once again, that Jin were home. At least then, he wouldn't be stuck with them all the time. It was exhausting.
"Veylan~" A soft, sing-song voice broke through his thoughts. He looked up, blinking in surprise as Kora, one of Selene's sisters, approached. His lips curled into a grin, and he stood with a flourish, bowing low before taking her hand in his and pressing a gentle kiss to the top of it.
"Hello, my darling~" he purred, the teasing tone unmistakable.
Kora blushed at the gesture, giggling softly and waving her hand dismissively. She fanned herself with an intricate, delicate fan, the motion graceful and almost hypnotic. "Hello~ I figured I'd pay you a visit after your proposal last month," she murmured, her smile sweet and knowing. "Would you like to walk with me?"
Veylan beamed, his eyes glinting with mischief. "I'd love nothing more, my sweet." He teased, his voice smooth as silk. He took her hand, guiding it into the crook of his arm, and with a flourish, waved goodbye to his parents as they wandered off to enjoy the rest of the garden. With them gone, the weight of their presence lifted, and he felt a rush of excitement stir within him.
The walk was quiet and blissful, much like the many others he’d shared with Kora. She was nothing like the cold, calculating woman he had once imagined. Instead, she was sweet, kind, and surprisingly innocent. But most of all, she was delightfully naïve, and Veylan found himself enjoying her company more than he expected. As they strolled through the garden, his eyes occasionally flickered to the ring on her finger—a reminder of the bond they now shared, for better or worse.
He read aloud from his book, his voice smooth as he casually watched her facial expressions shift with every new passage. His smug curiosity danced behind his eyes as he observed her reactions. She was so easy to tease, and he found amusement in her wide-eyed innocence. She’s cute, he thought, though in the back of his mind, she was still no match for the sister he had probably never laid eyes on again. The thought didn’t sting as it once would have. In fact, there was a strange sense of calm in knowing that he would likely never see Selene again.
Kora, on the other hand, was different. He found enjoyment in teaching her things—things she would never have learned in her sheltered upbringing. He’d taught her how to play the lyre, to write delicate haikus, and even how to defend herself should the need ever arise. His lessons had expanded into areas of history that Drakmire would never touch upon in their pristine, highly-regulated schools for fear of tarnishing their perfect image. Yet, the citizens of Drakmire knew the truth—knew what hid behind the smokescreen of its facade.
Kora made him smile. Her presence had a certain warmth to it, a pep in his step that he hadn't realized he needed. And he loved that she had that effect on him. He had never expected this life, not with her. Yet, as his schooling came to an end and the heavy mantle of responsibility loomed on the horizon, he had come to terms with the future he now faced. Marriage, a throne he’d inherit one day should his father’s health falter, and a life he never quite imagined, but one he would navigate nonetheless.
He was okay with it. Or so he told himself.
"Veylan..." Kora's soft voice interrupted his reading, and without thinking, his voice trailed off mid-sentence. He glanced at her, raising an eyebrow in curiosity, humming softly in response.
"I was thinking..." she began, her eyes shimmering with excitement. "What color scheme should we do for the wedding?" The question lingered in the air, and it was clear from the sparkle in her eyes that the idea of the wedding had been on her mind constantly. She had always dreamed of something extravagant, a grand affair fit for royalty, and ever since his proposal, she had shared those dreams with him daily.
Veylan pursed his lips in thought, tapping a finger against his chin as he considered the options. "Well... that's a good question. I was thinking burgundy for the men, maybe champagne for you and your ladies-in-waiting?" he suggested with a shrug, watching her closely.
Her face lit up as she gasped, starry-eyed and beaming. "That's brilliant, Veylan~ You're a genius!" she gushed, giggling as she fanned herself delicately, her excitement practically palpable.
He smiled, leaning in to kiss her forehead gently. "I know, my dear," he mused, his voice filled with playful arrogance.
Kora laughed softly at his cockiness, a trait she had long turned a blind eye to, always adoring it despite the occasional eye-roll. Veylan, ever the charmer, slipped his arm from her grasp and let his fingers trail delicately down her arm, eventually winding through her fingers.
"Tell ya what..." he said with a glint in his eye, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. "What if we hold a masquerade beforehand? A celebration to us, before the big day?"
