Ancestral Lineage - Chapter 261

Chapter 261: Where Love is More Than Just A Feeling

Somewhere within the floating archives of the Skyspire Citadel…

The air smelled faintly of ancient paper, glowing ink, and ozone. Tomes drifted through the air on glowing sigils, floating between towering crystalline shelves. A large, circular window looked out into a violet sky where stars moved like living creatures.

Jerry stood in the center of it all, one hand resting on the hilt of the curved sword at his hip, the other buried deep in his jacket pocket. He looked… awkward. Fidgety. Out of place in a realm of such quiet reverence.

Kira sat atop one of the levitating tomes, legs swinging gently as she read a scroll with glowing blue script. Her silver hair was tied up in a high ponytail, her eyes narrowed with focused curiosity. She looked calm… until she noticed him still standing stiffly.

“You can sit, you know,” she said without looking up. “The floor’s not going to bite you.”

Jerry cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, it’s not the floor I’m worried about.”

Kira arched a brow and looked at him properly. “What, are you still scared of me?”

“I’m not scared,” he said quickly, then paused. “Okay, maybe a little. You did throw me through a portal the first time we met.”

“You deserved that,” she said, smirking. “You tried to steal my chronoglass and flirt at the same time. Bold and stupid.”

Jerry laughed. “Bold and stupid is kind of my whole thing.”

She rolled her eyes but her smirk didn’t fade. “So… why are you here?”

He shrugged. “Wanted to see you. Talk. Not about war stuff or magic beasts or what Luciel used to keep in his vault. Just…” He looked at her, genuinely. “You.”

Kira blinked, surprised. Her scroll dimmed in her hands. “That’s new.”

“Figured I’d try something different for once. Risky. Heart-thumpy. You know… human.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re not just trying to sweet-talk me into giving you classified archives again, are you?”

“I swear on my hair gel—this is real.”

Kira slid off the tome and landed gracefully in front of him. She looked up at him for a beat, then poked his chest. “You’re not smooth.”

“Never claimed to be.”

“But… that’s kind of refreshing.”

They stood there, the warmth between them building like sunlight through stained glass. No dramatic confessions. No overwhelming pull. Just the start of something that felt… possible.

“Wanna help me rearrange starlore records?” she asked, tilting her head. “They’re completely out of order and I need someone tall to reach the top shelves.”

Jerry gave a mock bow. “At your service, Lady Librarian.”

“Don’t push it.”

As they walked off toward the spiraling staircase of light, Jerry looked sideways and whispered, “But for real though, you do kinda like me.”

Kira rolled her eyes again. “Get climbing before I throw a book at your head.”

….

Athelia stood alone in a grand, moonlit chamber carved from shimmering obsidian and silver-veined marble. Though beautiful, the room felt distant—like a dream suspended between realities.

She took a slow breath, the air unusually light. Around her, the walls rippled faintly like water, and faint echoes of voices whispered in languages older than memory.

This wasn’t the same place Clara and Harley had awakened in. No silken sheets or soft sighs. No heat. No Ethan.

Just silence. And starlight.

She looked down at her hands. They glowed faintly with the same blue aura Ethan had placed on her forehead before vanishing. The moment she tried to trace the magic with her mind, her third eye pulsed—and suddenly, reality bent.

A soft gasp escaped her lips as visions bloomed around her like petals in the dark.

Fragments of Ethan—older, younger, laughing, weeping.

Her own past—loneliness in the Grove of Mirrors. Her first dream of Ethan. The ache of unspoken love.

And something more… something ancient. Something within her.

The blue glow deepened into a rich violet hue as a new form of power whispered through her bones. Not Ethan’s… not borrowed… but hers.

She dropped to her knees, overwhelmed. It wasn’t pain—it was knowing. A thousand versions of herself in an instant. The child. The maiden. The priestess. The warrior. The Spirit Beast Angitia and the Blue Spirit, Tia, the Faceless One.

The echo of something divine… awakening.

A soft voice echoed from nowhere and everywhere:

“You are more than what he gave you. You are what you’ve always been, Athelia.”

She clenched her fists, heart pounding. “Then show me.”

The room responded.

A portal bloomed open before her—shimmering, wide, and pulsing with quiet power. Through it, she saw a different version of herself—dressed in silks of midnight, crowned in light, standing beside Ethan as his equal.

Her breath caught.

This was a possible future. Not guaranteed. Not handed to her.

A choice.

