The guards halted, stunned, as her voice rang out—a sharp command that silenced their advance.
They hesitated in disbelief. The future Empress, their guiding light, now stood trapped in the embrace of a man said to dwell in darkness.
"C-call someone from the imperial family!" one guard stammered, eyes wide with panic.
Luciana could feel their stares piercing her, their confusion echoing her own. Her cheeks burned crimson, though her skin remained pale. Shame coiled through her, but she didn't pull away. Erebus still held on.
He's trembling, she realized. Not in madness or fury, but something far more fragile—fear.
She took a breath, deep and steady, then exhaled, grounding herself. Slowly, her hand reached up to touch his head. The texture of blood-crusted strands met her fingers. She didn't flinch.
He still smelled of war.
"Erebus…" she whispered, her voice barely audible above the silence. "Please listen to me."
"I won't let go," he murmured, brokenly. "Not again…"
Her heart ached. His voice wasn't one of power or wrath—it was raw, desperate. He was still haunted by their separation.
"But you're hurt," she urged gently. "If you keep holding on like this… you'll be the one who gets hurt."
Her fingers brushed more blood—his, or someone else's. A battlefield clung to him, even here in the palace.
"If I let go…" he whispered, "…you'll disappear again. Like before."
A voice rang down the hall. "Y-your Highness!"
It was Augusta.
"Mother?" Another voice—small, urgent, frightened.
Luciana and Erebus both turned.
Nemesis.
"Nemesis…" Erebus said, startled by the sight.
The boy ran toward them, his little legs moving faster than his emotions. His cheeks were wet with tears.
"Your Highness, please—!" Augusta's warning was too late.
"Mama!" Nemesis cried, flinging his arms around her waist. "I thought someone was hurting you!"
Luciana dropped to her knees, gently cupping his face and wiping away the tears. "Were you scared?"
He shook his head violently. Then, without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around Erebus.
Luciana's breath caught. She hadn't expected that.
"Dade's back," Nemesis declared joyfully. "Just like Grandmama said! He'll protect Mama, me, and Hades!"
A ripple of shock moved through the hall. The myth—the shadow that claimed her—now stood before them in flesh and blood. And their child had recognized him.
Erebus hesitated, then lifted Nemesis with his good arm. His injured right arm hung at his side, useless.
Luciana's eyes flicked to the wound. He's still bleeding…
"Who's Hades?" Erebus asked, a faint smile breaking through the ache.
"The bird brought me a baby brother! I'm a big brother now!" Nemesis beamed, puffing out his chest.
Luciana flushed even deeper. He still believes that silly old tale…
But Erebus's face shifted—his eyes widened slightly. He didn't believe it… not until now.
Helios had told him. She remembered that. But he'd never truly believed it.
Now he was facing the truth. It unsettled him.
She looked down instinctively, her old habit when overwhelmed.
"Mama… Dade didn't see Hades yet," Nemesis said hopefully, tugging at her sleeve.
Her heart squeezed. Not yet… please, not yet.
Fear twisted in her gut. What if he tries to take us back? What if he sees Hades and remembers all the darkness? What if this moment unravels everything I've tried to hold together?
"Mama?" Nemesis's voice grounded her again.
Erebus's voice followed. "Then why don't you take us there?"
Luciana's lips parted in protest, but the look on Nemesis's face shattered her hesitation. He needed this. They both did.
Erebus gently set the boy down, watching him sprint ahead.
"He's grown…" he murmured, watching Nemesis disappear around the corner.
Luciana didn't reply. Her silence said everything. Her eyes, wide with hesitation, were pools of unspoken fear.
Erebus felt it. She still doesn't trust me. She's still afraid. I did this…
They walked in silence, each step heavy with memories neither dared speak aloud. As they neared the chambers, Augusta looked to Luciana with concern.
Luciana gave her a soft smile.
It meant: He won't harm us.
Inside, a baby's wail pierced the air.
The door opened.
Erebus stopped in his tracks.
Leila rushed forward. Her face shifted from relief to fear. When she saw who stood behind Luciana, her blood drained.
"Your Highness—" she choked. Then, "Lord Stygian… how…?"
Her eyes were wild with dread.
Erebus's gaze settled on her. "Lady of House Vampire," he said gently. "My condolences. Your husband died bravely, as a soldier."
A strange stillness fell over Leila. Relief warred with emptiness. Hope had died with certainty.