Kora blinked, her eyes widening in delight, and before he could say another word, she grabbed onto his hand tightly, practically bounding in place. "Oh my Noctra—really?! That would be spectacular, Vey!" she exclaimed, her excitement so contagious that it made Veylan chuckle.
He tucked his book under his arm and twirled her around, spinning her with a flourish. "And then we can dance the night away together," he mused, dipping her low with a grin.
She giggled, covering her mouth with her fan, her face flushed with excitement as she grinned like a schoolgirl. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of the fan, his eyes gleaming with affection.
"I'd love that~" she smiled, her voice soft and full of warmth, as if the world had shrunk down to this perfect moment shared between them.”
The soft sound of snoring pulled the father from his story, his voice trailing off as he tilted his head toward the small bed across the dimly lit room. His daughter lay curled on her side, the periwinkle strands of her hair fanned out against the pillows, her mouth parted in a peaceful slumber. A fond smile tugged at his lips as he closed the book gently, leaning over to press a featherlight kiss against her warm forehead. With practiced care, he took the flickering candle from her bedside, shielding its glow with his palm as he quietly left the room.
Outside, the corridor stretched before him, bathed in the ghostly hush of night. As he shut the door with a soft click, his gaze drifted upwards—to the towering portrait that loomed above him. His father and mother, frozen in time, their painted eyes carrying secrets long since buried beneath the weight of history.
After so many years, Cassius had come to learn the truth from his grandmother—that his father had not always been a villain. Villains were not born. They were made, shaped by the meticulous hands of fate and circumstance. And yet, even knowing this, it did not excuse the choices his father had made. The blood spilled. The pain inflicted.
A voice, soft and familiar, pulled him from the labyrinth of his thoughts.
“Cassius, dear?”
He turned, drawn to the figure standing at the end of the hall. S’ryce stood beneath the lantern’s glow, her silhouette a vision of ethereal beauty. The sleek white silk of her nightgown clung to her form, and the crimson robe draped over her shoulders had slipped just slightly, exposing the delicate curve of her collarbone.
His lips curled into a smirk. My moonlight.
“S’ryce~” he purred, snuffing out the candle before making his way toward her. His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her close.
“Is Ysayle asleep?” she murmured, her breath warm against his neck.
He nodded, pressing a lingering kiss to her temple.
“Come to bed,” she urged, her fingers trailing up his cheek in a gentle caress. “You stare at that painting too much… I’m starting to worry.” A teasing lilt danced in her voice, but beneath it was something else—concern, quiet and unwavering.
Cassius forced a smile, though the ghosts of his past still clung to him. “I’m fine, my love~” he reassured her.
Without warning, he swept her off her feet in a smooth, effortless motion, cradling her in his arms. She gasped, a burst of laughter escaping her lips as she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Prove it~” she whispered against his lips, her words daring, a challenge meant only for him.
A grin spread across his face, the weight of his father’s sins momentarily forgotten as he carried his wife toward their chambers, her laughter echoing softly down the hall.
The morning air hummed with the quiet bustle of servants gliding through the castle corridors, their whispers threading through the halls like ghosts of duty. Spring’s arrival loomed on the horizon, and with it, the inevitable parting—S’ryce would return to her court, and he would remain in his.
Cassius exhaled, standing alone in the vast expanse of the ballroom, his violin resting beneath his chin like a familiar embrace. With the practiced grace of centuries, he pulled the bow across the strings, each note spilling into the air, a melody to drown his thoughts. The castle walls drank in the music, soft and yearning, as his feet shifted— not merely standing, but moving, flowing. His black ballet shoes gleamed against the polished marble as he turned, letting the music guide him. A breath. A step. A bowstring drawn in harmony with his body’s movement.
The door creaked open.
A delicate head peeked in, though he did not stop. He took a measured breath, pointed his toe, and slid into a turn, the hem of his coat fanning out as he bent backward in perfect synchronicity with the song’s crescendo. His hair spun with him, strands catching the golden light spilling from the high windows. This—this was his sanctuary. A quiet ritual of music and movement, a fleeting escape from the weight of his crown.
And yet, he was never truly alone.
When the final note faded into silence, the door was flung open, and a delighted giggle rang through the chamber. He barely had time to turn before his daughter barreled into him. Chuckling, he lifted Ysayle into his arms, spinning her as if she were his dance partner.“Good morning, lovelie~” he purred, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Has great-grandmother arrived yet?”
