The Unveiling: A Mother's Truth and a Demon's Claim

The weight of what I'd just witnessed between Jaxon and Rhys still lingered in my mind as we pulled up to the aging brick building that housed my mother. I stared through the car window at the Gothic-style architecture with its ivy-covered walls. The place looked more like a haunted mansion than a psychiatric facility.

"This is it," I said, my voice hollow as I unbuckled my seatbelt. "Westbrook Psychiatric Hospital."

My hands trembled slightly. Today was the day I'd say goodbye to my mother—not permanently, but in a way that felt just as final. After today, she wouldn't know about the supernatural world that had consumed our lives. She wouldn't remember the terror that had driven her into this place.

And she wouldn't remember me as her daughter.

"You don't have to go through with this," Silas said gently from beside me, his hand covering mine.

"I do," I insisted, blinking back tears. "She deserves peace. A life by the beach without fear consuming her every waking moment."

Kaelen sat stoically in the driver's seat, his blue eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror. "The arrangements have been made. She'll have everything she needs—a comfortable home, medical care, a cover story for her past."

"I know." I swallowed hard. "It's just—"

"Hard to let go," Rhys finished for me, squeezing my other hand.

Jaxon remained silent beside Rhys, staring out the window with his jaw clenched. Since the bathroom incident two days ago, he'd been even more withdrawn than usual, barely speaking except when necessary.

Ronan leaned forward from the third row. "We'll be right with you, Hazel. Every step."

Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the car door. "I want you all to meet her. Before... before everything changes."

The five men exchanged glances, clearly surprised by my request.

"Are you sure that's wise?" Kaelen asked, his eyebrows drawing together. "Your mother's condition—"

"She's having a good day," I cut in. "The nurses told me on the phone this morning. Please. It's important to me."

After a moment, Kaelen nodded. "Very well."

We walked through the entrance as a group, drawing curious glances from staff who weren't accustomed to seeing a young woman accompanied by five imposing men. The receptionist, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, greeted me by name.

"Hazel, dear. Clara's in the art room today. She's been looking forward to your visit."

I forced a smile. "Thank you, Helen."

The corridors smelled of disinfectant and sadness. I'd walked these halls hundreds of times since my mother was committed, but today felt different. Final.

"She doesn't know," I whispered as we approached the art room. "About the memory alteration. The doctors thought it best not to tell her."

"You're doing the right thing," Kaelen said firmly. "She'll be happier."

I paused outside the door. "She might say some... strange things. About demons and monsters. It's part of her delusion."

"We understand," Silas reassured me, his eyes sympathetic behind his glasses.

I pushed open the door to reveal a bright room with large windows. Several patients sat at tables, painting or drawing under the supervision of an attendant. My mother sat alone in the corner, her dark hair—so like mine—streaked with premature gray, her thin fingers working meticulously on a watercolor landscape.

"Mom?" I called softly.

She looked up, her face breaking into a smile that momentarily erased the years of suffering. "Hazel! My beautiful girl."

I crossed to her, wrapping my arms around her frail form. She smelled of hospital soap and the lavender oil I brought her last visit.

"I brought some people I want you to meet," I said, pulling back to gesture at my bonds and Kaelen, who stood awkwardly by the door.

My mother's eyes widened as she took them in. The paintbrush dropped from her fingers, blue watercolor bleeding across her painting like a stain.

"No," she whispered, her face draining of color. "No, no, no..."

"Mom, it's okay," I said quickly, alarmed by her reaction. "These are my friends."

"Demons," she hissed, shrinking back in her chair. "Blue-eyed demons. They've found us."

My stomach dropped. I'd expected some paranoia, but this specific reaction sent a chill down my spine.

"Mrs. Thorne," Kaelen stepped forward, his voice gentle, "we're not here to—"

"YOU!" My mother's scream cut through the room like a knife. She pointed a shaking finger at Kaelen. "The king of demons himself! Stay away from my daughter!"

The attendant rushed over. "Clara, please calm down—"

"It's okay," I told the flustered woman. "We'll handle this." I turned back to my mother, taking her trembling hands in mine. "Mom, look at me. Just me. They're my friends. No one is going to hurt you."

Her wild eyes fixed on mine, tears spilling down her hollow cheeks. "You don't understand, Hazel. I've spent my life protecting you from them."

Behind me, I heard Jaxon mutter something to Rhys.

"Mom," I said, trying to sound upbeat, "I have good news. You're going to live by the beach, just like you always wanted. A little cottage with a garden and ocean views."

For a moment, clarity seemed to return to her eyes. She reached up to stroke my hair, a tender gesture from my childhood.

"You were always such a good girl," she murmured. "So strong. Like him."

"Like who, Mom?"

"Your father," she whispered, and my heart clenched.

"Dad was strong," I agreed, thinking of the kind man who'd raised me until his death when I was twelve.

"No," she shook her head violently. "Not him. Your real father."

The room seemed to still around us.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, my voice barely audible.

My mother's grip suddenly tightened on my wrist, her nails digging into my skin. "I'll protect you from them," she said fiercely. "The blue-eyed demons. I've kept my promise all these years."

"Promise to who, Mom?"

She leaned forward, her eyes burning with a terrifying lucidity. "To the demon that planted you in my womb," she whispered. "He said to keep them away from you."

My blood turned to ice. "What?"

"He came to me in the night," she continued, her voice taking on a dreamy quality. "Beautiful and terrible. He said you were special. That they would hunt you if they knew. That I must hide you from his kind."

I felt Kaelen's hand on my shoulder, steadying me as the room began to spin.

"Clara," he said firmly, "who told you this?"

My mother's eyes locked with his, a moment of perfect clarity amidst the madness. "You know who. You're one of them. His rivals. The ones who would destroy her if they knew what runs in her veins."

"Mom," I choked out, "who is my father?"

But the moment had passed. Her eyes glazed over, and she returned to her painting as if we weren't there, humming tunelessly under her breath.

I stumbled to my feet, my whole world tilting on its axis.

"We need to go," Kaelen said quietly, his arm around my waist supporting me. "Now."

As we turned to leave, my mother called out one last time.

"Hazel?"

I looked back at her. "Yes, Mom?"

"When he comes for you—and he will come—remember that even demons can love." She smiled serenely, adding another stroke of blue to her painting. "And yours loved me, once."