"Some might accept this fate. After all, it's not right to damn others just because you are damned. However, people don't like to inconvenience themselves. If everyone grows old at the same time, some tasks become increasingly challenging. If one must endure such a life, wouldn't it be preferable if it were a tad easier? Thus, it doesn't have to end with you. The ones who follow can bear this burden. There are always those who are willing to do what is deemed 'necessary.'"

As they approached the topic of offspring, Maya suddenly realized there was a glaring hole in his story. It was Maya herself.

"Erik, did Anastasia have children?"

Maya's abrupt question took Erik by surprise. She had been contemplating how young Anastasia looked. She was the same age as Maya, and it was difficult for her to fathom that someone so youthful could have undergone such harrowing experiences and still have had children.

"You said our powers are passed down…" she started, but his facial expression indicated he knew precisely where she was heading with her question.

He feared the explanation might bring yet another heavy revelation.

"She didn't."

"Then…?"

He was beginning to exude similar energy as the one he did out there when she had convinced him she was a Prima. Somehow, Maya could sense that this conversation was beginning to touch him on a deeper, more personal level than the tale of Anastasia.

"As I already mentioned," he began, but his voice didn't carry the same stable composure he had talked in until now. It was very subtle, and Maya, if she hadn't listened to him this long, wouldn't have caught it. "The old mages have divided. Primarily into two factions: ones orchestrating escape to Mellgrah, and the ones opposing it."

Because of his subtle apprehension, Maya listened even more attentively, unconsciously picking at her skin with her fingers.

"There were clans feverishly reverent to the Prima Magae Family who saved Christine's baby."

"Oh, so she did give birth?" A spark of hope ignited in Maya, but was quickly extinguished as she read the atmosphere.

"Not exactly," Erik didn't want to crush her hopes. "As per Christine's last wish, the baby was cut out of her womb. With her last drop of power, she concealed traces of its absence, and the baby was raised in secret so that the bloodline could continue. Maya, you're a descendant of that bloodline."

Hearing Erik's revelation gave Maya a strange sensation. Suddenly, the tale felt oddly personal—it happened to her ancestors. She had speculated about a potential connection when Erik first mentioned that their powers were hereditary. However, the narrative seemed to suggest otherwise.

Now, with his explicit confirmation, the reality of her lineage dawned on her. She felt a kinship with the infant ripped from its mother's womb, birthed as a last-ditch effort to salvage a world tainted by wicked witches.

"Only a handful of families were privy to this truth, and even fewer remain that still hold those beliefs today," he revealed, a hint of melancholy clouding his normally steady demeanour. It was as if acknowledging this fact was a painful reminder of a past he wished to detach from. "I hail from one such family," he admitted, lifting his gaze to meet hers, finding unwavering intensity. "I was sent here to find you."

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Erik's words resonated with Maya, making the pieces fall into place. His strange protectiveness from their first encounter, his prompt acceptance of the responsibility to guide her, and the power she seemed to hold over him—they all pointed to the predestined role he was playing. He was destined to be her guardian, her stalwart knight.

"And that's how you know all this," Elena concluded, narrowing her eyes at him and cutting through their moment. It seemed that this was the only thing she kept wondering about in his stories.

He closed his eyes as if Elena's voice was a painful reminder of her presence. "Yes."

"Who's to say your story is true?" Elena continued probing. "That it isn't just another web of deceit spun by the opposition?"

Erik responded with calm assurance. "It has some credence, don't you think? It holds water better than what you were fed. Ultimately, you choose what you want to believe," he proclaimed. "I welcome a healthy dose of scepticism. I, myself, was raised as a mage in a world devoid of magic. Coming here affirmed my belief that I was one."

"Until you weren't," Elena interjected, her words sharp and cutting, implying that without a magical element, he couldn't truly be a mage.

Unfazed by Elena, Erik directed his words to Maya. "Don't take everything I say as absolute truth. It is only my perspective. I can attest that both sides have their share of guilt. I won't make excuses; my family has done its share of wrongs, too."

"The witches who govern this world… They are aware of families like yours?" Maya questioned.

Erik nodded solemnly. "We aren't exactly welcome guests here. I think you can tell why."

A simple account from the other side has managed to poke so many holes into the narrative Mellgrah calls its history.

"How come you're here then?" Elena persisted with her interrogation, not giving him a break for one second.

"I think this is enough for today," Erik, visibly tired, put an end to the discussion. "You still have an academy to attend, remember?"

Maya immediately protested, "No way! Not after everything you've just revealed."

"Maya, it's imperative that you maintain an air of ignorance. It's for your own protection. I'm unsure about who can be trusted," he implored. "Can you pretend as if everything is normal until we devise a plan?"

'We…'

Maya felt a flutter in her chest at his words. He considered himself a part of this, which meant he planned to see her again. The thought of getting to know him better sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through her.

"Does that mean I'm free to go, officer?" Elena teased. She rose and stepped into the sunlight.

"I can't keep you here," he responded, his gaze filled with a mixture of wariness and disdain. Although he figured out the sun wasn't harmful to her, the sight of her standing there still pulled his focus.

Elena joyfully pranced toward the door. However, Erik blocked her path with his sword still in its scabbard. His voice was stern and grave. "One day, you'll prove to be just like the rest of them. Then I'll be there to end you."

"Promise?" Elena flashed him a smile. "I'll hold you to it," she added, patting his chest to show she wasn't intimidated. Yet, her words held a certain seriousness.

She attempted to bypass him, but he blocked her path again.

"You have something of mine."

She sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes, then pulled out a grubby, blood-stained knife from her back. It was the same knife he had used to kill the vampire leader earlier. It felt like ages ago. She placed it in his outstretched hand.

"As if you don't have enough of those," she grumbled, clearly unhappy about not being able to add it to her collection. A knife that killed vampires was undoubtedly more practical than a wooden stake.

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