Chapter 224: Her Family
Lucien stared at her for a long moment before his gaze drifted back to the machine. The rhythmic hum that had filled the underground chamber slowly died as he reached over and pulled a heavy iron lever. The gears groaned in protest before finally coming to a complete stop.
Without a word, he gestured toward the staircase.
"Come."
Aveline followed him back into the laboratory above. She could almost see the thoughts battling behind his eyes. He was choosing his words—or perhaps choosing which truths he was willing to reveal.
The laboratory was as cluttered as ever. Scrolls, tools, and half-finished contraptions occupied nearly every available surface. Lucien glanced around, searching for somewhere she could sit, before giving up entirely. He simply patted the edge of one of the sturdy worktables.
"Sit."
Aveline climbed onto the table, folding her hands neatly in her lap while Lucien remained standing before her. For a while, he merely studied her face.
Finally, he spoke.
"You carry Caelvaris blood." His finger lifted toward the medallion resting against her chest. "That pendant is proof enough."
Instinctively, Aveline touched the familiar piece of metal hanging around her neck.
"So..." she murmured. "It isn’t merely some protective charm."
Lucien slowly shook his head. "It’s proof you carry the Caelvaris blood."
Silence settled between them before he asked another question.
"What color is your fire?"
She blinked.
"I know it won’t be yellow."
Her brows knitted together.
"How do you know that?"
A wistful smile appeared on Lucien’s face, though it carried far more sorrow than joy. "Because your grandfather’s fire was blue."
He looked toward the darkened window as though seeing someone standing beyond it. "Like mine. He seldom used it. Few people ever realized the color of his flames."
Aveline studied him carefully. "You’re not my grandfather."
It wasn’t an accusation. Only certainty.
"And Leveret..." Her heartbeat quickened. "...was my grandmother?"
The question seemed to strike him harder than she expected. His shoulders sagged. The years suddenly looked heavy upon him.
After a long silence, he gave a single nod. "She was."
Aveline watched every tiny movement he made. His fingers rubbed unconsciously against one another. His breathing became slower. He looked like a man opening wounds that had never truly healed.
"Who was she?" Aveline asked softly. "What was she to you?" She hesitated before asking the question she feared most. "And... who is my grandfather?"
A gentle smile spread across Lucien’s face.
"My Leveret..."
The possessive made Aveline raise an eyebrow.
He calls her ’my Leveret’... Yet he nearly burned me alive for asking if she had been his mistress. What a strange old man.
Lucien, oblivious to her thoughts, continued quietly. "She was the gentlest soul I have ever known."
His amber eyes shimmered. "A lamb who had never learned cruelty... A tiny ball of light that kept following me wherever I went."
He laughed softly through his tears. "She would tell everyone she loved me." His smile widened, becoming almost unbearably tender. "But she never understood what that word meant between a man and a woman. She loved with the innocence of a child. I protected her as the family she already was to me. And to her... I was simply... Lucien."
A tear slipped down his weathered cheek.
"She was like the wind... So free that no one could ever truly hold her. A jewel of the Sylvarien family. Even the moon seemed dull beside her beauty. But it wasn’t her face people remembered. It was her heart."
He closed his eyes.
"She worked harder than anyone simply because seeing others smile made her happy. Like a little bee that never tired. Like the first ray of morning sunlight after a storm."
His voice had become almost a whisper.
"I have never met another soul like hers."
Aveline listened quietly.
The image forming in her mind was nothing like the rumors.
This did not sound like a forbidden lover. It sounded like... family. Like someone impossibly precious.
Carefully, she asked the question that mattered most. "What happened to her?"
Lucien’s smile disappeared. His entire body stiffened.
"And..." She swallowed. "Who did she marry?"
The laboratory fell silent. Lucien’s hands slowly curled into fists. The temperature in the room rose.
Tiny wisps of blue fire began dancing between his fingers before crawling over his knuckles like living creatures.