She bowed low and left with Apollonia, the door closing softly behind them.
The cries continued.
Luciana moved to the cradle and lifted her child.
"Oh, Hades…" she murmured, her voice turning to velvet. She cradled him in her arms and sat, calming him with the tip of her pinky. The baby latched on instinctively, the cries fading to quiet sighs.
Erebus approached like a man approaching the divine.
There, in her arms, was the second miracle he had never expected to see.
He knelt beside her, unable to speak.
Luciana watched him. The way he stared—so vulnerable, so shaken—made her chest tighten.
Gently, she shifted, making space on the couch. "Meet your son," she whispered. "Hades."
Erebus sat slowly, as if afraid the moment would break.
"Hades…" he breathed.
The name settled in his soul like sunlight on frost. His heart—so long locked in a cage of pain—ached open.
The baby opened his eyes, meeting Erebus's gaze.
Erebus froze.
Will he cry? Will he recoil? Will he feel what I've become?
But Hades smiled.
Soft. Pure. Certain.
"He laughed, Mama! He laughed!" Nemesis shouted with glee, jumping in place.
Erebus's throat tightened. A laugh. From his son.
He leaned forward, taking Hades's hand into his own. It was so small. So fragile. So real.
This… This is the miracle we made.
And for the first time in what felt like an eternity…
…Erebus didn't feel like a monster.
Luciana's heart fluttered as she watched Erebus cradle Hades' tiny hand. His rough fingers, calloused by war and time, trembled with reverence.
She'd feared this moment. Dreaded it. The day their eyes would meet over the life they created—the life she protected in silence.
And yet, here they were.
Her arms tightened around Hades. The baby had fallen asleep, peaceful in the warmth of her lap. But Luciana's peace was fleeting.
"Why are you still trembling, Luciana?"
Because even now, watching Erebus softened by fatherhood, a storm still churned in her chest. The past loomed large—too large to pretend away.
You held me like a ghost, Erebus, she thought. As if I would vanish. Do you know how many nights I feared the same? That you vanished and would never return?
She looked at him. Not the legend. Not the monster. Not the name whispered in fear.
Just Erebus.
His dark eyes shimmered with something fragile—joy, disbelief, maybe guilt.
"You're quiet," he said, almost afraid to disturb the silence between them.
Luciana hesitated. "There's… too much to say."
His gaze flicked toward her, then to the baby, then back. "Then say it. I'd rather be wounded by your truth than consoled by your silence."
She lowered her eyes. "Why do you always see through me?"
"Do you know what it was like?" she asked softly, stroking Hades' hair. "To raise them alone? To keep them hidden, wondering if each knock on the door was someone coming to take them away? To take me back?"
Erebus didn't respond. The weight of her words pulled the breath from him.
"I was terrified of you," she admitted. "Terrified of what you'd become… and what I'd become if I went back to you."
She expected anger, or at least pain.
But Erebus only nodded.
"I was terrified of myself too," he said. "For what I'd done. For what I still might do."
Luciana glanced at him, surprised. "Then why come back? After everything?"
"Because no matter how far I ran into the dark, I couldn't erase you. Or them." His voice cracked slightly. "I thought I'd buried that part of myself. But then I saw Nemesis… and I realized I never buried anything. I just got lost."
Her eyes searched his face. There was no armor left. No mask of strength. Just the man she once loathed—wounded, weary, and still tethered to her by threads neither of them could cut.
"I don't know if I can forgive you," she whispered.
"I won't ask you to," Erebus said. "Forgiveness… it's not a right. It's a gift."
Luciana blinked, startled by the honesty.
"I only want to know them," he continued. "To watch them grow and to see you. Even if it means I stand outside your door for the rest of my life."
She turned her gaze to Hades, then to Nemesis—now curled up on a cushion, watching them with sleepy curiosity.
A knot in her chest loosened.
Is it possible… that he means it? That the man who once walked in shadows could stand quietly in the light, not demanding, just… waiting?
"You're still dangerous," she said.
"I know."
"You still frighten me."
"I frighten myself," he admitted.
Luciana exhaled, her shoulders relaxing.
"But you're their father," she said. "And for now… maybe that's enough."
Erebus swallowed hard. "That's more than I hoped for."
She met his gaze fully for the first time since his return. In it, he saw something he hadn't dared to wish for:
A beginning.
Not of what they once were. But of what they could still become.
Together.