Nova’s POV
When I first opened my eyes, I thought I was dreaming. Everything felt hazy—like I was underwater, floating between sleep and waking. Then I heard him.
"Nova?!"
His voice was hoarse, raw, like he hadn’t spoken in days. When I blinked and saw his face—Eldur’s face—hovering above with silver eyes wide open and wild—I knew it was real. And the first word that slipped from my cracked lips was his na.
Everything after that felt like a blur of sounds and colors.
Mai’s scream made flinch. Ollie’s entrance with cake made laugh even though my body felt too weak to manage it. And Liam’s tight, bouncing hug with Mai was sohow the most ridiculous and sweetest thing I’d seen in a while.
But nothing compared to the way Eldur collapsed to his knees, his head buried in my lap like he was anchoring himself to the world again.
"I wasn’t going to leave you," I whispered, though I wasn’t even sure why I had to say it. Maybe to convince myself, maybe because I saw how lost he looked. I ran my fingers through his white hair, his warmth grounding .
And he whispered back, "You ca back," like I had done sothing miraculous.
Later that night, when everyone had finally stopped acting like I was made of glass—or, at least, when Juliette, Eldur’s stunning and intimidating mother, took over my pillow rearrangent duties—I felt normal again.
Or at least as normal as one can feel after waking up in what appears to be a mansion full of werewolves, vampires, and sarcasm.
"Careful," I teased Eldur as he hovered by my side with a bowl of soup like it was a bomb. "I might sneeze and combust."
"You’re not funny," he muttered, but he was trying not to smile. His voice still had that edge—always a little sharp—but I’d learned to read between the lines with him.
I took a spoonful and made a face. "Is this chicken or sorrow?"
"It’s literally chicken and sorrow. Mai cooked it."
"HEY!" ca Mai’s voice from the hallway.
Eldur smirked.
It felt good—laughing. Being here. Alive. Safe.
"Do you want to heat it up?" he asked, almost too quietly.
"No. It’s perfect," I said, looking at him. "You’ve been here the whole ti?"
Eldur sat on the edge of the bed, his hand finding mine again, his thumb stroking small circles on the back of it.
"I never left."
There was sothing heavy behind those words. Sothing terrifying. He looked... tired. Not physically—no, he still looked like the perfect storm he always did, white hair falling into silver eyes, his dark clothes and sharp jaw making him look like so fallen prince. But his eyes—his eyes carried the weight of tiredness.
"Eldur," I said gently, "what happened to ?"
He looked down, and I saw his jaw clench.
"You were attacked," he said finally. "Not by anyone you need to worry about anymore. They’re... handled."
Sothing in his voice made my skin prickle.
"Handled?" I asked.
"I took care of it."
There was no pause. No flicker of doubt. Just cold, unshakable resolve. And for a heartbeat, it terrified —how far he was willing to go, how much darkness he was willing to wade through... for . I kept dragging him into chaos, making everything ssier. So why did he still choose , over and over again?
But then... he looked at .
And just like that, the fear slipped away.
Because in those silver eyes, I didn’t see a monster.
I saw pain. Desperation. Love—raw, relentless love.
"I didn’t think I could lose you," he said softly. "I would’ve ripped the world apart."
"Was I... really that bad?" I asked.
Eldur’s lips curled into a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "You flatlined. Twice."
A breath caught in my throat. "Oh," I exhaled, barely able to process that.
Without a word, he lifted my hand and pressed a gentle kiss to my knuckles. "But you didn’t give up," he murmured. "And neither did I."
The silence that followed wasn’t heavy. It wrapped around us like a soft blanket, thick with unspoken emotions. From downstairs, I could hear Mai arguing with Ollie—sothing ridiculous about soone leaving socks on the kitchen counter again—and Liam, ever the peacemaker, trying to play referee. His voice had this golden retriever energy, full of patience and mild panic.
I smiled faintly. I hadn’t realized how thin the palace walls were. Or maybe it was just how loud love sounded when it was real.
Still... I hated the wheelchair.
The way it squeaked whenever I moved. The way it made feel smaller, breakable. Like so glass doll pretending to be iron. I hated how people looked at with too much concern, too much carefulness. I hated the reminder that I wasn’t strong—not yet.
But even in that frustration, in all my bitterness and vulnerability, I couldn’t feel entirely miserable.
Because Eldur was with .
Always.
Every breath, every turn, every awkward shuffle—I never moved without him. He was there, walking just ahead or behind, eyes sharp like he expected the world to try and snatch away again. His presence was like a forcefield, cold to everyone else but warm to . Safe.
I still rembered that first ti I asked to go downstairs after being cooped up in bed too long. I expected him to wheel down. Instead, he picked up.
Like it was nothing.
As if I weighed less than his guilt.
He carried down those marble steps like I was the most precious thing he’d ever touched. There was sothing in the way his arms cradled —fierce, careful, reverent. I rember pressing my ear to his chest just to listen. His heartbeat was wild, steady, alive. It was the only rhythm I needed to feel real again.
And then... there was this place.
This castle of shadows and whispered magic. This strange, surreal world full of people who weren’t quite people. Yet here, for the first ti in my entire life... I was loved.
Not tolerated. Not a burden. Not soone to be endured with heavy sighs.
I was seen. Wanted. Cared for.