Ysayle giggled, reaching for his violin with eager fingers. Cassius smirked, shaking his head playfully. She mirrored his grin and shook her head in return. Ever the fashionably late one, his grandmother.
“How about I continue our story until she arrives?” he offered, his voice like spun silk.
Ysayle’s face brightened like the first bloom of spring, her crimson eyes gleaming with excitement. With a soft yet eager nod, she whispered, “Yes, please.”
He chuckled, the warmth of her delight melting away the heaviness in his chest. As they reached the grand velvet-draped couch at the far end of the ballroom, he extended a hand, guiding her with the grace of a dance.
The moment he sat, she draped herself across his lap with the ease of familiarity, her head resting against him. Without thinking, his fingers wove through her hair, absentmindedly twirling the silken strands between them, a quiet rhythm of comfort only they understood.
“Now… where did we leave off?”
“The night of the masquerade was one no soul would ever forget—not as a mere legend, but as a fixed point in history.
Drakmire had hosted countless balls to appease its nobles and citizens alike, yet none had ever reached the grandeur of this one. And none… had ever been as mortifying.
Veylan stood upon a small stage in the center of his chamber, arms slightly outstretched as his seamstress worked with swift precision, pinning black feathers to his elaborate attire and threading beads of crimson crystal into place—like droplets of frozen blood. He studied his reflection in the gilded mirror before him, his lips pressed into a small, unreadable frown.
In the corner of the room, the soft, delicate plucking of a harp wove through the silence. His mother sat poised with effortless grace, her fingers dancing over the strings as she waited, though her crimson eyes flickered up now and then to observe his progress.
"Are you certain about this, Veylan? This is a defining moment for you." Her voice was gentle, yet laced with something unspoken.
Veylan met her gaze through the mirror, the corners of his lips pulling into a carefully crafted smile.
"Of course, Mother. I have no doubt Jin will never marry, so I’m simply ensuring Drakmire’s future should Father ever fall ill." He sighed, rolling his shoulders under the weight of his ornate coat.
His mother’s smile was knowing—fond, yet touched with something melancholy. Of her two sons, Veylan had always been the more thoughtful one. A hopeless romantic with his nose buried in books, veiled beneath the illusion of an elegant royal vampire.
"If you say so, my love," she murmured.
Jin, on the other hand, was a man of indulgence, more concerned with fashion and fleeting pleasures than the weight of history or the burden of the throne. Had their father not demanded his attendance at the military academy, he would have spent his days wooing opera singers and leaving a trail of broken hearts in his wake. They were opposites in every sense of the word.
The tolling of the bells signaled the night’s beginning. His mother rose with fluid grace, the ruffles and silks of her golden gown shifting with her movement. Sun-colored flowers adorned the intricate twists and knots of her half-up bun, and with a mere snap of her fingers, an elegant deer skull mask materialized over her face.
"I shall see you in the ballroom once it is full, my dear," she purred, pressing a light kiss to his cheek before gliding from the room, the seamstress following in her wake.
Veylan let out a slow breath, his fingers curling against his palm as he turned back to his reflection. A king. The word felt foreign on his tongue, ill-fitting upon his shoulders, despite the elaborate fabrics and rare crystals that had been chosen to adorn him.
He stepped down from the platform, crossing the room to his desk where his mask awaited—a striking piece crafted in the likeness of a crow skull, with jeweled crystals dripping like teardrops from the fangs. Feathers and rubies gleamed beneath the candlelight. Running his fingers over its smooth surface, he hesitated before pulling it over his head, adjusting the fit.
The door swung open.
Veylan turned sharply, his hand instinctively reaching for his mask before he froze.
A girl stood in the doorway, draped in layers of black and white ruffles and velvet, adorned in pearls and diamonds that gleamed like stars. She hesitated before quietly shutting the door behind her, turning—only to nearly jump out of her skin at the sight of him.
Her porcelain mask was intricately painted, delicate yet striking.
"I’m so sorry—I wasn’t aware anyone was in here," she gasped.
Veylan blinked before offering a low chuckle, shaking his head. "No need to apologize. My room is open to any seeking refuge from the festivities."
She hesitated, then nodded, stepping further inside.
"I assume you’re not one for grand parties?" he mused, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket as he turned back to the mirror.
She sighed, gracefully lowering herself onto the edge of his bed, neatly tucking her legs beneath her. "Not at all. As much as I love music and dancing, I find the constant chitter-chatter of politics and nobility to be insufferable."
