Everest POV
He sat there, not knowing how long he had been in that same position—alone, unmoving—his tears falling silently as his forehead rested against the golden edge of the coffin.
The silence was broken.
His attention snapped toward a noise from outside the room. His eyes narrowed, a deep frown forming on his face. He rose to his feet with a sharp inhale, instinct taking over. His hand reached behind him, gripping the hilt of his sword. In one swift motion, he drew the blade and held it in front of him, the steel catching the low light.
Something wasn't right.
He could feel it—his horse was restless under the three where he has left him.
Something or someone was out there.
Everest moved quietly toward the door and slipped outside, careful not to make a sound. Coming back here had been dangerous enough. Lord Lorcand or one of his men could still be lurking.
Step by cautious step, he made his way across the broken stone and scattered debris, sword held upright, ready to strike. His chest rose and fell with tense breaths. Every muscle was tight, alert.
Then he saw the figure.
A man stood a few paces ahead, wrapped in a long brown coat that concealed most of his face beneath a wide hood. Everest kept his footsteps silent, approaching from behind.
The stranger wore heavy black boots and dark pants. His frame was strong—broad-shouldered and steady.
Just as Everest moved closer, the man heard him. He spun around quickly, drawing a sword from his belt and leveling it toward Everest.
"Who are you?" Everest demanded, his voice low and sharp.
The stranger didn't flinch. He stepped forward slightly, sword still raised.
"I don't want any trouble," the man said calmly.
"Then why are you here?" Everest growled. "What do you want?"
"I came looking for answers."
Everest's sword remained firm in his grip—but then he paused. The light shifted across the stranger's face, and for a brief moment, Everest caught a glimpse beneath the hood.
The man's eyes—green, intense, familiar.
No. It couldn't be. He felt how all his blood drained from his body as she stood there. His futures it looked familiar and like he have seen him before somewhere.
Everest's sword lowered slightly. His voice dropped, full of disbelief.
"You're… You're Willow's father."
Lord Lorcand's voice echoed in his mind like a cursed memory: "King Dorian escaped. He didn't die in the fire."
It all made sense now.
The man eased his own sword down, sensing Everest no longer intended to fight. His brow furrowed as he studied the younger man.
"How do you know Willow?" he asked.
Everest slowly sheathed his sword, his body suddenly heavy with the weight of everything.
He spotted a flat rock nearby and sat down, his legs weak beneath him. The truth was settling like dust in his lungs.
The man stepped forward, finally pulling down his hood.
"tell me how do you know my daughter Willow " Demand the man as he hold the sward up again toward him.
When Everest saw his full face, he knew without question—it was him. The same hazel-green eyes. The same soft brown hair. Even the shape of his lips—Willow had inherited it all.
Everest swallowed hard, his voice strained.
"Because…" he said, breath catching in his throat, "I'm going to marry your daughter. Today."
The man froze. His lips parted slightly in shock. He instantly lower his sward as he took a step back and slide his sward back in his holder.
He had thought they were all dead. Burned in the fire. Lost to the past. He could tell it was complete shocked to the man and he would not blame him.
"Willow…" he said softly, in awe. "She's alive?"
Everest gave a solemn nod, his eyes shining with emotion.
"She's alive. As much her mother's too" he looked back toward the ruined castle—"this was their home. The Ogres along with Lord Lorcand wicked men ruined it "
The man in front of him turned pale, his sunken skin seeming to vanish all at once. His eyes widened, shimmering with tears.
"Where is my daughter now?" he asked quietly.
Everest took a deep breath before answering. "Willow and her mother, along with a few of the Vila fairies, are at the Elven Castle."
The man sat down beside him on a nearby rock, silence falling over them. Everest could tell the man had a lot to process—after all, everyone had believed he was dead.
He stared out at the ruins before them—the castle that had once stood proud was now nothing more than ashes.
"You are Tyron's son," the man said at last.
Everest nodded slowly, turning his gaze back to the man. "I am."
"You look like your mother," Dorian said softly. "You have her beauty… along with your father's strength and bravery. A true king."
Everest exhaled, running a hand through his hair. A moment passed before he remembered—he still had a wedding to attend.