Eldur’s mother would sit beside for hours, brushing through my ss of hair with this tender patience I didn’t even know mothers could have. She called "star-girl." I never had the courage to ask why, but it made my cheeks glow every ti. I didn’t feel worthy of a na like that.
But she said it like she ant it.
Eldur’s father, the charming vampire who moved like liquid elegance, always made sure I had my favorite snacks, even when I didn’t know what I wanted. He spoke with this old-soul calmness that made feel like nothing bad could touch if he was in the room. He once told , "You have a soul that calms the wild in my son, Nova. That makes you more powerful than any creature I’ve ever known." Then he winked and handed a bowl of strawberries dipped in literal gold dust.
Even Eldur’s Elizabeth—who could make a grown Alpha cry with a single glare—would read to at night when I couldn’t sleep. She always pretended it was for , but I knew she liked it too. She stayed behind even when the others left, and she rarely left my side, watching with these curious eyes like she knew sothing I didn’t.
Uncle Lucian and Auntie Teresa, literal billionaires with empires under their nas, had made it their mission to spoil . They bought a wardrobe so big that I get confused of what to wear—and I still wore Eldur’s sweatshirts most of the ti. Teresa tried to teach how to do a smoky eye. I ended up looking like a raccoon. We laughed so hard I nearly fell off my chair.
It was insane. Wild. Terrifying.
But it was the happiest I had ever been.
I’d never had a family before.
Not since Mom left us to chase fa, not since Dad stumbled into darkness and never ca back out.
But here... in this strange house filled with werewolves and vampires and ancient bloodlines and magic I couldn’t begin to understand... I had people fighting to push in my wheelchair just because they wanted to be close.
They fought over who got to feed .
Who got to braid my hair.
Who got to carry upstairs.
Even when I was asleep, soone was always there—watching like I was a fragile princess under a curse. It was weird at first. Terrifying, even. But... then it wasn’t. Then it just felt like love.
Eldur hated having to share . He’d literally growl when soone else picked up before he could. Adrian would just smirk and say, "Jealousy is very unbecoming of a Daegon." Juliette would cackle and say, "He gets it from my side."
I’d never felt so... treasured.
A week later, things shifted.
Mai, Liam, and Ollie had to go back to their pack life. The goodbye was dramatic and full of kisses and awkward attempts to lift out of the chair. Mai cried, then threatened Eldur with a fork if he didn’t take good care of . Liam promised to visit. Ollie forgot his backpack and had to be teleported back by Mai.
Lucian and Teresa joined their children, but not without giving enough jewelry to make look like an empress and enough snacks to feed a small nation. Teresa kissed my forehead and whispered, "You’re not just Eldur’s anymore. You’re ours too."
I cried after they left. Quietly. In the hallway, behind the giant stone pillar.
Elizabeth found . She didn’t say anything—just sat down beside and handed a tissue like she knew.
Life settled into a strange rhythm.
Mornings with Elizabeth. Mid-day naps. Long walks in the garden with Eldur—okay, he walked, I wheeled—and long conversations where he’d tell about the stars or magic or the things he wanted to show one day.
But sothing weird was happening.
My hearing was sharper. Like... weirdly sharp. I could hear Elizabeth humming down the hall when I was in the library. I slled Adrian’s cologne before he entered the room. And once—I swear—I told a maid exactly where Eldur was just by slling his sweet spicy scent from the garden. It was like I was a bloodhound or sothing.
I didn’t say anything, though. I an, I was clearly overwheld. The whole "supernatural" thing was rubbing off on . That had to be it. Right?
Humans don’t just... develop superpowers. That’s not how it works.
Right?
One afternoon, I rolled out into the sunroom, where Eldur was pacing. He looked up the second I entered. His whole face changed.
"Hey," I said, trying not to smile at how dramatic he looked just from seeing .
"You’re up early," he said, walking over.
"I didn’t want to miss another minute with you." I grinned, and he blushed slightly. Eldur Daegon, destroyer of worlds, was a blusher. Only for .
He knelt beside , brushing my hair behind my ear. "What’s on your mind?"
"I want to go back to school."
He blinked. "What?"
"I want to go back to school," I repeated. "I miss Lara. I miss classes. I want to feel normal again, Eldur."
He tilted his head. "Do you think you’ll be ok? With... everything."
I glanced away. "I know I initially avoided going back because I was afraid—afraid of how people would look at in a wheelchair. But I’m done hiding. I’m done being afraid while everyone else keeps living their lives."
He was silent for a long ti.
Then, quietly, "Okay."
My eyes snapped to him. "Wait, really?"
He smiled. "Nova, you could tell you wanted to beco a skydiving instructor and I’d still say okay—as long as I’m with you."
I laughed. "You? In a parachute?"
"I’d fly us down myself."
"Of course you would." I rolled my eyes. "All mysterious and majestic and totally incapable of being normal."
His eyes softened. "You don’t have to be normal, Nova. You’re already perfect."
I swallowed hard. "Eldur..."
He stood and leaned forward, resting his forehead against mine. "We’ll go back. Every class, every hallway—I’ll be there. You’ll never be alone again."
My heart thudded. "Thank you."
He pulled back, brushing his fingers along my cheek. "Just one condition."
"What?"
"You have to keep wearing my sweatshirts."
I laughed through my tears. "Deal."
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