Veylan quirked a brow beneath his mask. "I see. Then why come at all?" His tone was curious, not prying—simply intrigued.
She let out a soft chuckle, toying with the fabric of her gown. "My sister begged me to attend. I swear, I can never say no to her."
A small smirk tugged at his lips.
"I believe that simply makes you a good sister, does it not?" Veylan mused, turning to face her fully, his smile soft yet knowing.
The girl let out a quiet laugh, her gaze drifting to the only visible part of his face—his lips, where the faintest glimpse of a fang rested against his lower lip.
"You're a vampire?" she asked, tilting her head ever so slightly.
Veylan blinked at her directness before chuckling, raising a hand to scratch the back of his neck in mild amusement. "I am," he admitted easily.
But his smile faltered, replaced by something more hesitant. His fingers curled slightly against his palm as he studied her expression, searching for unease. "That doesn’t… unsettle you, does it?" His voice was softer now, cautious. "I swear, I’m not going to hurt you. I don’t even—" he hesitated, exhaling sharply before continuing, "I don’t find mortal blood particularly… appealing. I prefer animals."
He winced the moment the words left his lips. He had never admitted that to anyone outside his family—never spoken of the ridicule Jin had put him through for it.
To his surprise, she chuckled.
"Oh? So you’re a vegetarian?" she teased lightly, clearly unfazed.
Veylan blinked before letting out a relieved laugh, nodding. "Something like that. My family disapproves, of course, but I can’t bring myself to harm someone like that." His voice dipped slightly, touched with something vulnerable, but he quickly shook it off.
Before she could respond, a sudden fanfare of trumpets echoed through the halls.
Veylan froze. Shit.
"Fuck," he hissed under his breath, his entire posture shifting as reality snapped back into place. "I have to go."
He turned toward the door before pausing, glancing back at her. "You can stay if you like. If you’re comfortable. I don’t mind." His words were hurried but genuine, punctuated by a small smile before he disappeared through the doorway, his cloak swirling in his wake.
The girl remained still for a moment, lips pursed beneath her mask.
How curious…
Who exactly was this man?
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17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRqAvBxalZG
The ballroom shimmered with opulence, draped in cascades of silks and adorned with glittering chandeliers that bathed the grand hall in golden light. Floral arrangements of deep crimson and ivory wound around towering pillars, their petals perfumed with the scent of night-blooming jasmine. Every surface gleamed, from the polished marble beneath the dancers’ feet to the delicate crystal goblets held aloft by nobles in quiet anticipation.
Then, the trumpets sounded.
On opposite ends of the ballroom, Veylan and Kora were announced, their names carrying through the vast chamber like an invocation of fate. Nobles and citizens alike parted in reverence, forming an elegant corridor for the betrothed to meet in the center.
Kora was breathtaking—a vision draped in rose gold, her gown whispering against the marble with each graceful step. Champagne ruffles cascaded like soft waves, catching the flickering candlelight. Around her neck rested her family's signature pearl necklace, luminous against her porcelain skin. Her curls framed her delicate features, falling in soft ringlets over her shoulders, while an ornate fox mask—woven from pearls and flecked with quartz—graced her face, lending her an ethereal allure.
Veylan inhaled sharply, the sight of her rendering him momentarily breathless. Composing himself, he stepped forward, his own attire just as regal—deep obsidian fabrics embroidered with silver threads that shimmered like constellations. His crow skull mask, adorned with blood-red rubies, concealed all but his piercing gaze.
Reaching her at last, he bowed low, lifting her hand with reverence before pressing a kiss upon her knuckles. Then, without a word, he swept her into his embrace. One hand found its place on her waist, the other laced with hers, fingers entwined like the weaving of fate itself.
The music swelled, a waltz spun from the hands of masterful musicians, filling the air with an enchanting melody. As if the world around them ceased to exist, they moved as one—flawless, effortless, their steps in perfect harmony. Soft laughter and whispered endearments passed between them, unnoticed by the captivated onlookers who had instinctively stepped back, mesmerized.
Royalty was not merely bestowed; it was felt, seen, and known. And in that moment, as they danced beneath the glow of a thousand golden lights, Veylan and Kora were nothing short of legendary.
