"I thought I was protecting her," Carl murmured, his voice catching with guilt. He stared down at the crumpled edge of the war map, his claws retracting slowly as he tried to anchor himself.
Sean approached, quieter now. "She deserves to know, Carl. She's not just his mother—she's more than even you remember. That kind of power... it can burn, or it can save. But she needs to know to make that choice."
Carl shut his eyes. For years he had carried the burden alone—raising Caveen in secret, hiding him from both enemies and fate. But that time was over. The boy was gone, taken. And only together could they get him back.
He straightened, resolved. "Send word to Vantessa's court. If Maika is there, I want her here. Now."
---
Meanwhile, in the Witch's Den…
Rain drummed steadily against the stained-glass windows of Queen Vantessa's sanctum. The magic-laced air within buzzed faintly as the message stone on the moon table flared to life, pulsing with Carl's aura.
Maika entered just as the stone pulsed again.
She knew.
Before anyone spoke a word, before Salem could reach out to steady her or Sabrah could offer a whisper of warning, Maika turned her crimson eyes toward them, burning.
"Where is he?" she demanded. Her voice trembled—but not with fear. With fury.
Vantessa picked up the stone. "Carl sent this. The Council has taken Caveen. He's alive, but—"
Maika didn't wait to hear the rest.
The memories were snapping into place now: her child's, his warmth tucked against her chest, Carl's promises, her own whispered lullabies—stolen by the fog of time and magic.
No more.
She stepped forward, eyes flashing. " I need to go to Santossa"
"Maika," Salem said gently, "if you go like this—unbound, awakening—you may lose control. You're still remembering who you are."
Maika turned to her. "Then I'll remember on the battlefield. My son is out there, alone. If I have to burn down the Council's fortress to find him, I will."
Selene moved to her side, lips pressed into a firm line. "Then you won't go alone."
---
Deep Beneath the Council's Stronghold…
Caveen stirred in his crystal-bound cell, the magic around him pulsing, warping. The glyphs etched across the floor hissed and sparked. One of the warding runes dimmed for half a second—a flicker, unnoticed by the guards.
But inside, something had awakened.
The boy opened his eyes slowly.
Not blue. Not silver.
But violet—alive with magic, layered with power he didn't yet understand. His lips moved as if in a dream.
"Daddy...Mommy…"
And somewhere, in the ether, Carl and Maika felt it.
A pull. A tether. A thread made of blood, memory, and unbreakable love.
She whispered into the storm as she mounted her steed, cloaked in twilight.
"I'm coming, Caveen." Maika whispered as she approach Santossa-to Carl.
The air in Santossa City hung heavy with the scent of rain and iron, the storm clouds smothering the moonlight.
Maika stood outside the Lycan Embassy's private wing, every muscle in her body tight with anticipation. Her palm was pressed to the security panel. The guards didn't stop her this time.
Maybe they knew better.
Maybe they saw it in her eyes—what she had become.
But she wasn't here for fear or intimidation.
She was here for the truth.
The steel doors slid open with a hiss, revealing the long corridor to Carl Landon's private quarters. Every step she took echoed with memories she hadn't asked for—but could no longer forget.
Carl had pretended. Acted like she was just another stranger.
But she remembered everything now.
The way his hands once cradled her body. The whispered promises in the dark. The way he had looked at her like she was the sun itself.
And then… the fire.
The screams.
The pain of being torn from everything.
She reached his door and didn't knock. It opened at her touch. A silent command answered.
Carl stood on the balcony, bare-chested, a glass of something amber in hand. The rain had soaked his hair, dark strands plastered to his forehead. He didn't look surprised to see her.
"You shouldn't be here," he said without turning.
"You don't get to decide that," she snapped.
He turned then, slowly, the way someone might face a ghost.
Maika took a single step forward. "You lied to me."
Carl's gaze was steady, unreadable. "I never said I didn't know you."
"You never said anything at all!" Her voice cracked with rage. "You watched me walk into this city, thinking I was just a refugee with a fogged past. And the whole time—you knew. You knew we were married. You knew we had a son."
