Seraphine Bloodline Part (3)

"Stella, where have you been?" Grisha said as he pulled her into a hug.

Grisha, cousin to Stella through Lumine's older brother Gable, sounded sorrowful—but his embrace felt stiff, and his expression didn't match his tone. Something beneath his eyes was… unpleased.

A second voice cut in from the dining table. It was old, sharp, and cold.

Swirling a wine glass in his hand, Gable—Stella's uncle and the new head of House Seraphine—looked over with thinly veiled disgust.

"Looks like the gods refuse to let peasants find peace."

Grisha gently guided Stella to a chair at the long table. She sat down quietly. Cornelia bowed respectfully to the head of the house and slipped away, her exit as graceful as always—but slower now, perhaps in silent protest.

"I was thinking," Gable said, his voice like ice scraping steel, "that once the rot was cut away, I'd finally get what I deserved. But this—" He spat out the wine he'd just tasted onto the polished floor. "This is disgusting."

Servants rushed in, trembling as they cleaned the mess. Fear hung in the air like fog.

Once, when Lumine led the Seraphine family, this mansion had warmth. Laughter echoed in its halls, light poured through the windows, and everyone moved with pride.

Now it stood cold.

When Lumine was alive, Gable had never once stepped foot in the mansion—or at least, not to Stella's knowledge. Only Grisha had ever visited. Gable was nothing more than a name in Lumine's cautionary tales and a face in faded family portraits.

Now, here he was, sitting at the head of the table as if he'd always belonged.

"The great Egotheon truly has plans for me," Gable said, his voice bloated with pride. "Unlike the ungrateful, he has given me a purpose. A divine task."

His gaze landed squarely on Stella.

Stella's heart skipped. So this is it… it must be about the dead artifact.

She took a slow breath and replied, voice steady and poised, "Congratulations on being blessed by the great Egotheon. You must be very proud to finally serve him directly."

Grisha blinked, caught off guard. He hadn't expected Stella—so young, so recently returned—to understand how to play the noble game.

Gable, meanwhile, looked pleased. His ego swelled like a sponge in wine.

"Well," he said with a smirk, "you may be young and foolish, but at least you understand how nobles converse. It's in your blood, after all. Even if you are… one of the lesser branches of Seraphine."

His words were knives wrapped in velvet, but Stella didn't flinch.

The ego swelling inside Gable made him eager to show off.

"The great Egotheon appeared before me just a few days ago," he said, leaning in with smug delight. "Do you understand how rare, how divine it is to witness one of the Seven with your own eyes? He told me to look after the—"

"Ah—hey, Dad!" Grisha cut in quickly, his tone forced and bright. "Stella just got back. Maybe she needs some time to rest?"

Gable blinked. He realized too late how close he had come to revealing the task entrusted to him.

"Ah. Right," he said, clearing his throat. "You may be dismissed."

Stella bowed her head slightly and walked out, followed by Grisha.

Once the doors shut behind her, Gable exhaled. "Phew. That was close."

He didn't notice the flicker of unease in Grisha's eyes.

"If not for Grisha, I would've blurted it all out," Gable muttered to himself. "The task… no one can know. This is my chance to prove I'm the greatest Seraphine to have ever lived. The rightful head. Not that badblood child of Lumine."

His expression darkened.

"No… I won't let this slip through my fingers. I should check the chamber. Make sure everything is still in place."

And with that, he stormed off, pride burning like wildfire, blind to the storm that Stella's return might bring.

---

On the way out of the dining hall, Grisha spoke softly behind her."Don't mind my dad. He's just... burning with pride."

Stella didn't turn back. She kept walking, her voice small."Is he always like that? This is my first time seeing him. He's... scary."

At the end of her sentence, she turned her head—eyes wide, lips trembling just slightly—the expression only a frightened child could wear.

Grisha paused. His face softened, some of the tension in his jaw easing. A flicker of relief passed through him.

Stella noticed. She didn't know why her presence had made him so uneasy when she arrived. But now, seeing that look on his face, she stayed cautious. Careful. She let herself act the role of the innocent girl.

"Little Stella must be scared," Grisha said, kneeling to her level. "Don't worry. Your brother is here now. I'll protect you."

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

Grisha led her down the hallway and into her old room. When the door closed, silence filled the space. The weight of it was suffocating. She walked to the window and sat in the chair in front of it, the light casting long shadows across the floor.

She exhaled and began to rehearse—whispering under her breath the teachings Elias had passed down to her.

The Lost Maho.