"He’s back," Evelyn whispered. Then louder, her voice steady even as her hands shook. "Lucian is back."
Across the room, her grandmother looked up from the fire. Madam Merrin’s hair was bound tight, streaks of white catching the glow of the flames. Her eyes, sharp and unyielding, fixed on Evelyn with a weight that pressed the air down. Thɪs chapter is updatᴇd by 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵✦𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖✦𝙣𝙚𝙩
"You can’t go." Her tone was flat, final. "I forbid it."
Evelyn turned to face her, disbelief flashing across her face. "Grandmother—"
"No." The old woman’s voice cracked like iron against stone. "Don’t even argue. You will not leave this house."
Evelyn swallowed, her throat tight. She knew why. She knew the name that haunted her grandmother’s words. Marc. The thing that wasn’t a man, whose power tore through Silas and Vyn like paper. His rank was undefined, his strength outside any measure hunters had ever known. An anomaly. Even speaking his name left the air colder.
But Evelyn’s chest burned with something sharper than fear. She clenched her fists, stepping closer to her grandmother. "You don’t understand. Lucian is the only one who can face him. He’s done it before. He’s beaten things everyone thought were impossible—"
"Don’t." Madam Merrin’s voice rose, brittle but fierce. "Don’t put your faith in miracles. Miracles get people killed."
The words struck harder than Evelyn expected. She bit her lip, holding her ground. "You think I don’t know how dangerous Marc is? I was there. I saw what he did. Silas’s arms broken, Vyn thrown like a doll, Reia taken—" Her voice cracked, but she forced it steady. "I ran because they told me to. Because if I didn’t, none of us would have survived. But I can’t keep running. Not now. Not when Lucian is back."
Madam Merrin rose slowly from her chair, leaning heavy on her cane. She stepped closer, her shadow long in the firelight. "You’re young. You still think strength is enough. That a sword or a skill can fix everything. But Marc is not like the others Lucian has faced. He is... something else. Something even I can’t name."
Evelyn met her gaze, her voice trembling but unyielding. "And that’s exactly why I have to go. Because if Lucian stands alone against that, he might fall. He needs us. He needs me."
Her grandmother’s hand shot out, gripping her wrist with surprising strength. The old woman’s eyes burned with fear Evelyn had never seen in her before. "Listen to me, child. If Lucian falls, this world falls with him. Do you understand? You running into that fire doesn’t save him—it buries you both."
Evelyn’s breath caught. For a moment, silence filled the room, broken only by the crackle of the fire.
But then she pulled her hand free, shaking her head. "No. You’re wrong. If he falls, it won’t be because we were there. It’ll be because we weren’t."
Madam Merrin’s jaw tightened. "Evelyn—"
"I believe in him." Evelyn’s voice rose now, fierce, cutting through the room. "Not because I’m naive, not because I think he’s invincible, but because I’ve seen what he carries. I’ve seen him bleed for people who didn’t even know his name. I’ve seen him stand when anyone else would have stayed down. You say miracles get people killed? Maybe. But Lucian isn’t a miracle. He’s a man who refuses to stop."
Her grandmother’s lips pressed thin. The firelight cast deep lines across her face, shadows of wars she had survived. "And what if he refuses one time too many? What if Marc breaks him like the rest?"
Evelyn’s throat ached, but she didn’t look away. "Then I’ll stand beside him when it happens. Not hide here and pray someone else pays the cost."
Madam Merrin closed her eyes briefly, her cane tapping against the stone floor. For the first time, her voice cracked. "I already lost your mother to this fight. I won’t lose you too."
The words struck Evelyn deeper than any blade. She froze, breath shaking, her chest tight with something that wasn’t anger this time. Slowly, she stepped closer, softer now. "Grandmother..."
But the old woman turned away, shoulders stiff. "Stay here. That’s final."
The silence stretched heavy between them. Evelyn stared at her grandmother’s back, her fists trembling at her sides.
Part of her wanted to yield, to sit and wait, to honor the woman who had protected her through so much. But another part—the part that had stood beside Lucian, Silas, Vyn, and Reia—burned too bright to smother.
She whispered, almost to herself. "He’ll win. Because he has to."
Madam Merrin didn’t answer.
Evelyn lifted her eyes, determination settling sharp behind them. Her grandmother’s fear was real, but so was her faith in Lucian. And between the two, she knew which one she had to choose.
The Citadel’s lights burned brighter, casting long shadows across the estate windows. Somewhere above, the engines hummed, carrying Lucian closer to the fight none of them could escape.
Evelyn turned from the fire, her cloak brushing the floor as she walked toward the door.
Her grandmother’s voice followed her, low, almost breaking. "If you go, Evelyn... you may not come back."
Evelyn paused at the threshold, her hand on the frame. She didn’t look back. "Then I’ll make sure Lucian does."
The door closed behind her with a soft click.
Madam Merrin stood alone in the firelight, her hands gripping the cane so tightly her knuckles whitened. She stared into the flames, whispering words Evelyn couldn’t hear.
Prayers, or curses. Maybe both.
Outside, the Citadel gleamed like a beacon over the fractured city.
And Evelyn walked toward it, her heart pounding, every step pulling her closer to the storm she knew she couldn’t avoid.
"I think your brother is about to become a bloody mess."
Athena said as she nursed Dean Garos’ wounds which he incurred from a confrontation with Eron when he wanted to save the kids and his daughter.
"Good, he has been a menace for far too long, high time someone put him in his place."