He stood up from the rock, glancing at Dorian. But before he left, there was something he had to ask.
"There's one thing I need to know," Everest began. "I know you and your wife Evelyn kept it a secret."
Dorian's green-hazel eyes darkened as he looked up at him.
"I found Willow's coffin," Everest said carefully.
At those words, Dorian went still, like a ghost had been conjured from the past.
"You found it?" he said in shock. "How did you even know about that?"
Everest shifted on his feet, taking a deep breath. "The man you once went to for help… he showed me a vision of what happened. That Willow died at birth—and that you and your wife begged Lord Lorcand to bring her back."
Nausea twisted in Everest's stomach as he said the words. He turned away, walking in a circle to steady himself.
Dorian rose from the rock, and when he spoke, Everest could hear the pain in every word.
"Willow was our only daughter. She suffered heart failure at birth… she only lived for a few minutes before her heart stopped."
Everest halted, looking at the man, feeling the weight of his grief.
"We knew Vila fairies are only allowed one child. If we tried for another, it would be rare… or dangerous. That's why we did everything in our power to bring her back," Dorian said, his voice breaking as tears fell down his cheeks. "We sought help from every witch we could find. But they all said the same—it was dangerous to raise the dead. That our daughter would come back… different. No one would take the risk."
Everest's heart ached. Seeing Dorian so broken over his past made the pain feel almost personal.
But he had to ask. "Why… why did you go to him? Of all people, why trust Lord Lorcand with your daughter's life?"
Lorcand—the heartless man who had destroyed so many lives, the one known for his cruelty and bloodshed.
"We weren't proud," Dorian whispered, meeting Everest's gaze. "But if we hadn't done something… our daughter would still be buried. Along with her, the last of the Vila heritage would have died, too."
Everest let out a heavy breath, resting a hand on his waist. He had no more arguments. The truth was, if Dorian and Evelyn hadn't done what they did, he would never have met Willow. There would be no wedding today.
"I'm not saying what you and your wife did was right," Everest said gently. "But if you hadn't done it… we wouldn't be having this conversation, and I wouldn't be marrying Willow today."
Dorian looked at him, his eyes weighed down with the burden of the past.
The sun was beginning to set. It was time to return—if Everest delayed any longer, he'd miss his own wedding.
He glanced toward his horse resting beneath the tree. With a soft whistle, the animal rose and walked toward him.
"Why don't you come with me?" Everest offered, looking back at Dorian.
The man smiled faintly but shook his head. "I would love to… but to appear now would be too overwhelming for my daughter. For everyone."
Everest frowned. "She would be happy to know you're alive."
"She would," Dorian agreed. "But I think the best time… is in three days. Meet me here again, and bring Evelyn. Then, we can all meet—together."
It was a fair request. Everest knew if he were in Dorian's place, he'd want to see his wife and child again, too—but not without preparing them first.
"Alright," Everest agreed. "Three days from now, in the morning. I'll bring Willow and her mother here."
Dorian nodded, emotion in his voice. "Thank you, Everest. My daughter is blessed to be marrying a man like you."
Everest gave him a small, grateful smile, then took the reins in hand. With a clicking sound from his mouth, his horse responded, and they took off across the land—toward the life, and the love, waiting for him.
Mathew POV
He wasn't that great with children. When the baby started to cry, he handed it over to the mother or the nurse without hesitation. Thankfully, his mother had come with him to the hospital that day. She read a storybook to the children, and afterward, they handed out toys and treats.
As the afternoon approached and it was time to eat, Mathew asked his mother if he could leave.
"I still have a lot of paperwork to deal with," he explained, "and the new guard trainees begin today for the kingdom."
"Alright then, I'll see you later at supper," his mother said warmly.
Mathew said goodbye to her, then to the staff and patients at the hospital, before leaving. He asked one of the guards to drive him home.
As he climbed into the back of the black Mercedes-Benz, he sank into the seat, exhaling as the door closed behind him. The car soon pulled away.
He was already tired after just a morning with the children, and his day was far from over. As the car turned onto a new road, Mathew stared out the window at the passing houses. Being a king, he thought, came with a tremendous weight of responsibility—and he could already feel the toll it was taking.