The dance slowly drew to an end, and with a graceful flourish, Veylan dipped Kora. His lips brushed teasingly over hers as he smiled, and she let out a soft giggle, her cheeks flushing a delicate shade of pink beneath her mask.
The rest of the night was filled with laughter and music, the ballroom alive with joy. Nobles sipped fine wine as they exchanged hushed gossip, while citizens twirled across the floor, their voices rising in song. At one point, Kora vanished into the swirling crowd, leaving Veylan momentarily alone. He found himself lingering near the edge of the room, quietly observing the grandeur around him, when a presence settled beside him.
A figure dressed in black and silver stood at his side, effortlessly poised. His blonde hair was slicked back, the strands untouched by the chaos of the revelry. What set him apart, however, was the mask—or rather, the fact that he had always worn one. A smooth, unsettling white mask that concealed his face entirely, making him appear more specter than man.
Veylan immediately recognized him.
"Hello, Veylan... I see you've already secured yourself a fiancée," the man mused, his voice laced with that eerie amusement that always made Veylan uneasy.
"That I have, Oddfellow," Veylan replied, glancing at him with mild curiosity. "And how have you been fairing since graduation?"
Oddfellow. A peculiar name, though Veylan had long since accepted it without question. Whether it was a surname or a chosen alias, he had never dared to ask.
Oddfellow chuckled lightly, his fingers toying with the silver cufflinks of his jacket. "Quite well, actually. I’ve recently joined the Council in Grasigna."
Veylan's brow arched in surprise. "The Council?" His tone carried a note of skepticism. "Isn’t the Grasignan Council known for its corruption? Their rulings have grown more erratic by the year. Why would you join them?"
Oddfellow tilted his head slightly, as if considering his answer. He could not deny the truth in Veylan’s words—the Council had long been plagued by discord, its members squabbling over trivial matters while ancient laws were rewritten at their whim. What had once made Grasigna a bastion of order was now crumbling under its own bureaucracy.
"You're right," Oddfellow admitted at last. "But that’s precisely why I joined. I had hoped that my perspective—my ideas—could mend the Council before it deteriorates beyond repair."
Veylan studied him for a moment, then gave a slow nod. It made sense. Oddfellow had always possessed an unnerving intellect, a sharp mind that cut through deception with ease. If anyone could navigate the treacherous waters of Grasigna’s politics, it was him. No wonder they had accepted him so readily.
Still, something about his presence—about that ever-smiling mask—left Veylan unsettled.
Veylan nodded, raising his glass to his lips as he took a slow sip of wine. With a firm yet familiar pat on Oddfellow’s back, he mused, "I have no doubt you'll make Grasigna a great city again." His tone carried both confidence and amusement, though he took a subtle step back, regarding the masked man with curiosity.
"So—how did you end up here in Drakmire?" Veylan asked, tilting his head slightly. He had never known Oddfellow to wander these parts before. Drakmire was a treacherous place, a city where power was dictated by bloodshed, where the very air hummed with the promise of violence. Outsiders rarely ventured here without reason.
Oddfellow let out a short, knowing laugh. "To attend your wedding, of course. How could I possibly miss an old friend's grand union?" His voice held its usual cryptic amusement as he nudged Veylan lightly.
Veylan snorted, a grin spreading across his face. "Ah, so we're friends now, are we?" he teased, the corners of his lips twitching with suppressed laughter.
Oddfellow chuckled, his mask tilting slightly as if he were grinning beneath it. "No, no~ Enemies, rivals even," he quipped with exaggerated sarcasm.
That earned a genuine, gleeful laugh from Veylan, who shook his head before taking another sip of his wine. "I'm sure even you would overpower me, no matter my status," he mused, rolling his eyes with a smirk.
Oddfellow chuckled, his voice dripping with playful confidence. "Oh, most certainly."
Veylan snorted, swirling the last of his wine before something caught his attention—the faint creak of doors swinging open beside them. His gaze flicked toward the entrance, his brow arching as he recognized the woman from earlier.
She stepped into the ballroom, her gown flowing like liquid silk, her hair trailing behind her like a phantom’s whisper. Had she truly remained hidden in his chambers all this time?
Handing his wine glass to Oddfellow without a second thought, he strode toward her, his steps purposeful yet unhurried. "I'll be back," he muttered over his shoulder before closing the distance between them.
"Well, hello there~ Finally decided to join the festivities?" he teased, voice laced with playful amusement.