He didn't flinch. "I also knew you had no memory of it."
"That didn't give you the right to erase us."
Silence stretched between them like a taut wire.
Carl set the glass down and stepped inside, barefoot on the cool stone. "I thought I was protecting you."
"There it is again," Maika said bitterly. "That word. Protect. Like I'm some fragile thing. Like I couldn't handle the truth."
"You had just come back from the dead," he said, voice low. "Your magic was unstable. You didn't even remember your own name. How was I supposed to tell you that we had a life, a child—that he was taken?"
Her eyes glowed faintly silver as her rage spiked. "You should have trusted me."
"I trusted that letting you heal was more important than tearing open old wounds."
"He's our son!" she screamed. "And you let me forget him."
Carl's composure cracked, and his voice rose. "I tried to awaken you at the Island. But it seems that you only can unlocked your memory then I let you go. And don't pretend this was easy for me. Do you know what it's like to wake up every morning with the weight of your family missing from your chest?"
Maika's breath shuddered in her throat. The room suddenly felt too small.
"Then why didn't you find me after?" she whispered. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
Carl raked a hand through his soaked hair. "Because I didn't want to break your heart all over again. You didn't remember the love. You only remembered the pain. I thought… if there was a chance you could live without that suffering, I'd take it."
She turned from him, facing the rain-lashed windows. Her voice came softer now.
"I started remembering a week ago. Little pieces. A promise. A gold ring on my hand. Then I remembered his face. He had your eyes."
Carl was silent behind her.
"I thought it was a dream," she said. "Something my magic conjured to hurt me. But it wasn't. It was real. He was real."
"I never stopped looking," Carl said behind her. " I followed every rumor, every trace of hybrid energy. The Council covered their tracks too well."
Maika turned to face him again, a broken laugh escaping her throat. "You know the worst part? I didn't come here to hate you. I came here to kill you."
Carl's brow rose, but he didn't speak.
"You took my memories. My child. My name. What else could I feel but rage?" Her voice wavered. "But then I saw you. And I realized… the only thing worse than forgetting you—was remembering."
Carl crossed the room slowly, each step deliberate. "I never stopped loving you, Aster."
Her heart twisted.
"Don't call me that," she said, even though part of her longed to hear it. "I'm Maika now. I've lived my life without you."
He stopped just before her. Close enough that she could feel the heat of him through the space between them.
"But do you still love me?" he asked softly.
Her lip trembled. "I don't know."
"You used to," he said, a sad smile playing on his lips. "You once told me I made you feel safe in a world that was always trying to break you."
She blinked hard, fighting tears. "And you broke me anyway."
"I made mistakes. But if I could go back, I would tell you everything. I would have screamed it from the rooftops. That you were my mate. My wife. That we had a son worth fighting the whole world for."
The room was spinning. Her magic pulsed under her skin, trying to protect her—but she didn't want it to. Not now.
"You didn't have to say it," she whispered. "I would have remembered us eventually."
Carl touched her hand, gently, like a man afraid she might vanish again. "You did. And now… you're here."
Maika stared at his hand in hers. It was still the same hand that had once rested against her.
"Do you really think we can find him?" she asked.
"I know we can," Carl said. "But not as enemies. Not as strangers. Only if we do it together."
She looked up into his eyes. Her breath hitched as memories flooded her—sunlight filtering through old trees, the warmth of his arms.
"I hate you for leaving me behind," she said.
"I hate myself more," Carl said.
The storm outside quieted into a gentle patter. The world had shifted around them, as though holding its breath.
She closed the distance between them and laid her hand against his chest, right above the heartbeat she used to fall asleep to.
"I think…" she whispered, "I still love you."
He exhaled a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.
"I never stopped."
Their lips met—tentative at first, then desperate. Like two pieces of a soul finally drawn back together. It wasn't perfect. It wasn't easy. But it was real.
They pulled apart, foreheads pressed together, the silence filled with the thunder of their hearts.
Maika whispered, "We find him. We bring him home. And this time—we don't let anything tear us apart."
Carl nodded, eyes bright. "Together. No matter what."