Caleb first registered the warm weight of fur blankets against his skin. The second was the faint amber light creeping through the edges of the forest-green curtains. He blinked, taking in the familiar shadows of his room at Nightglen Manor. A groan escaped him as memories from last night hit like a tide—Elysian’s study, the conversation that had stretched too long, and the sudden, unexpected pull of sleep.

  “By the Elements, Elys,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face in weary exasperation. The flames in the hearth cast flickering shadows across his features, etching lines of fatigue and concern. “A simple ‘go to bed’ would’ve sufficed.” Caleb shook his head, a rueful chuckle escaping his lips as he regarded his friend. Despite the late hour and the weight of the day’s burdens, Elysian’s mind seemed ever in motion, his thirst for knowledge insatiable. It was a quality Caleb both admired and occasionally found vexing, especially when it led to lectures that stretched well into the night.

  Pushing himself upright, Caleb winced as his fingers brushed bare skin where his eyepatch should have been. Panic flickered in his chest, his sharp gaze darting around the room. Relief came swiftly when he spotted the eyepatch neatly placed on the dark oak nightstand beside him. Someone had been careful, almost reverent, in ensuring it was within reach.

  Caleb exhaled, shaking off the lingering unease. Rising to his feet, he crossed the room to the window, drawing the curtains aside just enough to glimpse the pale morning sky. The light poured into the room, brushing against the rich midnight blue bedding, the gleaming weapons display, and the dark wood furniture that had been part of his life for as long as he could remember.

  The adjacent bathroom greeted him with cool air and a soft splash of water as he began his morning routine, the gentle sounds of the manor awakening echoing through the stone walls. His clothing, as always, was simple yet noble: a tailored black coat over a crisp white shirt paired with dark trousers and polished leather boots that spoke of both practicality and refinement. He adjusted his eyepatch in the ornate silver-framed mirror, his remaining golden eye gleaming like molten sunlight for just a moment before he covered the scarred one again, the familiar weight of the patch settling against his skin like an old friend. The routine was as much a part of him as breathing—each movement precise, practised, a dance he had performed countless times in this very room.

  The spell had done its job, but his thoughts were already a step ahead, restless and analytical despite the lingering traces of magical slumber. The day was waiting, as unforgiving as ever, its demands already pressing against the edges of his consciousness like an insistent tide. Later that morning, Caleb and Elysian sat together in Caleb’s chambers, the warm aroma of breakfast wrapping around them like a comforting embrace. Steam rose from their cups of freshly brewed tea, curling lazily in the golden morning light that filtered through the curtains, while the gentle clinking of silverware against fine porcelain plates created a soothing rhythm to their shared moment of peace.

  Caleb leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed as he eyed Elysian from across the breakfast table. “Did you really have to cast that sleeping spell?” His tone was sharp, though the fatigue in his eyes dulled the edge. “You could’ve just told me to rest.”

  Elysian smirked, sipping his tea with infuriating calm. “And you would’ve listened? Please, Caleb, I know you better than that.”

  Caleb sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I hate that you’re always right.”

  Elysian chuckled softly but was silenced as Caleb’s expression softened. “Still, thank you… for always being there. Even when I don’t make it easy.” His voice was quieter now, laced with sincerity.

  Elysian tilted his head, his gaze searching Caleb’s face. “You’re welcome. But I have a feeling this isn’t just about the spell.”

  Pushing his plate aside, Caleb hesitated before speaking, his golden eye narrowing with conflicted thoughts. “It’s about Celestia. I want to help her—I need to—but every time I look at her, it’s like I’m staring into a mirror. All the pain, the distrust... I see myself in her.”

  Elysian set his tea down, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced by understanding. Caleb continued, his voice rougher now. “And that’s the problem. How can someone as broken as me possibly help her? What if I make things worse?”

  “You’re not as broken as you think,” Elysian said gently. “And even if you are, maybe you’re exactly what she needs—a reminder that even the broken can heal.”

  Caleb’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I just hope you’re right, Elys. For her sake.”

  Just as the weight of their conversation began to settle, the door swung open, and Mr. Jenkins rushed in, alarm clear in his voice. “Master, we have a problem!” he exclaimed, setting down the morning newspaper before Caleb.

  Caleb’s eyes fell on the front-page images, and a chill coursed through him. The photographs were damning: one captured him and Celestia stepping out of the portal, another showed him re-entering the Safe Zone, and a particularly scandalous shot of his clash with Ryker. But it was the headlines that made his stomach churn. They painted Celestia as a cunning seductress, a manipulative antagonist who had ensnared him with dark magic, insinuating that any bond they shared was tainted and false.

  A particularly vile quote leapt out at him, black ink searing into his mind: “Everyone knows our young lord would never lower himself to such depths as to associate with a woman like her. She must have cast an enchantment to entice him, a desperate act from a wretched soul seeking to reclaim a life beyond her reach.” The words twisted in his gut like a dark hand gripped his heart, squeezing tightly.

  Another headline, more grotesque than the last, caught his eye: “Duke’s Heir Ensnared by the Unattractive: A Cautionary Tale.” The article suggested that Celestia’s stout figure and lack of grace were proof enough that she had resorted to sorcery in a desperate bid to claim what was never hers. “What man would ever willingly choose such a burden?” it sneered, mocking both their connection and her very existence.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Caleb’s hands tightened around the edges of the paper until it crumpled under the force of his grip. The hateful words splayed across the page seemed to mock him, each line a venomous stab at Celestia’s character. He forced his eye to scan the article again, zeroing in on a particularly damning quote:

  “Witnesses reported seeing the unknown woman—always cloaked in secrecy—lingering outside the city offices with Lord Nightglen himself. Such audacious behaviour, combined with her ties to the Belvoir incident, speaks volumes about her dangerous influence.”