The woman startled, turning swiftly before letting out a soft chuckle beneath her mask. Her shoulders relaxed as she exhaled. "That I have~ Has the happy couple had their dance yet?" she inquired, her tone light but betraying a hint of something sharper beneath it.
Veylan smirked. "You missed it—that was an hour ago," he snorted, tilting his head as he studied her. Surely she knew who he was… right? But then again… his crimson eyes swept over her, intrigued. If she didn’t know, well, perhaps he could indulge in a little game. Just for tonight.
He watched as she plucked a wine glass from a passing maid’s silver platter, taking a small sip. An idea began to form in his mind, but before he could speak, she surprised him.
"Would you accompany me to the dance floor?" she asked abruptly, her voice smooth and unwavering.
Veylan blinked. "Me?" He hadn’t expected that.
She nodded, rolling her shoulders before straightening her posture, her presence suddenly more commanding. "I promised my sister I’d dance at least once tonight," she sighed, as if it were a duty rather than a desire.
A slow grin tugged at his lips. So she didn’t know. Interesting. He could work with that.
"I see," he mused, before bowing elegantly and extending his hand. "Well then, may I?"
She snorted but humored him, setting her wine glass down and gathering a bit of her skirts before placing her hand in his.
With that, Veylan led her into the sea of swirling bodies, their figures vanishing into the rhythm of the music.
From across the room, Oddfellow observed in silence, his ever-watchful eyes lingering on the mysterious woman. Who was she?
Veylan and the woman slipped effortlessly into the dance, their movements aligning as though they had been partners in another lifetime. Each step, each twirl, was executed with seamless precision, their rhythm perfectly matched.
A grin tugged at his lips beneath his mask as he spun her, guiding her with practiced ease. “You’re a natural,” he mused.
She snorted, her dress fanning out like flowing silk as they glided across the floor. “I’m from a noble family. Of course, I’m a natural,” she teased, raising her hand just shy of his, their fingers hovering inches apart as they circled one another in a measured waltz.
Veylan chuckled, tilting his head. “Ah~ Then I find myself in the presence of someone important. How curious.”
A soft laugh escaped her, light and melodic—like silver bells chiming in the dead of night. “I’m anything but important, darling,” she mused.
His curiosity deepened. “How so?” he pressed, spinning her once more.
She exhaled a breath, a hint of something wistful in the way her shoulders rose and fell. “My kind only bring sorrow. I’m not someone to be considered important… unless, of course, we’re talking about being dangerous.”
Veylan arched a brow. A challenge? “Is that so? Well, to be frank, most in Drakmire are considered dangerous.” His voice was laced with amusement, his smirk teasing.
She snorted at that, shaking her head with a chuckle. But before she could respond—
A scream.
Sharp. Piercing. A wretched sound that cut through the laughter and music like a blade, silencing the ballroom in an instant.
Veylan’s head snapped toward the source, his muscles coiling with instinct. Around them, nobles froze, whispers rising like the rustle of wind through dead leaves.
The night had just taken a sinister turn”
The ballroom doors opened wider, and a familiar, radiant presence filled the space. His grandmother entered, untouched by time, beauty eternal. Sunlight poured in, catching the golden silk of her gown, making her glow as if spun from morning light itself.
“Cassius, my dear~” she greeted, her voice warm, laced with the wisdom of centuries. “I just bid your wife farewell. Is darling Ysayle ready to go?”
Cassius smiled at the sight of her, but he looked down at his daughter, playfully tapping the tip of her nose.
“I’m not sure~ Is Ysayle ready for a retreat to paradise?” he teased.
Ysayle giggled, swatting his hand away before wriggling from his arms and bounding toward her great-grandmother. “I’m ready!” she declared, beaming at the regal woman.
His grandmother smiled, smoothing a gentle hand over the child’s hair. “Good~ Then we mustn’t tarry.” She turned her golden gaze to Cassius, a knowing softness in her expression. “I’ll see you in a few months, my dear. Ysayle, wave to your father.”
Ysayle turned, her delicate hand fluttering in an eager wave. Cassius held her gaze, memorizing every delicate detail—the way the morning sun kissed her hair, the glimmer in her wide eyes, the way she always looked back at him, as though promising to return.
He raised his hand in return, his heart lighter, yet weighed by the silence that would follow once she was gone.
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