One more thing.
Her gaze drifted across the pair as she spoke.
"Lugh is mine."
"Huh?"
The room grew quiet.
Selaphiel continued speaking, seemingly oblivious to Jahira, who had suddenly found the nearby walls imnsely interesting.
"What I an to say is, Lugh has to get married... to . If, of course, he wants to beco the Head of the Von Heim household."
Lugh frowned, piecing it together.
This wasn’t jealousy. Far from it. Selaphiel had already assessed the situation.
Her perceptiveness likely told her there was nothing to worry about, no hidden romance or budding threat.
More than that, she had already told him about this in private. Which ant... this was just theater.
A smokescreen.
A believable, natural excuse for the rest of the Von Heim cousins—his rivals for succession—to know about it, without her appearing coercive or overtly manipulative.
It wasn’t about affection. It was politics. Cold, calculated, and efficient. And Lyra, had unknowingly handed her the perfect opening.
Such information had only one purpose, to back Lugh into a tight corner. And, revealing it had to be done with finesse. Anything too direct and Selaphiel’s image would crumble.
Rumors of blackmailing her own grandson into marriage could easily spiral. Her reputation had always been carefully constructed, and she’d do nothing to fracture it.
A silence stretched between them. Tense, brittle.
"Uh... okay,"
Lyra answered, visibly confused as to why the elf felt the need to tell her this at all.
"Good."
Selaphiel reclined into the sofa, her posture relaxed. Mission complete.
Lyra stared at her with visible suspicion, clearly unsure what to make of her.
The awkward mont was split in two by a familiar, uninvited voice.
It belonged to Enji.
Lugh sighed before the words were even spoken.
"Lady Selaphiel! I wouldn’t mind marrying you!"
She humored him, lifting an amused brow.
"Ah. In that case, I’ll keep you as a backup in case Lugh forfeits his position."
"Sweet,"
Enji grinned, not missing a beat.
"Once I beco Family Head, I’ll make a decree that everyone has to wear blindfolds!"
This dude was too much. That was the consensus forming in everyone’s mind.
The joke, careless and loud, was more than just his usual absurdity—it was an admission. Enji had already given up on pursuing the title of family head.
The serious contenders, still sharpening their ambitions, said nothing. But their eyes locked onto Selaphiel with new weight.
Her words echoed.
"If Lugh forfeits his position."
That wasn’t sothing you said casually. To forfeit implied possession. That Lugh had already won.
And if Lugh had already won... that changed everything.
But even in adversity, there was always opportunity. Selaphiel had added a condition, hadn’t she? A marriage.
Normally, none of them would hesitate—political unions were par for the course. But Lugh’s relationship with Lyra was still... uncertain. Unconfird. A gray area ripe for manipulation.
This was their chance.
The surface remained cordial. But beneath that surface, blades were drawn. Sches forming. Rivalries calculating.
That was when the door slamd open with a thunderous, violent force.
All heads turned.
Soone strode in. An elf—tall and radiant. Her auburn hair was a darker shade than Lyra’s, though the resemblance was unmistakable.
She wore a regal gown of black and gold, flowing like smoke around her figure. Each step she took was laced with quiet fury, asured grace concealing the storm beneath.
Her sharp eyes surveyed the room, landing squarely on Selaphiel.
"You—you—How dare you step foot in my house!"
"Zhou"
Selaphiel replied, entirely unbothered.
"It’s nice to et you too."
"Oh, teache—"
Lyra began, only for Lugh to pull her sharply back, arm snapping out like a whip.
With no ti wasted, he manifested a thick, reinforced magical barrier—layers of reinforced geotry encasing the group in translucent shimr.
And then—
An explosion of light.
It tore through the chamber like divine judgnt.
Jahira moved instantly, instinct overriding thought, throwing up her own protections to shield the younger mbers of the Von Heim line who hadn’t been covered by Lugh’s barrier.
A phantasmal whirlwind, radiant and white-hot, ripped into the space with destructive grace.
The winds howled with feral intensity, overturning elegant tables, shredding the ornate drapery, reducing once-priceless paintings into ash.
Marble cracked like eggshell beneath its weight. Lamps burst in waves of hot, burning glass. Even the walls groaned from the pressure.
But all of that destruction... was collateral.
The main attack was focused entirely on Selaphiel.
She stood in its center, her barrier pulsing violently, edges fracturing and repairing in quick succession.
Cracks spider-webbed through her defenses. The blast clawed at her, trying to consu her whole. But she did not falter.
To the bystanders, the engagent lasted no more than a few seconds.
To those inside the magic storm, it felt like half an hour of hell.
When the dust finally settled, all that remained of the once-lavish chamber was a carcass of luxury.
The furniture was overturned or split in half.
Dust curled in heavy, choking clouds. Neatly ground stone crunched underfoot, and splinters of wood lay embedded in the walls like shrapnel from a warzone.
Lugh was surprised by the devastation. Not even Lance’s rampage at the Von Heim Manor compared to this.
"Selaphiel! Die! Die!"
The woman shrieked with furious clarity.
Selaphiel’s voice cut through the haze.
"What the hell is the matter with you?! You put my family in danger! Are you trying to get on my bad side, Zhou?!"
"You selfish bitch!"
Zhou scread, mana flaring like wildfire.
"They only matter when they’re your family, is that it?!"
"Exactly."
Selaphiel didn’t rebuke her. She didn’t need to.
"You—you—I’ll kill you!"
Mana pulsed again. Zhou’s hands moved, fingers weaving through sigils. Another spell was coming.
Selaphiel retaliated instantly.
A high-pitched burst tore through the air, like the scream of a siren turned into a weapon. The sound wasn’t just heard—it invaded.
The magical shockwave radiated outward, spreading in a perfectly symtrical do.
Lugh’s barrier shivered, then shattered like glass under pressure.
The sound word its way into his mind, bypassing his ears entirely. His vision tunneled.
The ringing beca unbearable. He dropped to one knee, clutching his head, as if trying to contain a brain splitting apart.
Lyra didn’t fare much better. His cousins were worse—so collapsed, others writhed on the floor in agony, mouths open in silent screams.
They weren’t the target. These were just the aftershocks.
Gritting his teeth, Lugh forced himself upright, swaying, refusing to let his consciousness falter.
The elf who had been struck stumbled backward, catching herself against a cracked marble wall.
Her balance was failing, but she refused to fall. Blood trickled from her ear, a single crimson stream rolling down her neck and dripping onto the ruined floor.
Then she chuckled.
Dark. Malevolent.
"Good... Very good. Let’s do this."
The air behind her warped, as if reality itself had been pinched. From that distortion, a grotesque hand began to erge.
Long, bony fingers clawed out from the tear, gripping onto reality itself. It oozed malice, an aura so dreadful it burned the senses.
"Zhou! Are you being serious right now?!"
Selaphiel shouted, her voice sharp with sothing close to real concern—for the first ti.
Elsewhere, on the upper floors of the Cross Manor, in a wide, sunlit room heavy with silks and scent, the sheets stirred.
Xhi awoke, her eyes narrowing in irritation.
"What are they doing now?"
She muttered under her breath.
Then, silently, she slipped from the bed.
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