The air remained thick, charged with something unnatural. Celeste felt her heart pounding, her breath shallow as she clutched the sheets beneath her. He was still here.
But tonight, something was different.
A warm hand brushed against her stomach, lingering. Not invisible this time. Solid. Real.
And then—the shadows stirred.
Before her eyes, the darkness itself seemed to bend and shift, molding into something tangible. A shape emerged beside her, reclining on the bed with a grace that was almost inhuman.
Celeste gasped.
He wasn't invisible anymore.
He was there.
And he was beautiful.
Too beautiful.
Tall, lean, and elegantly built, his features were so perfectly sculpted they almost felt unreal. His skin was smooth, flawless, with a pale luminescence that contrasted starkly against the dark strands of his hair. His eyes—sharp, piercing, and glowing faintly—held a power she couldn't comprehend.
He smiled, the kind of smile that could make a woman forget to breathe. Dangerous. Seductive. All-consuming.
"You…," Celeste whispered, her voice trembling.
His smirk deepened. "You finally see me."
Celeste pressed herself against the headboard, gripping the sheets so tightly her knuckles turned white. "What are you?"
His eyes darkened with something unreadable. "I've already told you, Celeste. I am yours."
A chill ran down her spine. "You are not mine."
The man chuckled softly, his fingers trailing along the swell of her stomach. "And yet, here we are. Bound by blood. Bound by the life growing within you."
Celeste shivered. "I didn't ask for this."
He hummed in amusement, tilting his head slightly. "Perhaps not with words. But your soul… your heart… it cried out for something more. Something greater."
His gaze lowered to her stomach, and for the first time, his expression softened. His hand pressed flat against her belly, almost reverent.
"Our child," he murmured. "Our legacy."
Celeste flinched. "Don't call it that."
His glowing eyes flicked up to hers, unreadable. "What else would you have me call it?"
She swallowed hard, unsure of what to say.
His thumb stroked slow, deliberate circles against her skin. "You are scared," he observed.
She clenched her jaw. "Of course, I'm scared. I don't even know what's growing inside me!"
The man smiled, but there was something ancient behind his amusement. Something knowing.
"You will, in time."
Celeste shook her head, tears burning in her eyes. "Who are you?"
A long silence stretched between them.
And then, he leaned closer, his lips barely a breath away from her ear.
His voice, a whisper of silk and shadows, sent shivers through her spine.
"I am the father of your child, Celeste. And soon, you will remember me."
Her pulse thundered.
Remember?
Her lips parted to ask what he meant, but before she could—he pulled her into his embrace.
Warm. Overwhelming. Unnatural.
And for the first time since this nightmare began… Celeste realized she was no longer sure if she wanted to pull away.
Celeste's breath was shallow, her body trapped in a strange mix of fear and warmth as he held her. His presence was intoxicating—dangerous, yet familiar.
She knew she should pull away. She didn't.
His touch lingered against her stomach, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns as if he were committing it to memory. Their child.
A shudder ran through her as he finally spoke again, his voice a smooth, dark melody that sent chills down her spine.
"You must stop Sybilla."
Celeste tensed. "What?"
His eyes met hers, glowing faintly in the dim candlelight. Ancient. Knowing.
"Sybilla cannot continue with her plan," he said, his voice steady. "If she does, it will backfire—on her, on you, on Dahlia. On everyone."
Celeste's heart pounded. She knew Sybilla was always scheming, always plotting. But for him to say this… What did he know?
Her fingers curled into the sheets. "What plan?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
The man gave a slow, almost amused sigh. "You know what plan."
Her lips parted, but no words came.
Sybilla had been desperate lately, her greed growing with each passing day. If she truly believed she could manipulate the court, could bend fate to her will…
Celeste swallowed hard.
She shook her head. "She won't listen to me."
His expression darkened, something sharp flashing in his gaze. "Then she will listen to consequence."
A wave of cold swept through her, making her shiver. He wasn't asking her to warn Sybilla. He was telling her.
"Who are you to say all this?" Celeste demanded, shifting in his hold. "Where are you from?"
His lips twitched in that unreadable way. A secret smile.
"I come from a world beyond your comprehension," he murmured. "A world that touches yours, but is not of it."
Celeste's brows furrowed. "That's not an answer."
He reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch unnervingly gentle. Possessive.