  The implication was clear: Celestia was being framed as a manipulative force, the root of recent turmoil, while Caleb remained untarnished—a calculated move to isolate her entirely. His fury simmered beneath the surface, but his mind snapped into focus, discarding emotion for logic.

  “This is deliberate,” Caleb said, his tone cutting through the room like a blade, resonating with a quiet fury. “They’re crafting a narrative designed to alienate her while keeping me clean. If I were in their position, I’d want to cut off any allies she has left, isolating her completely.”

  Elysian nodded, his usual levity absent, replaced by a grave understanding of the situation’s gravity. “Ryker, then? His influence behind this smear campaign?”

  “Likely,” Caleb replied, his voice cold and measured, betraying none of the turmoil that simmered beneath. “But not directly. This reeks of subtlety—someone close to him, someone who knows how to spin lies into gold and manipulate the public’s perception with deft precision.” He began pacing, his mind a whirlwind of calculation, sorting through names and connections, piecing together an intricate web of possibilities and motives.

  Caleb’s eyes narrowed, his gaze fixed on some unseen point as the threads unravelled before him. “I need to find the source quickly, identify the puppeteer pulling these strings. The longer this festers, the deeper the poison will spread, and the harder it’ll be to undo the damage they’ve wrought.”

  He paused, glancing back at the article one last time, the words seeming to mock him from the page. His jaw tightened, a muscle twitching beneath the surface as he clenched his teeth, reining in the fury that threatened to spill forth. “Whoever wrote this thinks they’re clever and can manipulate the narrative with impunity. They’ll soon learn just how wrong they are and how deeply their arrogance has blinded them to the consequences of their actions.”

  Before he could voice his feelings, Mrs. Thompson entered quickly, her face drawn with concern. “A letter from your parents, my lord,” she said, placing it in Caleb’s hands. “They will be arriving tomorrow.”

  The letter’s seal felt like a weight too heavy to bear, and Caleb froze, his mind racing back to darker memories. His mother would arrive with her expectations, her suffocating control, and his scar flared with the sudden rush of pain. It took everything in him to remain still, but his breath came in shallow bursts.

  Elysian’s voice cut through the rising panic. “We’ve played this game before, Caleb,” he said, his voice a sharp contrast to the storm brewing within Caleb. “Your mother’s cruelty doesn’t define you. We will handle this, just as we always do.” He locked eyes with his friend, a silent promise passing between them.

  Caleb swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the past pressing down on him like an invisible shackle. His gaze fell to the letter again, trembling in his grip, but Elysian’s steady presence was an anchor. Finally, he exhaled, the tremor fading from his hands. “You’re right. Together.”

  Caleb stood frozen in the centre of his chambers, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on. His parents’ arrival wasn’t just a challenge—it was a threat. The weight of their judgment, their demands, and the unspoken horrors of his childhood clawed at his composure. His scarred eye pulsed faintly, an unwelcome echo of the past.

  “We can’t let them know she’s here,” Caleb said finally, his voice sharp and urgent as he turned to Elysian. “The staff won’t betray me, but precautions must be taken.”

  Elysian, leaning against the desk with arms crossed, gave a measured nod. “I’ll ward her quarters,” he said. “If anyone tries to approach, the spell will stop them. The room is on this floor, so it’ll be easy to keep watch.”

  Caleb considered it for a moment before nodding. “Not yet. We’ll wait to see how they act when they arrive. But be ready. We have to ensure they stay far from her.”

  Turning toward Mr. Jenkins and Mrs. Thompson, who stood attentively nearby, Caleb gave his next command. “Prepare their usual room. Make it flawless—nothing short of their expectations. And under no circumstances is Celestia to be mentioned. Understood?”

  “Yes, Master Caleb,” Mr. Jenkins said with a bow, his expression unshaken. Mrs. Thompson, though visibly worried, gave a quick nod. Without further word, they left to carry out his orders.

  Elysian stepped closer, his voice quieter now. “They’ll press you, Caleb. Your parents are relentless when it comes to control. Are you prepared for that?”

  Caleb clenched his jaw, his gaze flickering to the letter on the desk. “I don’t have a choice. Whatever they throw at me, I’ll deal with it. But I won’t let them near her.”

  The sharp clatter of hurried footsteps broke the tense silence, echoing in the hallway outside. Before either man could react, the door burst open, and a maid stumbled inside, her face pale with panic. Behind her, faint sounds of commotion filtered into the room.

  “Master Caleb!” she gasped, clutching the doorframe for support. “It’s Lady Celestia—something’s wrong!”

  Caleb took a step forward, alarm flashing across his face. “What happened?”

  “We tried to bring her something to eat, but we couldn’t get close,” the maid stammered, her voice trembling. “There’s… there’s some kind of magic around her room—like a barrier. And—” She broke off, her hands flying to her mouth. “She’s shouting. Or she was…”

  Before the maid could finish, a hoarse, desperate voice echoed faintly from the hallway.

  “STOP! PLEASE!”

  The words hit Caleb like a blow, the raw panic in her tone cutting through him.

  Elysian straightened sharply, his silver eyes narrowing. “That’s her Dome,” he said grimly. “It’s tied to emotions—if she’s conjured it, she’s spiralling.”

  Caleb didn’t wait for more explanation. He was already moving toward the door, his footsteps quick and purposeful. “We’re going,” he said over his shoulder.

  Elysian followed without hesitation, keeping stride with his friend. “If she’s this overwhelmed, we’ll need to act fast. That spell can drain her if she keeps it up.”

  “Then we’ll stop it,” Caleb said, his voice steely as they headed for her chambers, urgency propelling them forward.