Take Me Away, Dark Lord!

But it was his features that paralyzed her.

He possessed hair as black as absolute midnight, falling in loose, slightly messy waves around a face that was sharp, aristocratic, and hauntingly melancholic. His skin was pale, almost luminous in the moonlight.

And his eyes.

His eyes were not the violet of the Nachts, nor the green or blue of the South.

They were pitch black.

Seraphina froze.

In the entire Empire, she had never seen anyone with black hair and black eyes.

It was a genetic impossibility in this world. And it was the exact, specific coloring that she possessed.

The stranger wasn’t looking at the gardens.

He was looking directly at her.

His black eyes were wide, filled with a sudden, overwhelming, heartbreaking mixture of shock, sorrow, and a desperate, fragile hope.

He took a slow, hesitant step forward, as if terrified that sudden movement would shatter the illusion before him. He reached out a trembling, pale hand toward her face, though he stopped a few inches away, refusing to actually touch her.

”Cecil...?” the man whispered.

His voice was like a physical blow. It was deep, velvet, and cracked with the weight of a thousand years of grief.

Seraphina blinked.

’Cecil?’ she thought, her brow furrowing in confusion.

She didn’t know that name.

She had never heard it before. But the moment the syllables left his lips, a strange, terrifying, unexplainable phantom ache echoed in the very deepest, most locked-away corner of her Supreme Dark Core.

It felt like a memory of a memory, something ancient and buried, trying to claw its way to the surface.

”I am not Cecil,” Seraphina said, her voice clear, though she found she couldn’t tear her gaze away from his black eyes. ”My name is Seraphina. Seraphina von Nacht.”

The man stopped.

His hand hovered in the air.

He stared at her face. He looked at her dark hair, her black eyes, the shape of her jaw.

An incredibly tragic, self-deprecating smile touched his lips. He slowly lowered his hand, taking a step back, leaning against the railing once more.

”Of course,” the stranger murmured, his voice regaining its smooth, melancholic composure, though the sorrow in his eyes remained absolute. ”Forgive me, Lady Seraphina. It was a foolish, desperate trick of the moonlight. You merely... you bear an impossible, striking resemblance to someone I used to know.”

”Who is Cecil?” Seraphina asked, her curiosity overriding her caution.

She didn’t sense any malice from him. She only sensed a sadness so profound it felt like a physical weight in the air.

The stranger looked out over the gardens.

The moonlight caught the sharp, beautiful lines of his profile.

”She was...” He paused, searching for the word. ”She was someone... I deeply cherished. She was the only light in a very dark, very cold existence. And I lost her, many years ago. I have searched the edges of the continent, the depths of the abyss, and the halls of the gods, and I cannot find her.”

He turned his head, looking back at Seraphina.

”When I saw you standing there, with hair like midnight and eyes like the void...” He offered a soft, utterly devastating smile. ”For a fraction of a second, I thought the universe had finally shown me mercy.”

Seraphina stared at the beautiful, tragic stranger.

Her adult mind was racing. ’Black hair. Black eyes. A lost woman named Cecil. A resemblance so strong it made him freeze. Is this... what is this feeling in my heart?’

Before she could ask a single question, the stranger pushed off the railing.

He didn’t walk toward the door. He simply took a step backward, melting into the shadows of the pillar.

”It was a pleasure to meet you, Seraphina von Nacht,” the stranger whispered, his voice echoing from the darkness, though his physical body was already fading, dissolving into the night air like a ghost. ”You have beautiful eyes. Do not let the Empire dull them.”

”Wait!” Seraphina called out, taking a step forward. ”Who are you, Uncle?!”

But the balcony was empty.

The stranger was gone.

Her Spirit Sight hadn’t detected a teleportation spell. He had simply vanished, leaving behind only the scent of rain and cold stone.

Seraphina stood alone in the moonlight, her heart pounding, her mind reeling from the world-altering lore drop that had just been casually handed to her by a ridiculously handsome ghost-man.

”SERAPHINA!”

The frantic, roaring, terrified voice of Duke Kaelus von Nacht shattered the silence of the balcony.

The heavy silk curtains were almost aggressively ripped off their brass rods.

Kaelus burst onto the balcony.

He looked like a man possessed by a demon. His midnight-blue coat was askew, his hair was wild, and his violet eyes were burning with a manic, catastrophic panic.

He had escaped the Emperor’s meeting, gone to the children’s pavilion, found Castor and Pollux aggressively guarding a chocolate fountain, and realized his daughter was missing. He had nearly leveled the East Wing trying to find her.

Kaelus saw her standing by the railing.

He crossed the balcony in two massive strides, dropping to his knees, snatching Seraphina into his arms, crushing her against his chestplate with a desperate, tight embrace.

”I have found you,” Kaelus gasped, his voice raw, burying his face in her neck, his entire massive frame shaking with the adrenaline crash. ”You are safe. I have found you. Light preserve me, do not wander off again. I thought... I thought they took you.”

Seraphina wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him back fiercely. She could feel the wild, erratic pounding of his heart against his armor.

She looked over his shoulder, staring at the empty shadow where the mysterious stranger had stood.

’He is my Papa,’ Seraphina thought, holding Kaelus tighter, anchoring herself to the terrifying, overprotective warlord who loved her more than life itself. ’Whoever that stranger was, whoever Cecil is... it doesn’t change anything. The hedgehog is my family.’

”I’m here, I’m right here, Papa.”