Chapter 2 Rhysand Vane.

Just as Isolde felt that there was almost nothing left to hold on to, the sound of footsteps approached. The neighbours, who had been watching the expulsion with pity, began to approach them.

Some of them spoke words of comfort, offering sincere sympathy. However, in Isolde's heart, the words felt empty. None of them could provide a real way out.

Most of them were simple families, living a meagre existence. Even they were no more fortunate. Isolde felt smaller and smaller, almost like she was floating in the vast ocean without a buoy, while Livia could only clutch her hand tightly.

What money they had left was only enough to rent a cramped room in an old inn at the edge of town, a place not far from the abyss of nothingness they now faced. The world was getting smaller and more shadowy, and they didn't know where else to go.

The room was far from decent, with damp walls and a musty smell stinging their noses. But it was the only place they could afford.

A determined Livia wandered around the city every morning, looking for work. She would do anything - waitress, shopkeeper, even washerwoman - as long as she could help her mother.

However, fate did not seem to be on her side.

Day after day, she returned home empty-handed, greeted by her mother's wistful gaze and the increasingly suffocating atmosphere of her guesthouse room.

Rejection after rejection made Livia's spirit slowly fade. Despair began to gnaw at her heart. Was she destined to live a miserable life after her father's departure? Would she never be able to make her mother happy again?

One afternoon, Livia sat pensively on a bench in the city park, looking at the children running around happily as if their world was entirely of colour.

Livia bit her lip, trying to keep the tears from falling. The memories just came to her- too vivid, too alive in her mind.

Looking at the children, Livia remembered the warmth and joy of the morning of her birthday...

One month ago...the morning sun greeted us warmly, spreading its rays throughout Ravenhold.

In a simple yet beautiful house, the aroma of freshly baked blueberry cake wafted from the kitchen, tickling the senses and awakening hunger.

It was a special day, the day Livia turned 20 years old. In the dining room, the table was set with a pastel-coloured cloth decorated with a vase of cheerful daisies.

With her golden brown hair flowing beautifully, Livia excitedly arranged the birthday cake in the centre of the table.

"Mom, the cake is ready!" she exclaimed cheerfully, her eyes twinkling. A middle-aged woman with red hair came out from behind the kitchen door.

A gentle smile was etched on her face, radiating a comforting warmth. "Wow, your cakes are getting prettier and prettier, Livia," she praised, walking over to Livia and giving her daughter a loving peck on the forehead.

"Your father must be proud to see you grow up to be such a clever and kind girl."

"Ah, you could be," Livia replied, her cheeks rosy. "I was just trying out a new recipe I found in my grandmother's cookbook."

"Your grandmother was a good cook," her mother recalled, her gaze distant, as if lost in memories. "Her blueberry cake was always a staple at every family event."

"Mom, did grandma ever tell you about Ravenhold?" asked Livia, curiosity sparkling in her clear eyes. Livia's question made the smile on her mother's face fade. She was silent momentarily, her delicate fingers gently stroking Livia's cheek.

"Ravenhold?" Her mother repeated as if hearing the name for the first time. "Ah, I think Grandmother only ever told me about the village where she grew up. Honey, can you get your father? This cake will be even better if we eat it together."

Livia frowned, surprised by her mother's reaction."Okay, Mom," she replied obediently, though curiosity still niggled at her heart. She moved away from the dining table to her father's study on the second floor.

Rhysand Vane's study always felt warm and cosy, with the faint scent of old wood and beer wafting up from downstairs, where he usually worked.

The walls were lined with wooden shelves filled with books, ranging from classic novels to thick encyclopedias. An ancient world map hung neatly in the corner of the room, showing exotic places that might only exist in dreams.

Behind a sturdy mahogany table was a tray of leftover cookies and two glasses. One glass contained leftover beer and the other contained water. Rhysand must have just enjoyed his leisure time before returning to work.

"Dad," Livia called softly," I've prepared your favourite blueberry cake."Rhysand turned his head, a warm smile spread across his face that was beginning to be dotted with the fine lines of time.

His blond-brown hair was slightly messy, adding a warm, earthy feel to his figure.

"Ah, my beautiful daughter has grown into a big girl," she greeted, rising from her chair and approaching Livia. "Twentieth birthday, isn't it?"

"Yes, Father," Livia replied, her cheeks blushing under her father's gentle peck on her forehead.

"You know, Livia," Rhysand whispered, his eyes twinkling meaningfully," your mother was also excellent at your age. Even more beautiful than any painting."

Livia was stunned, sensing a hint of longing in her father's voice. "Father often told me about your past," she said softly," but Mother... Mother seemed reluctant to discuss it."

Rhysand sighed softly, his gaze distant, as if looking back at the memories neatly stored in the recesses of his heart.

"The past is not always pretty to look back on, Livia," he said softly," but believe me, your mother loved you very much. You are the most precious treasure in her life."

"I know, Father," Livia replied, understanding the turmoil in her father's heart. "But... sometimes I feel like you're hiding something.

Especially about Grandma. I don't even know her full name."Rhysand paused, his sturdy fingers rubbing his chin, adorned with a thin beard, a sign that he was deep in thought. He sighed long as if a heavy weight was crushing his chest.

"Livia," he said, things might be too complicated for you to understand right now. Your mother's past... is full of shadows we should not revisit."

"Shadows?" repeated Livia, her curiosity piqued. "What shadows, Father?"

Rhysand paused, his gaze drifting to the painting on his desk. It was a painting of himself by Isolde when they first met.

At first glance, the painting looked ordinary. However, Rhysand could see his reflection in the painting, a wolf with pitch-black fur howling under a blood-red moon.

"Father?" called Livia, breaking Rhysand's reverie. "What's wrong?"Rhysand gasped, hurriedly taking his eyes off the painting. "No... it's fine," he replied, trying to smile. "We'd better get downstairs. Your mother must be waiting."

"All right, Father," Livia replied, though curiosity still niggled at her heart. She knew there were times when she had to be patient and wait for the right time.

Livia and Rhysand went downstairs to the dining room, where Isolde had prepared an appetising breakfast. The aroma of warm chamomile tea and the fragrance of toast and raspberry jam create a cosy and loving morning atmosphere.

"Happy birthday, my dear," Isolde said, welcoming Livia with a warm hug. "May you always be blessed with happiness and good fortune on your 20th birthday."

"Thank you, Mother," Livia replied, her heart warmed by her parents' love. Breakfast that morning was filled with laughter and family warmth. Rhysand excitedly told funny stories about Livia as a child, making Isolde and Livia laugh out loud.

After breakfast, Rhysand gave Livia a special gift: a leather-bound sketchbook engraved with her initials. "I know you like to draw a lot, Livia," Rhysand said as she handed over the book," I hope this book will help you capture more of your imagination."Livia accepted the book with sparkling eyes. "

"Thank you, Father," she said, hugging Rhysand tightly. "I love it so much!"

"Well, I don't have any special gifts," Isolde chuckled," But I've cooked all your favourite foods for dinner tonight. How's that?"

"Wow, seriously, Mom?" exclaimed Livia enthusiastically. "You're the best mom in the world!"

The next afternoon, their house was filled with excitement. Livia's close friends came to celebrate her birthday. There was laughter, music, and the smell of freshly baked blueberry cake. Livia felt very happy, surrounded by people she loved.

Amid the festivities, a phone call broke the joy. Rhysand frowned when he saw the caller's name on his cell phone screen.

"Sorry, I have to answer the phone for a moment," he said to Livia before moving away from the crowd. Rhysand's initially bright face slowly paled when he heard the panicked voice from the other side. He staggered back, his hands shaking as he held the phone.