CHAPTER 7- A LOST MEMORY REMEMBERED

The air in the grand hall of Nyxveil Mansion was thick with tension, a palpable force that coiled around me like a serpent ready to strike.

The shattered stained-glass windows cast fractured golden light across the room, illuminating the swirling dust motes and the faint shimmer of magic that lingered in the air.

The scent of aged wood and polished marble mingled with the faint aroma of autumn leaves carried in by the breeze, a reminder of the world outside these walls—a world that felt both familiar and alien to me.

I stood at the edge of the room, my posture rigid, my heart a tempest beneath the calm exterior I so carefully maintained. My gown, , clung to my frame like a second skin, the fabric whispering against the floor as I shifted my weight. My eyes, a flickered with a mixture of emotions I refused to let surface when I watched him.

Ezekian Seraphiel Nordwyn.

The name alone was enough to send a shiver down my spine. He moved with the grace of a predator, his presence commanding the room as though it were his birthright. His golden eyes, molten and piercing, swept over the assembled guests before settling on me.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. The hatred I had grown accustomed to seeing in those eyes was absent, replaced by something far more dangerous—curiosity.

He was younger than I remembered, his features softer, less hardened by the weight of decades of power and loss. But the intensity in his gaze was the same, a fire that threatened to consume everything in its path.

His attire was a masterpiece of dark elegance, the black silk of his coat embroidered with threads of crimson and gold, the fabric catching the light as he moved. The high collar framed his elegant throat, and the chains of delicate gold draped across his shoulders seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly glow.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I fought to steady my breathing. My aura, a swirling mass of energy within me, reacted to the turmoil in my chest, gathering around my heart in an attempt to calm the storm.

But it was no use. The sight of him, so close yet so far, was enough to unravel the carefully constructed walls around my heart.

I remembered a long-forgotten past, something that had started the bad blood between us.

It was nearly thirty two years ago, a lifetime for some, but for me, it felt like yesterday. The pain of that memory, buried deep within me, surged to the surface, threatening to overwhelm me.

I glanced at Alancia, who stood beside me, her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide with enchantment. She looked at Ezekian as if he were the most beautiful being in the world, and I felt a pang of bitterness twist in my chest.

How could I have forgotten? Had I grown so old, or was the memory simply too painful to bear?

Before Alancia married Kaelith as part of the deal I had struck with the late Emperor to protect her from being killed, she had been engaged to Ezekian.

His father had wanted someone from the Nyxveil bloodline to marry into the Nordwyn family, and my father had initially proposed an engagement between me and Ezekian. I had thrown countless tantrums, refusing to marry someone I didn't know, but my father had dismissed my protests as usual.

When Ezekian arrived, Alancia had fallen for him at first sight. It wasn't love at first sight for me, though.

Over the two weeks he stayed at Nyxveil Mansion, we had grown closer. He had been kind to me, perhaps because he thought I would be his fiancée and future wife.

But I, who had always felt the absence of love, had fallen for his unsaid and unconditional kindness.

We had explored the Imperial Capital together, sneaked out of the mansion dressed as commoners to enjoy the spring festival, and even sparred.

Ezekian had always enjoyed sparring, just like me—but he was better. Far better. I had lost count of how many times I had fallen, bruised and battered, only to have him heal me afterward.

His touch was steady, his power warm, sinking into my skin like the very essence of comfort. It was then that I first realized how divine healing could feel—soft, soothing, almost like an embrace. A luxury I had rarely known. 

Most healers never wasted their magic on me. Their priority was always Alancia or my brother. 

I learned that lesson early. I was eight when all three of us were in a carriage accident. The healers rushed to Dain and Alancia without hesitation, their hands glowing with magic, their focus unwavering. When I asked for help, my mother's voice cut through the chaos—calm, matter-of-fact, as if she were discussing the weather rather than her daughter's pain. 

*"Alancia is weaker than you, Selantia. And Dain is the heir. You heal faster than either of them, so you'll be fine, won't you?"* 

That was the moment I understood. In their eyes, I was strong enough to endure being overlooked. Strong enough to bleed without complaint, to ache without comfort.

It wasn't a compliment; it was a dismissal. A reminder that my pain was insignificant compared to theirs. 

And yet, with Ezekian, it had been different. 

During those two weeks he spent at Nyxveil Mansion, he had treated me with a kindness I hadn't known I craved. Every time I fell during our sparring matches, he was there, his hands glowing with golden light, his touch gentle as he mended my wounds. I had tried to brush him off at first, insisting I was fine, that I didn't need his help. But he had ignored my protests, his gaze steady, his voice firm. 

*"You don't have to endure everything alone, Selantia,"* he had said once, his golden eyes locking onto mine. *"Strength isn't about suffering in silence."* 

I hadn't known how to respond. His words had struck something deep within me, something raw and vulnerable that I had buried long ago.

