On the other side of the world, far from her base of operations that is New York, Charlotte cuts through the skies above Europe.
Wind gathered beneath her feet, steady and controlled, carrying her forward with practiced ease. The spell, Flight, a spell from the school of Wind Magic, bent the currents to her will, pushing her across borders and seas without pause. Below her, cities blurred into patches of light and shadow, civilization shrinking into something distant and insignificant. Her destination lay ahead.
Romania.
She descended just outside a quiet town, landing lightly within a cluster of bushes at the edge of a narrow road. The wind dispersed at once, leaving behind only the stillness of the afternoon. Adjusting her hoodie, she stepped out and began walking.
To any ordinary passerby, the town was unremarkable. People moved about their day—shopkeepers tending to their stores, children laughing in the streets, and elders chatting by open windows—a peaceful place, untouched by the strange.
But Charlotte knew better.
Beneath that calm surface, unseen threads of the supernatural wove through every corner of the town.
This was a nest.
The domain of House D'Arcel.
For centuries, the D'Arcels had made this place their home, blending seamlessly with the lives of ordinary people—Barebloods, as the Witching Hour called them. They held positions of influence, acted as benefactors, funded infrastructure, and maintained a spotless reputation.
To the townspeople, they were nothing more than a family known for their generosity.
To those who knew the truth, however.
They were vampires.
Charlotte walked through the streets at an unhurried pace, taking in the changes that had occurred. It had been years since she last visited, and the town had grown. New buildings stood where empty lots once were. Roads were wider. Shops more numerous. It was developing fast.
She smiled faintly.
Lucien's doing.
She stopped a passerby and casually asked for directions. The moment she mentioned the name D'Arcel, the response came with a warmth that couldn't be faked. Smiles, admiration, even a hint of pride.
No charm. No compulsion.
Just genuine respect.
Charlotte liked that.
Before long, she stood before a large estate at the edge of town. It was modern in structure but carried an old-world elegance. Stone walls, iron gates, and a quiet presence that felt heavier than it appeared.
She stepped closer.
"Halt."
A guard moved into position, posture stiff, eyes sharp. Even beneath the midday sun, he stood comfortably, shaded by a dark cap enchanted to resist the light.
"Do you have an appointment, miss?" he asked.
Charlotte studied him for a brief moment.
Vampire. Not of the main line, but still trained. There was discipline in his stance, and a faint pulse of mana beneath his skin.
She smiled.
"Nope."
The guard's grip tightened slightly.
Then—
"Well… if it isn't the Heretical Witch."
The voice came from beyond the gates.
The doors of the estate opened, and a tall figure stepped into view, holding a black umbrella above his head. His hair was long, white, and immaculate, framing a face that seemed untouched by time.
Lucien D'Arcel.
His gaze shifted briefly to the guard.
"Stand down," he said calmly. "And ensure this visit remains… unspoken."
"Yes, sire."
The gate opened.
Charlotte didn't hesitate. She stepped forward with a grin, closing the distance between them in a few quick strides.
"Still alive, huh?" she said, laughter already in her voice. "You son of a b-"
Lucien's lips curved into a faint smile.
"Language."
Their hands met in a firm, familiar clasp before pulling each other into a brief, almost casual embrace.
The guard stared.
The tension from moments ago dissolved as if it had never existed.
"Come," Lucien said, turning toward the estate. "We have much to discuss."
———
Inside, the atmosphere shifted.
The study was warm, lit by a low fire that crackled softly within a stone fireplace. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books both ancient and modern. A quiet blend of tradition and adaptation.
Lucien moved with practiced ease, retrieving a bottle of wine and pouring himself a glass.
"Wine?" he offered.
Charlotte dropped onto the sofa opposite him, stretching slightly as she settled in.
"I'll pass."
Lucien took a sip before studying her.
"So it's true, then," he said. "You return after four years… and bring with you a Calamity."
Charlotte groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "Yeah. That part."
"You made her your student?" he continued, tone measured.
"I made a coven. She was proclaiming herself as my student. Might as well teach her before she self-destructs."
Lucien paused.
Not visibly—but the shift was there. A slight stillness. A recalculation.
"That," he said slowly, "is far more concerning."
Charlotte leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.
"I know what it sounds like."
"You would be cultivating disasters," Lucien replied. "One was enough. Now you intend to raise more?"
