Chapter 7: When the Truth Arrived Too Late

Three weeks passed in Elaris.

For the first time in years, my days belonged entirely to me.

Every morning I painted beside the river.

Every afternoon I wandered through the city's galleries.

Every evening I returned to my small room above the bakery with paint-covered hands and a peaceful heart.

The nightmares slowly became less frequent.

I still remembered Alistair.

But I no longer cried every time I thought of him.

Pain, I realized, did not disappear overnight.

It simply became quieter.

Meanwhile, across three kingdoms, Alistair's search continued without rest.

He ignored council meetings.

Ignored diplomatic requests.

Ignored every warning from the vampire elders.

For nearly a month, the Vampire Prince traveled from city to city carrying only one question.

"Have you seen this woman?"

Most people shook their heads.

Others recognized Selena's portrait but couldn't remember where.

Each false lead left him more exhausted.

His once immaculate royal appearance had changed.

Dark circles surrounded his crimson eyes.

His uniform was stained with dust from endless travel.

Even his guards whispered among themselves.

"I've never seen His Highness like this."

"Neither have I."

"It's as though he's forgotten he's a prince."

One afternoon, Alistair reached the city of Elaris.

The moment he entered the bustling streets, something felt strangely familiar.

Artists lined the marketplace.

Fresh paint scented the air.

Music echoed through every corner.

"She would love this city," he murmured.

Then his heart sank.

Maybe she already did.

He questioned gallery owners, merchants, innkeepers, and travelers.

No one admitted recognizing Selena.

Not because they lied.

Because she had introduced herself simply as 'Lena.'

She no longer used the royal surname.

Late that afternoon, Alistair wandered into the city's largest art gallery.

The owner, Eleanor, greeted him politely.

"Welcome, Your Highness."

"We're honored by your visit."

"I'm searching for someone."

He unfolded Selena's portrait.

Eleanor studied it carefully.

For a split second, recognition flashed across her face.

But she quickly hid it.

"I'm sorry," she replied.

"I don't believe I've seen her."

Alistair thanked her and left.

Only after he disappeared did Eleanor quietly lock the gallery door.

She climbed upstairs where several artists, including me, were preparing paintings for the upcoming exhibition.

"Lena," she called gently.

"May I speak with you?"

I looked up from my canvas.

"Of course."

Her expression was unusually serious.

"Your husband came here today."

The paintbrush slipped from my fingers.

"...What?"

"He was carrying your portrait."

"He looked desperate."

Silence filled the room.

I stared blankly at the unfinished sunrise on my canvas.

"Did you tell him?"

"No."

"Because I wasn't certain that's what you wanted."

I released a slow breath.

"Thank you."

"But you should know," Eleanor continued carefully.

"I've met many nobles in my lifetime."

"I've never seen one look the way he did today."

"He looked... broken."

Her words stirred something deep inside me.

For years I would have rushed to comfort him.

Now...

I simply closed my eyes.

"Some wounds are invisible," I whispered.

"That doesn't make them less real."

That evening, after everyone left, I remained alone inside the gallery.

The quiet allowed memories to return.

Alistair laughing as he watched me paint.

Holding my hand beneath the stars.

Reading poetry beside the fireplace.

Were all those moments fake?

No.

That was the hardest part.

I knew they weren't.

He had loved me.

In his own way.

But love without honesty had destroyed us both.

Across town, Alistair sat alone inside a modest inn.

The room was far smaller than the luxurious chambers he was accustomed to.

Yet he barely noticed.

Edwin's words echoed endlessly in his mind.

"She wasn't running away from you.

She was running away from pain."

He finally understood what Selena must have believed.

She thought he had chosen Isabella over her.

Again.

Again and again.

The miscarriage.

The studio key.

The Silvermoon flowers.

Every memory now looked completely different.

"God..."

He covered his face with both hands.

"How could I have been so blind?"

The following morning, Alistair prepared to leave Elaris.

Every lead had gone cold.

As he mounted his horse outside the inn, a little boy ran toward him carrying a folded piece of paper.

"Mister!"

"A lady told me to give you this if I saw the man from the portrait."

Alistair's heart pounded.

"Where is she?"

"She already left."

"She said you'd ask that."

With trembling fingers, Alistair unfolded the note.

There was no signature.

Only a single sentence written in handwriting he would recognize anywhere.

"Please stop looking for me. Let the woman you loved finally become free."

The words struck harder than any weapon.

"The woman you loved..."

She still believed it had never been her.

His hands trembled violently.

For the first time in centuries, tears filled the Vampire Prince's eyes.

"No..." he whispered.

"You've misunderstood everything."

But the wind carried his voice away.

Somewhere beyond the city, I stood on a quiet hillside watching the sunrise.

I had watched Alistair leave from a distance.

Close enough to see him.

Far enough that he would never notice me.

It hurt more than I expected.

Yet I didn't move.

Because if I stepped toward him...

I knew my heart might betray me once again.

Instead, I turned away.

The path ahead was uncertain.

But for the first time...

It was mine to choose.