Ancestral Lineage - Chapter 262

Chapter 262: Even Ice Is Warm

Pisces stood alone at the edge of the floating terrace, where the still waters of the Sky Mirror Pond reflected the surreal beauty of the realm Ethan had conjured. It was quiet here—eerily quiet, save for the hum of ancient magicks and the faint echo of laughter in the distance.

She could feel it—him. His aura pulsed through this world like a heartbeat. And with every thrum of that energy, her soul stirred.

The others were already with him. Harley. Clara. Christel. Elaine. She could feel them too, woven into his essence like constellations surrounding a sun.

She didn’t feel jealous. No… Pisces had learned long ago that love wasn’t something she needed to clutch tightly, to cage and control. It was like water—flowing, adaptive, patient. And hers had always run deeper than words could reach.

Still, being apart from him for so long had carved hollows in her heart. Watching, waiting, wondering if he would remember what they were to each other.

What she was to him.

A soft ripple on the pond’s surface mirrored the tremble in her fingers. She touched the water’s skin and it responded, illuminating an image. Ethan—smiling gently as he held Elaine and Christel. Laughing for the first time in what felt like centuries.

Pisces exhaled through her nose, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m glad you’re smiling again… even if it’s not because of me.”

But the water shifted. The image dissolved—and in its place appeared Ethan, alone now, his gaze distant… troubled. Searching.

She felt her breath hitch. That expression… she knew it.

He was thinking of her.

Behind her, footsteps echoed on the crystal steps—soft and hesitant. It was Seraphis.

“Why don’t you go to him?” she asked gently, her blue eyes knowing.

Pisces kept her back to her. “I don’t know if I should.”

“You love him.”

“I know that,” Pisces replied, voice tight. “But I’ve always been the one who watched from the edges. The quiet one. The calm one. Everyone else rushed to him the moment the gates opened, and I— I just froze. I wanted him to come to me. I wanted to know if I mattered enough for that.”

Silence.

Then Seraphis walked forward and stood beside her, looking out across the pond.

“You think he doesn’t carry you in his heart? He built this world. Every tree, every star, every breeze… reflects a piece of the people he loves. Can’t you feel it?” Seraphis smiled softly. “The water never stopped singing your name, Pisces. Go. He doesn’t need to come find you. He’s already waiting.”

Pisces stared at her reflection in the pond. Then slowly, she nodded.

She turned, lifting her skirt gently as she walked—toward the center of the realm where the light glowed brightest. Toward the place her heart had never truly left.

…

Ethan sat alone beneath the Heartbloom Tree—the only tree in this world that shimmered with bioluminescent petals and radiated warmth that wasn’t just physical but spiritual. His shirt was unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled back, and he looked… tired. Not physically, but emotionally. As if holding everything together for so long had worn the corners of his soul.

He leaned back, eyes tracing the canopy above him. Despite the love and affection from the women he cherished, there were still pieces of his heart that remained distant—missing. Until he felt it.

A soft ripple in the dimension. A warm current in his aura.

He stood.

From the silver path carved into the skyfield, two figures approached. One, with long deep blue hair flowing like liquid starlight, her eyes like blue ice. The other, radiant and white skinned, wrapped in silver and gold, her aura pulsing with ancient empathy and chilliness—Pisces and Seraphis.

They stopped only a few feet from him.

Pisces was the first to speak, though her voice trembled slightly. “You waited.”

“I did,” Ethan said softly, eyes gentle. “I always do for the ones who don’t rush but feel everything.”

Seraphis placed a hand gently on Pisces’s back, her own gaze steady. “We didn’t want to come crashing in like the others. We wanted you to feel us first.”

“I always have,” Ethan murmured. “But… I’ve missed you both.”

He stepped forward.

Pisces lowered her head as if overwhelmed, but Ethan gently tilted her chin up. She looked into his eyes—and there was no judgment there. No regret. Just the kind of love that made you feel seen without ever saying a word.

“You never once forgot me,” she whispered.

“Not even in the deepest parts of my coma,” he replied. “You were the calm. The voice under the storm.”

He leaned in and kissed her forehead—slow, reverent. Her eyes fluttered closed, tears welling but not falling. Then, he turned to Seraphis, who gave a rare, vulnerable smile.

“And you,” he said, drawing her into his arms without needing to ask. “You kept the light in my memory. I could feel it… every time I wanted to give up, it was you. A whisper. A warmth.”

Seraphis leaned into his chest, her hands gripping his shirt. “I thought I lost you.”

“Never.”

Pisces stepped forward, and for the first time, all three embraced—each filling the space where something had been missing.

Above them, the Heartbloom Tree shed glowing petals, cascading like stars. The world around them pulsed in color and warmth, responding to the resonance of their reunion.

No words were needed after that.

Just the silence of a shared heartbeat. Just the warmth of long-lost love… returning home.

…

In a quiet chamber bathed in the soft, ambient glow of moonlight filtering through tall crystalline windows, Lisa sat by the open balcony, her golden eyes reflecting the stars above. The gentle night breeze tousled her short black hair as she leaned forward, elbows on her knees, deep in thought. Her muscular frame was tense, as though bearing a weight she wasn’t ready to speak of.

Behind her, the delicate sound of footsteps echoed lightly across the marble floor.

“You’re brooding again,” came Andriel’s voice, smooth and melodic, laced with concern. The moon elf’s silver hair shimmered as she stepped into the moonlight, her violet eyes glowing softly. Dressed in flowing night-silks, she looked like a spirit born of starlight and dreams.

Lisa didn’t turn. “I’m not brooding.”

Andriel raised an eyebrow, smirking faintly. “Then you’re just sulking quietly in the dark. Entirely different.”

Lisa huffed a short breath that might’ve been a laugh. “You always do that.”

“Do what?”

“Make everything feel less heavy.”

Andriel walked closer and knelt beside her, their shoulders brushing. “And you always carry everyone’s burdens like they’re yours alone.”

Lisa finally turned her head to meet Andriel’s gaze. “I can’t help it. It’s how I’m wired. Ethan… the kids… the others… I don’t want to fail any of them.”

“You haven’t. You won’t,” Andriel said softly, reaching up to brush a lock of Lisa’s hair behind her ear. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. But strength isn’t just fists and muscle… it’s knowing when to let someone in.”

Lisa searched Andriel’s face, then looked away. “I don’t know how to be soft.”

“You don’t need to be,” Andriel said, shifting closer. “You just need to be real. And you are, Lisa. So achingly real it hurts.”

Lisa turned again, slowly this time. The tension in her shoulders began to ease as Andriel placed a gentle hand over hers. Their fingers intertwined, light and dark, warmth meeting calm.

The silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was peaceful. A lull in the chaos.

“I like this,” Lisa whispered.

“Then let’s have more of it,” Andriel replied, her voice barely above a breath.

They sat there under the stars, two souls from different worlds, finding a rhythm that belonged only to them.