"It is all the answer you need."
She exhaled sharply. "Are you… a god?"
A slow, rich chuckle rumbled from his chest. "Would that make you feel better, Celeste?"
She scowled. "I don't like riddles."
"Then you must hate fate," he murmured, his fingers trailing down her arm.
Her breath hitched. "I don't believe in fate."
His eyes locked onto hers, deep and endless. "It believes in you."
Celeste's stomach tightened.
This was madness. All of it.
She should scream. Run. Pray.
And yet, she found herself leaning closer instead.
"Why did you choose me?" she whispered.
He studied her for a long moment before answering.
"Because you are meant for more than this."
Celeste's throat went dry.
Before she could question him further, he pressed a slow kiss to her temple.
Then, he reached into his cloak and pulled out something small.
A necklace.
A delicate chain of dark silver, and hanging from it—a single rose-shaped gem.
He lifted it, letting it dangle between them, the gem glowing with an eerie crimson light.
"This will protect you," he said softly. "When the time comes, you'll know what to do with it."
Celeste stared at the necklace, something deep in her chest tightening.
"What does it do?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
"Protect you",he said
Celeste clutched the necklace in her trembling fingers, the crimson gem gleaming like a drop of frozen blood. She swallowed, her heart hammering in her chest.
He hadn't vanished. Not yet.
He was still lying beside her, watching her with those unnervingly sharp eyes, his head resting on one arm as if they were nothing more than lovers sharing an intimate moment.
But he wasn't human.
And this wasn't a dream.
Celeste wet her lips, her voice hushed. "What exactly is this necklace supposed to protect me from?"
His lips curved slightly, but there was something unreadable in his expression. "From what is coming."
A shiver ran down her spine. "That's not an answer."
He exhaled through his nose, amused. "It never is with you, is it?"
Celeste scowled. "If you want me to take your warning seriously, you could at least explain it properly."
He reached over, gently prying her fingers open and allowing the necklace to settle against her palm. His touch lingered.
"You ask for explanations when what you truly seek is reassurance," he murmured. "But I cannot give you comfort, Celeste. Only truth."
Her breath hitched at the way he said her name. Like a secret. Like a promise.
She forced herself to focus. "What truth?"
His gaze darkened. "The truth that your world is shifting. That old shadows are stirring, and bloodlines thought forgotten are waking from their slumber."
Celeste stiffened. "Bloodlines?"
He tilted his head slightly, as though considering his words. "Your family is entangled in more than petty ambitions, Celeste. Sybilla believes she plays a clever game, but she does not realize she is walking on a blade's edge."
Celeste frowned. "You mean because of Aliana?"
Something flickered in his gaze, but he didn't confirm or deny it.
She clenched the necklace tighter. "Who are you, really?"
A slow smile, sharp as glass. "The one who should not be here."
Celeste narrowed her eyes. "That's not an answer either."
He laughed softly, the sound deep and rich. "No, but it's all you'll get tonight."
She huffed in frustration. "You expect me to just accept that some mysterious, otherworldly man impregnated me and now shows up at night to talk in riddles?"
His fingers trailed lightly along her wrist. "You accepted it well enough before."
Heat rushed to her face. "That's—"
His smirk widened. "Careful, Celeste. Your heart is racing."
She pulled her hand back, scowling. "Of course it is! You show up in my room in the dead of night, tell me Sybilla is playing with fire, and give me a necklace that I don't even understand! What am I supposed to do with all this?"
His expression sobered, and for the first time, there was something almost... soft in his gaze.
"You survive."
Silence stretched between them.
Celeste swallowed. "Why do you care?"
A long pause. Then—
"Because you are mine."
Her breath caught.
He reached up, his fingers brushing her cheek, tracing the curve of her jaw. His touch was cool, yet it burned.
She had no words.
No defense.
His thumb pressed lightly against her lower lip before he finally pulled away, his expression unreadable once more.
"Warn Sybilla, Celeste," he said, his voice quieter now. "Or suffer the consequences with her."
She stared at him, searching for something—anything—in his gaze that would make this feel less terrifying.
She found nothing.
And then, with an exhale like the whisper of the wind, he was gone.
This time, he didn't linger.
And Celeste was left alone in the dim candlelight, her fingers curled around the strange, pulsing warmth of the necklace—
Knowing her life would never be the same.