Chapter 265: Chapter 265

Dante sat in his study, a low golden light flickering across the obsidian walls. The room was quiet. He tried to focus on the parchment before him, the endless reports and petitions from the Nightshade Court, but his mind kept slipping elsewhere. It was an unfamiliar feeling in his chest, something missing, something he couldn’t name.

He frowned, shaking his head slightly. Absence? The thought annoyed him. He never allowed such emotions to take root. Feelings, to him, were distractions, dangerous and unpredictable. Yet lately, every time his mind quieted, it wandered toward the warmth of a smile, the sound of soft laughter that echoed in his memory like light filtering through shadow.

Before he could think further, a small voice broke the silence.

He looked up immediately. Sable came running in, holding a book nearly bigger than himself, his little horns gleaming faintly in the light. The sound of that word, Dad, softened something deep inside him.

A faint smile tugged at his lips. It wasn’t something he showed often, but Sable brought it out effortlessly. He had told the boy to call him "Dad" just a few days ago, and hearing it now filled the empty corners of his heart with quiet warmth.

Lucien followed behind, calm as always, though his eyes were brighter than usual. Ever since Sable came to live with them, the boy who once preferred silence and solitude had begun to open up, to smile, even laugh. Dante noticed. And though he rarely said it aloud, it eased him more than he liked to admit.

Sable climbed up onto the chair beside him, his excitement bubbling over. "Look, Dad!" he said proudly, flipping open his book. On the page was a small, clumsy drawing of a plant beneath the sun, lines crooked, colors uneven, but full of heart.

Dante leaned closer, studying it with exaggerated seriousness, and then nodded. "It’s good," he said quietly. "You remembered what Alina taught you."

Sable’s face lit up, his small fangs showing as he smiled. "I tried very hard! See, that’s the sun, and that’s the plant! They’re friends!"

Dante chuckled softly under his breath. "Friends, hm? That’s a good way to think of it."

Lucien, not wanting to be left out, came closer and held out his notebook too. "Look, Father. I practiced my handwriting."

Dante took the notebook and flipped through it slowly, his crimson eyes softening. The letters were steady and elegant, Lucien’s focus and discipline showed in every line. "Perfect as always," he said, his tone full of quiet pride.

Lucien smiled faintly, looking satisfied, and Sable whispered beside him, "My sun and plant are perfect too!"

"They are," Dante reassured, resting his large hand gently on Sable’s head and ruffling his soft hair.

Sable giggled, leaning into the touch. "Dad, are you happy I live here now?" he asked in a shy voice, glancing up at him.

Dante paused, caught off guard by the question. For a moment, words didn’t come. Then, very softly, he said, "Yes, Sable. I’m very happy."

The boy’s eyes sparkled with joy. He reached up and touched one of Dante’s horns with his tiny hand, a gesture of affection among their kind, and Dante didn’t stop him.

Lucien watched quietly, a rare smile curving on his lips. For the first time in a long while, their home didn’t feel vast and empty. It felt alive.

And as Dante looked at the two boys beside him, one born of his blood, the other born of his choice, he realized that whatever strange emptiness he had felt earlier had quietly vanished.

That night, Dante sat on the edge of his bed, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of the lamps. Shadows moved across the dark walls, long and quiet, like silent thoughts following him. He had removed his cloak and leaned back against the tall headboard, one arm resting across his knee as he stared into nothingness.

The vast chamber felt strangely hollow tonight. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of cedar from the burning incense, the kind meant to calm one’s mind. But it wasn’t working. His thoughts refused to still.

What is happening to me?

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, exhaling deeply. Every time he closed his eyes, her face appeared. Alina’s soft smile, her gentle eyes, the way she brushed her hair behind her ear when nervous. He remembered the way she laughed.

"She’s pretty," he muttered under his breath, almost in disbelief at himself. The words slipped out before he could stop them, echoing faintly in the empty room.

He stared up at the ceiling above, as though scolding his own heart. "Pretty?" he repeated with a quiet scoff, as if saying it aloud might break the thought. But it didn’t. Instead, the memory deepened, her voice, her warmth, her kindness toward the children.

He turned his head toward the window. The moon hung high over the Nightshade estate, silver light spilling across the floor. For many years, he had ruled this world without distraction. He had learned to master fear, anger, even grief, but not this. Not the strange lightness that climbed up into his chest whenever he thought of her.

"She’s human," he whispered, almost as though to remind himself. "Mortal." Yet the word didn’t carry the distance it should have. Newest update provıded by 𝗇𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗅•𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾•𝗇𝖾𝗍

He leaned back, his crimson eyes half-lidded, their glow dimming with exhaustion. He told himself he would stop thinking about her, that it was nothing but temporary curiosity. Yet when he closed his eyes, the last image that flickered in his mind wasn’t the dark court, nor the shadows that obeyed his command. It was Alina’s smile beneath the classroom sunlight, soft and alive, pulling warmth into even his coldest corners.

Dante turned on his bed again, restless, the silk sheets rustling quietly beneath him. He exhaled and reached up, his fingers brushing against the curve of his right horn, a habit he had when trying to ground himself. It was cool to the touch, smooth like obsidian, but it did little to still his thoughts.

"Well," he muttered to himself, voice low and amused, "I suppose I can admit it now." He leaned back on his elbows, a small smile tugging at his lips as the moonlight traced the sharp angles of his face.

"I can’t wait to meet her again.."