Outside the tinted windows, the world bustled with life. People walked by, each lost in their own thoughts. Mathew was grateful for the privacy the tinted glass offered; no one could see it was him. Still, he couldn't help wondering what his life might have been like if he hadn't been born into royalty.
Then, as they turned onto another street, something caught his eye—something that made him sit up straight.
"Stop the car!" he ordered.
The driver immediately hit the brakes.
"Turn around and drive back to that yellow house on the corner," Mathew instructed.
"As you wish, Your Highness," the driver replied with a respectful nod.
Mathew sat upright, hands starting to sweat. The house—with its beautiful garden—was just as Gabrielle had described. His pulse quickened as the car slowed to a halt by the side of the road.
He stared at the house, noting the front door slightly ajar. Something told him she was there.
"Wait here for me," he told the driver before stepping out.
He took a deep breath as he shut the car door behind him. The house was exactly as he imagined—a charming yellow wooden home with a light blue tiled roof and a wooden porch. The garden in front was breathtaking, just like Gabrielle had said.
The white wooden fence around the property had its gate hanging open. So was the front door.
Someone was definitely here.
He walked toward the house, nerves tightening in his chest. As he stepped onto the porch and pushed the front door open, the scent of old wood and dust hit him. The house felt still, like time had paused inside.
His eyes scanned the room. Family photographs hung on the wall covered with floral pink-and-white wallpaper. He recognized Gabrielle immediately in the pictures—long, wavy hair, eyes like her father, beauty like her mother. Each photo showed a version of her life he hadn't known. Happy. Free.
Then, a sound—creaking floorboards.
He moved toward it quickly, heart pounding.
In the next room, he spotted her. Gabrielle had her back to him, taking off gardening gloves and setting them on the counter. She was wearing ordinary clothes—not the elegant black gown from the night before.
"Why did you leave this morning?" he asked, his voice quiet and trembling with emotion.
She froze.
Slowly, she turned to face him. Her cheeks paled, and her warm brown eyes turned cold.
"Mathew…" she whispered. "How did you find me?"
He took a step forward. His legs felt heavy.
"You told me about this house," he said. "I took a chance... and I found you."
They stood in silence. His body trembled with nerves. Gabrielle stirred something in him he had never felt before.
"You shouldn't have come," she said softly, just like the night before when she tried to leave.
"I'm not leaving," he said firmly. "I've spent all morning wondering why you disappeared after the night we shared. I woke up alone."
He reached for her hand and was relieved when she didn't pull away. She was shaking too.
"Mathew… we can't be seen together," she said, voice low. "If the family I'm with finds out about you, I'll be in serious danger."
His gaze met hers, and what he saw made his heart clench—fear, hesitation, uncertainty.
"I can't let you go," he said as he gently brushed his fingertips along her cheek. Her lips parted with a soft gasp. "Gabrielle… whatever this family is, you can leave them. You can be who you were meant to be."
He didn't know her full story, or who she truly was, but he knew what he felt. And when he touched her, his breath caught in his throat. He traced her lips, her chin, down to her collarbone, feeling every nerve in his body awaken.
"You shouldn't have come," she breathed again, opening her eyes to meet his. "I'm not the woman you think I am. If you knew the truth... you'd see me differently."
He stopped his hand on her shoulder, frowning. She kept saying that—but he couldn't stay away. His heart wouldn't let him.
Without waiting, he leaned in and kissed her—fiercely, passionately.
He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. She stiffened for a moment, then melted into the kiss, letting their tongues meet, the heat between them rising like a firestorm.
But then—something changed.
A sudden, invisible force hurled him backward.
He slammed into the wall and collapsed to the floor.
His vision blurred. Dazed, he looked up to see Gabrielle rushing to him, her face full of concern.
"Mathew, are you okay?" she asked, kneeling beside him.
He touched his forehead, confused. "What… what was that?" he muttered, trying to remember what had just happened.
Gabrielle's eyes filled with tears. Her voice cracked as she said, "That's what I've been trying to tell you."
He looked at her, stunned, heart pounding—not from love now, but from the revelation that something far beyond his understanding had just occurred.