For the first time, I had felt seen—not as the strong, unbreakable daughter who could handle anything, but as someone who deserved care, too.

But that had been a lifetime ago.

Before the engagement was broken. Before Alancia had claimed him as her own. Before he had become my enemy. 

Now, standing in the grand hall of Nyxveil Mansion, I felt the weight of those memories pressing down on me.

Ezekian's presence was a storm I couldn't escape, his golden eyes piercing through the walls I had built around myself. I could feel his gaze on me, heavy and unrelenting, as if he were trying to unravel the secrets I kept buried deep within. 

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I fought to steady my breathing. My aura surged within me, a protective barrier against the emotions threatening to spill over. But it was no use. The sight of him, so close yet so far, was enough to unravel the carefully constructed walls around my heart. 

"Selantia," my mother's voice whispered in my ear, sharp and insistent. Her fingers pinched my back, a silent command to snap out of my thoughts. 

I stepped forward, my movements measured and deliberate. Gathering the edges of my gown between my fingertips, I bent my knees, sinking into a deep curtsey. My back remained straight, my movements fluid, every motion a quiet display of respect. 

"Thank you for gracing us with your presence, Young Duke," I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging within me.

"I am Selantia Amaris Nyxveil, eldest daughter of the Duke of Nyxveil." 

The weight of his presence settled over me like a phantom touch, but I did not waver.

Lowering my head, I let my lashes sweep downward, the strands of my hair slipping over my shoulder as the fabric of my dress pooled around me in soft ripples. I held the position, motionless, waiting—until I felt it. 

A pause. A shift in the air. Acknowledgment. 

Only then did I rise, slow and controlled, my heart steady even as my pulse betrayed me. My eyes lifted—just enough—to meet his, and for a breath, I drowned in the golden fire that watched me back. 

Ezekian lowered his head slightly and held out his right hand, a gesture of formal greeting. I placed my hand in his, and he brought it to his lips, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through me. His lips brushed the back of my hand, a fleeting contact that felt like a brand. 

"You are just as beautiful as His Grace, the Duke, praised you for," he said, his voice low and smooth. "I am Ezekian Seraphiel Nordwyn, son of the Grand Duke of Nordwyn." 

I withdrew my hand, my fingers tingling from the contact. My aura surged within me, a protective barrier against the emotions threatening to spill over. I forced a polite smile, one that didn't reach my eyes. 

"I would say my father exaggerates about his children, but being able to satisfy you is my pleasure, Young Duke Nordwyn," I replied, my tone carefully neutral. 

Ezekian's lips curved into a faint smile, one that didn't reach his eyes either. "I don't think His Grace exaggerated anything, My Lady." 

The tension between us was palpable, a silent battle of wills that neither of us was willing to concede. I could feel the weight of my family's gazes on me, their expectations and judgments pressing down on me like a physical force. 

"Selantia, why don't you show Young Duke around the mansion?" my mother's voice cut through the silence, polite but firm. 

I glanced at Alancia, who was practically glowing with excitement. Her eyes were fixed on Ezekian, and I could see the longing in them. She had always believed she deserved the most beautiful things in the world, and Ezekian was no exception. 

I am really not in mood to fighte with that immature sister of mine. She would throw tantrum to get engaged to Ezekien again. So, just have him the way you want. He would never love me anyway.

"I would like to apologize, but I have something urgent to attend to," I said, my voice calm and measured. Both my father and mother looked at me in shock, but I didn't give them a chance to protest.

I stepped back and gave Ezekian a quick bow. "My younger sister is more pleasing company than I am, Young Duke. I would like to take my leave." 

I turned and walked away, my steps steady despite the turmoil within me. I could feel Ezekian's gaze on my back, a weight that followed me until I was out of sight.

My father's glare burned into me, but I ignored it. His hatred was nothing new, and I had more important things to worry about. 

If God had sent me back in time, it was for a reason. I had a mission, a purpose far greater than my own heartache. This time, I would not let the House of Nyxveil fall. I would not lose the people I loved. And I would not let Ezekian Nordwyn break me again. I won't let the Empire become a mess again. 

I DIDN'T WASTE FUCKING 30 YEARS OF MY LIFE TO DO IT ALL OVER AGAIN. So, why not just stop the spark before it becomes a wildflower and burns down everything.

Thinking about Ezekien would just hurt me more. I had done my best in my past life for him to look at me but all I got in return is his pure hatred and constant accusations.

Love was one thing, but my self-respect was another. So, I didn't let him walk over me and we clashed. Again and again, inside the court or outside the court.

Since I can't grow any romantic relationship with Ezekian like I wished to, I will just grow a mutually beneficial one. After all, I would need his help to stop the history from repeating itself.

It's okay. In life, one can't have everything they want. I am just simply not made to be loved.