His jaw tightened so hard that the muscles trembled.
Whatever answer he carried... It was buried beneath decades of grief.
And perhaps... Rage.
Lucien’s smile slowly faded. His gaze drifted somewhere far beyond the laboratory walls.
"She trusted everyone," he murmured. "That was who she was."
His voice grew quieter. "She believed kindness would always be met with kindness."
A bitter laugh escaped him.
"I kept telling her the world was not built that way."
He rubbed his thumb absently over his weathered palm.
"Not everyone looks upon beauty with admiration."
He closed his eyes.
"Some look upon it with hunger."
Silence settled between them.
"Her light..." he whispered, "...became the very thing that drew wolves to her."
His throat tightened.
"They smiled. They spoke gently. They earned her trust. And when they could no longer possess that light..."
He stopped. His jaw clenched.
"They extinguished it."
His voice cracked on the last word.
"For the rest of the world, she died in a fire."
A humorless smile crossed his face. "But Leveret..." He slowly shook his head. "...my little Leveret..."
His voice broke. "She was already gone long before the flames ever reached her."
For a long while, Lucien said nothing.
The memories returned as vividly as though they had happened yesterday. He remembered standing in the great hall of the Caelvaris estate while accusation after accusation was hurled at him for a crime he had never committed.
His father had condemned him. His brothers had condemned him. Even his own wife had looked at him with doubt in her eyes.
Strangely... none of that had truly hurt.
What shattered him was watching the light disappear from Leveret’s face. She had not cried. She had not screamed.
She had simply... stopped shining.
The family had chosen its reputation over justice. They had decided to bury the truth. They silenced every servant who knew. They spoke only of preserving the honor of House Caelvaris.
So, he had let the fire judge them instead.
That night, the mansion burned.
The proud halls of the Caelvaris family became a funeral pyre, and those who had hidden the truth perished within it.
Only two people survived.
Leveret...
And Leone, his wife.
Even consumed by grief and rage, he had never found it in himself to raise his flames against the woman he loved.
Lucien slowly looked at Aveline.
For the first time, there was something almost pleading in his tired amber eyes.
"Never mistake innocence for safety, child. The cruelest people do not hunt monsters. They hunt the gentle."
Aveline felt tears sting her eyes.
So this... This was Leveret’s fate. No wonder the old man carried so much sorrow.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Who was it?" she asked quietly. "Someone from your family?"
Lucien closed his eyes. "My eldest brother."
The words fell without hesitation. "This much... you deserve to know."
Aveline’s hands slowly curled into fists. She could scarcely imagine the horror.
Leveret.
Lucien.
An elder brother capable of such cruelty. A family willing to protect him instead of the victim.
"The fire..." she whispered.
Lucien gave a slow nod. "It was their recompense."
There was no triumph in his voice. Only exhaustion. Only the hollow certainty of a man who believed justice had arrived far too late.
Aveline lowered her eyes.
Perhaps... They had deserved it.
Her thoughts wandered to the question that had been haunting her since she entered this underground chamber.
"My mother..." She hesitated. "She was Leveret’s daughter?"
Lucien nodded once.
"It cannot have been my father," she continued. "He was a noble of Willowgrave."
A faint smile crossed Lucien’s face. "Your father carried Greenvale blood as well."
Aveline stared at him. "What?"
"His mother was a noblewoman of Greenvale who fled her homeland." Lucien folded his hands behind his back. "Her house was accused of treason and exiled. That is why your father could shelter the Prince of Greenvale for ten years without ever betraying him."
His gaze softened.
"Lord Adelric Willowgrave knew exactly who he was. And he knew who his wife truly was. Who you are... He chose silence, not out of shame... But to protect both of you."
The room seemed to tilt beneath Aveline’s feet.
Everything she believed about her family... About herself... was unraveling. Her breathing grew shallow. Only one question remained. She lifted her eyes to Lucien.
"Who killed my parents?"