THE BLOODLINE UNSPOKEN

Morning arrived quietly.

Soft light filtered through the curtains in golden bands, bathing the room in warmth. Velma stirred beneath the sheets, stretching slightly before feeling Daniel's arm tighten gently around her waist.

"You're not escaping yet," he murmured, voice still thick with sleep.

She smiled, nestling closer. "Morning."

Daniel kissed her bare shoulder slowly, then again near her neck. "You smell like sleep and roses."

She turned slightly to face him, laughter warm in her chest. "That's a strange compliment."

He shrugged and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. "Strange mornings deserve strange compliments."

They kissed again—longer this time. The kind of kiss that didn't need to lead anywhere urgent, just deep enough to speak, I'm here. His hand moved to the small of her back, pulling her gently closer. Their bodies found a quiet rhythm, familiar and new all at once. They made love slowly, lost in their own world, forgetting—for a little while—the heaviness of dreams, doubts, or strange visitors.

Afterward, Velma lay against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart, letting herself believe it was just another peaceful day.

But peace was fragile in this house.

By the time she came downstairs, Daniel had already gone up to the study. Mrs. Williams informed her that Lucian had arrived again, earlier than expected, and had gone straight upstairs to work with Daniel. Something about needing to finalize documents before the weekend.

Velma thanked her politely and went to sit in the sunlit sitting room, flipping through the pages of an old photo album she found on the shelf. Daniel's younger face smiled out from several black-and-white pictures, standing beside people she didn't recognize—some of them with eyes that reminded her of him, others who looked... off. Blurred, almost distorted.

Her fingers lingered on one page longer than the others.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

Mrs. Williams answered, and voices floated down the corridor—an older man and woman. Moments later, Mrs. Williams appeared in the doorway.

"Ma'am," she said gently, "Daniel's parents are here to see you."

Velma stood quickly, smoothing her dress. "His parents?"

She had spoken to them before—briefly, during the wedding preparations—but hadn't seen them in person since the ceremony. She expected joy, warmth, perhaps a small gift or conversation about honeymoon plans.

But the couple that walked into the room looked different now.

His mother—slim, elegant, with silver streaks woven into her thick hair—held her husband's hand tightly. There was a quiet gravity in their expressions. Daniel's father, tall and broad-shouldered, had the same sharp brow and dark eyes as his son—but now those eyes seemed weighed down with something unsaid.

"Velma," the mother said kindly, stepping forward to kiss her cheek. "It's good to see you again."

"You too," Velma replied, though her voice trembled slightly. "Please, sit."

They settled into the chairs across from her. Silence settled between them for a moment too long before his father finally broke it.

"We came to talk to you. Alone," he said gently. "It's important."

Velma's stomach tensed. "Is Daniel okay?"

They exchanged a glance.

"He's fine," his mother said softly. "But... we think it's time you knew something."

Velma sat up straighter. "Knew what?"

The older woman reached into her purse and pulled out a small silver locket. She turned it over in her palm as if gathering strength. When she looked up again, her eyes were wet.

"When I was a young woman," she began slowly, "I couldn't carry children. We tried everything. Prayed, visited hospitals. Nothing worked."

Velma remained still, listening.

"One night," she continued, "someone told me about a woman. A woman who could… help. She didn't live far. A forest priestess, they said. But I soon learned she was something else."

"What was she?" Velma asked.

His mother inhaled. "A demon."

Velma blinked. She wasn't sure she heard right. "A demon?"

"Yes," the father spoke now. "She called herself Azarath. She offered us a child—but not for free."

Velma's skin prickled.

"What did she want?" she asked.

"She wanted an offering. She said the child born would belong to two worlds. Ours... and something darker."

His mother swallowed. "I was desperate. We agreed. She gave me herbs, strange rites. And weeks later, I conceived Daniel."

Velma's throat tightened. "You're saying Daniel... was born of a demon's magic?"

The mother nodded slowly. "He's not... entirely human. And he doesn't know."

Velma stood abruptly. "You never told him?"

"He had to forget," the father said quickly. "He wasn't meant to carry the burden of what he is. We made sure the memory of his origin was sealed."

Velma was stunned. "He's your son. Doesn't he deserve to know the truth?"

"He does," the mother whispered. "And maybe one day he will. But now that you're part of his life... things may begin to change. Things he's forgotten could return."

"Return how?"

The father looked toward the hallway, then back at her. "Unexplainable things. He may begin to see things others don't. The dreams. The sounds. You might even notice them first."

Velma's eyes widened.

The dream. The sound in the wall.

The red eyes.

All of it—was real?

The mother reached for her hand. "We didn't come to scare you, Velma. We came to prepare you. You deserve to know the truth."

Velma sat slowly, her thoughts spiraling. "He's immortal?"

The father nodded. "His body won't decay. He may bleed, he may feel pain—but he cannot die in the way you or I would. But immortality... it's not a gift. It's a chain."

"And he doesn't remember any of this?" she asked.

"Not yet," his mother whispered. "But the past never stays buried forever."

Just then, footsteps echoed faintly from upstairs.

Lucian.

Daniel.

Their voices low behind the study door.

Velma looked between his parents, her heart racing.

She had promised to trust Daniel.

But how do you trust someone who doesn't know who truly is?. She pondered