His words weren't accusatory.
They were factual.
Lucien set his glass down, fingers tapping lightly against the rim.
"You remember the Crystal Witch," he added.
Charlotte exhaled sharply. "Of course I know. I know the history of the calamities. Raven prodigy who turned herself into a walking statue."
"She sought limitless mana," Lucien continued. "And in doing so, lost her mind entirely."
Charlotte clicked her tongue. "She didn't understand the balance in stuff."
"And the Scarlet Floret?" Lucien asked.
This time, Charlotte didn't respond immediately.
A faint tension crept into the room.
"He nearly exposed everything," Lucien said quietly. "Turned entire populations into mindless vampire spawn. Forced both worlds to the brink. The world wasn't ready for it."
"Yeah," Charlotte muttered. "That one was just insane."
Silence lingered for a moment.
Then Charlotte leaned back, stretching her arms across the sofa.
"I'm not them."
Lucien watched her.
"I know. Just… make sure they don't cause trouble," he said.
A beat passed.
"So," he continued, "why are you here?"
Charlotte's expression shifted. The laziness faded, replaced by something sharper.
"I want your support."
Lucien raised an eyebrow. "In what capacity?"
"Everything," she said. "Finances. Influence. Backing during meetings. Whatever I need."
Lucien let out a soft breath, almost amused.
"You ask boldly."
"I always do."
A pause.
Then Charlotte added quickly, "And no. I'm not giving you an heir. Don't even think about it."
Lucien scoffed lightly, shaking his head.
"Surely you jest."
He leaned back, folding one leg over the other.
"But very well," he said after a moment. "I accept."
Charlotte blinked.
"…That was fast."
Lucien's smile returned, faint but knowing.
"You are not the only one who sees value in change," he said. "I have lived long enough to watch this world evolve. The others cling to tradition as if it will save them."
He picked up his glass again.
"It will not."
Charlotte grinned.
"That's why I like you."
Lucien tilted his head slightly.
"However," he continued, "I do have one condition."
"Figures."
"My son," Lucien said. "You will teach him."
Charlotte blinked again.
"That's it?"
"He lacks… direction," Lucien explained. "His ability is inherited, but his application is lacking. I want him to learn with your guidance."
Charlotte smirked.
"My Heretic way of thinking?"
"If you wish to call it that."
She leaned back, stretching her arms behind her head.
"Fine. But if he gets too strong, that's on you."
"I would expect nothing less."
———
Moments later, the door opened.
A boy stepped inside.
Pale. Thin. Almost fragile in appearance.
But his eyes—
Sharp.
"Father," he said softly before turning to Charlotte. "My name is Theodore D'Arcel. It's a pleasure to meet you."
Charlotte studied him.
Interesting.
Lucien placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"He will be leaving with you."
Theodore nodded without hesitation.
Charlotte raised an eyebrow. "No complaints?"
"None," he said.
Lucien continued, his tone quieter now.
"His mother was a Bareblood."
Charlotte's gaze sharpened slightly.
"Oh?"
"His body struggles with the inheritance of my blood. His Bareblood ancestry weakens him."
Theodore said nothing.
Charlotte smiled faintly.
"Good. I hate boring students. It'll be fun to surprise you."
Lucien smirks.
———
In the courtyard, Lucien brings them to an open space as Charlotte requested.
Arrangements were made quickly.
Suitcases filled with cash were brought in—funding for Charlotte's plans. With a flick of her fingers, space bent and folded, swallowing the luggage into a portal that snapped shut just as quickly.
Lucien watched carefully.
Another innovation.
Another disruption.
"Ten months," he said. "After that, he returns for succession."
Charlotte nodded. "He'll be ready."
A portal formed in the courtyard soon after, its edges shimmering faintly as it connected to her Dimension Bubble.
The Lunarium.
Theodore glanced back once.
Lucien stood tall, composed, offering nothing but a small nod.
The boy returned it.
Then stepped forward.
Charlotte followed.
The portal closed.
Silence returned.
Lucien stood there for a long moment before turning away.
From above—
A faint click echoed.
Not magic.
A camera.
A woman lowered her phone from the balcony, a slow, knowing smile forming on her lips.
"So," she murmured softly,
"The Heretical Witch. To think she'd be here. They'll like this news.."