She stood, taller now, her third eye shining like a star between her brows.

“I’ll find my place beside him,” she whispered. “Not behind him.”

She stepped through the portal.

…

Meanwhile…

In a different quadrant of the pocket dimension, where the sky was painted in layers of peach and violet, Ethan stood by a tranquil spring nestled among crystalline trees. The wind was soft here, carrying the scent of moonflowers and jasmine.

Elaine and Christel stood before him—two forces of nature in their own right.

Elaine, with her long green hair cascading like a river, wore a soft and fatigued expression but her aura was coiled like a dragon waiting to strike. Christel, in contrast, was a wild flame. Her green eyes gleamed with equal parts desire and challenge, her red curls flowing freely like her emotions.

“You’ve been avoiding us,” Elaine said, her voice calm, but Ethan could feel the gentle steel beneath.

“I’ve been… prioritizing,” Ethan responded with a sigh. “There’s too much to catch up on.”

Christel narrowed her eyes. “And what about us? Do we fall under ‘too much’ as well?”

“No,” Ethan said as he walked up to them, placing a hand on each of their cheeks. “You fall under everything.”

Elaine’s gaze softened. She always saw through him—beyond the Emperor, beyond the raw power—to the man who had fought wars alone and woke up in a world that had moved without him.

“You look tired,” she murmured.

“I am. But not too tired for you two,” he replied, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Christel smirked. “Careful with that tone, Ethan. You’ll make me think you missed me.”

“I did,” he said simply, turning to her. “You’ve always been the fire I didn’t know I needed.”

She flushed, caught off guard. “Damn you, Smith.”

“We are from the same family. It’s in the blood.”

Elaine took his hand and pulled him toward the spring. “Come. Sit. No expectations. Just us.”

As they settled beside the water, the tension bled away. Ethan leaned back against the warm stone, and both women flanked him—Elaine resting her head on his shoulder, Christel with her arm loosely hooked around his.

No words were needed for a while. Just warmth. Just presence.

“You’ve changed,” Elaine finally said.

“I had to. But… I’m still me,” Ethan replied.

Christel traced a finger along his arm. “Then show us that version of you. The one who came back for us.”

He looked at them—two women who had waited through storms and silence—and smiled.

“I intend to. Every day, from now on.”

The sun above the spring shifted hues, bathing them in a golden warmth as time slowed around them—just enough for moments like these to last a little longer.

Elaine’s fingers traced soft, idle circles along Ethan’s chest, her head still resting against him. “Do you remember,” she began softly, “the first time you touched my soul?”

Ethan smiled faintly. “In the Smith stronghold. I was taking up the throne, and you just… appeared.”

“You were losing,” Christel added with a wicked grin.

“I was distracted,” Ethan corrected with a chuckle.

Elaine lifted her head slightly to look at Christel. “He didn’t even flinch when I was accused of being a curse. Just turned to me like he’d known me forever.”

Christel’s expression softened. “That’s because you had. We all had. There’s a string that pulled us to you—some soul-deep tether that never snapped, no matter how long you were gone.”

Ethan let out a breath, both grateful and pained. “I didn’t mean to leave you all to face the world without me.”

Elaine shook her head. “Don’t. We weren’t waiting helplessly. We were surviving—for you, for each other. And for the children you never got to meet.”

Ethan swallowed hard, his hands clenching softly into the fabric of her dress. “I will. I want to.”

“You’re here now,” Christel whispered, moving closer until her forehead touched his. “We didn’t come through hell just to fall apart now.”

The three of them stayed like that—silent, warm, close.

Ethan opened his eyes to look at them both. “You know… if I had a heart left to give, it would’ve been split a thousand ways to make room for you two. But somehow, each of you already carved a place in it.”

Elaine smiled, her eyes glimmering. “You never had to give it. We already had it.”

Christel gave a soft, breathy laugh. “He’s getting better with words. Who taught you that, huh?”

“You did,” Ethan replied, pulling them both in, arms around their waists. “In your own ways, both of you.”

Elaine gently cupped his cheek, kissing the corner of his mouth. It was chaste but lingering, filled with the memory of longing and the joy of reunion.

Christel followed suit, her kiss brief but electric, like a promise of more to come.

“You’ll always be ours,” Elaine said softly.

“And you’ll never be alone again,” Christel added.

Together, they leaned into each other, letting the peace of that moment wrap around them like a protective cloak—one they’d fought, waited, and bled for.