Chapter 9
1446 Words
Isaldora stood at the window, the city stretched beneath her in a buzz. Today, she will step into the light—as the elusive heiress behind Aether.
Her eyes flicked to her reflection in the glass. For a moment, she barely recognized the girl staring back. This wasn’t the daughter of Aetherwyn. Not anymore.
Four years, six months, and fourteen days had passed since her world was burned to ash. Since her dreams turned to nightmares and her heaven became a lonely hell.
A heavy sigh escaped her lips as grief hit her. It lodged in her throat like a blade. And with it, the reminder that she was all alone. Utterly. Terrifyingly alone.
A soft knock broke her reverie. Her head turned.
Renna stepped inside, composed as ever—her voice steady. “They’re ready for you. The press is already assembled downstairs.”
Isaldora gave a single, silent nod.
She looked breathtaking. Dressed in a dark, tailored ensemble that commanded attention without asking for it, Isaldora stood still before the glass. Her long hair was swept into a high ponytail, revealing the sharp, flawless structure of her face. Minimal makeup. Immaculate. Lethal.
Then—within a moment,
The moonlit silver of her hair warmed slightly. Her silver-violet eyes faded into a striking blue-green. Not too much. Just enough to look more human.
Behind her, Renna's breath caught. Just for a second but said nothing. Of course, she thought. She’s a witch. She can do a lot more than that.
Without a word, Isaldora stepped past her, exiting the office with Renna falling in behind. Another assistant—once Renna’s secretary, now functioning under Isaldora—joined them, carrying an apple tablet as she followed suit.
The conference room was immense, sleek, and humming with anticipation. Rows of reporters, photographers, and media representatives packed the space. As the double doors to the conference room opened and Isaldora entered, a wave of hushed murmurs spread like a ripple in the air. Everyone turned as cameras flashed.
She walked with practiced poise, unbothered, each step deliberate, expression unreadable. She took her place at the long glass table at the front, Renna settling beside her. The assistant hovered nearby, awaiting a cue.
Renna gave a subtle nod, and the questions began.
A well-known reporter raised his hand first, wearing a smirk too smooth to be sincere. “I think I speak for everyone when I say… we weren’t expecting the heir of Aether to be this young—and dangerously breathtaking.”
Light chuckles scattered across the room.
Isaldora didn’t blink. She held his gaze with a cold smirk, her expression unreadable. This one was known for scandals and flirty headlines. She just stared at him blankly.
The reporter cleared his throat after a while, shifting uncomfortably. “Right. Um—how does it feel to finally step forward and claim your place as the head of Aether?”
Isaldora’s voice was calm, cool, without sounding detached. “It feels… necessary. This is what I was meant to do.”
Questions followed in rapid succession—about Aether’s origins, its meteoric rise, its mysterious leadership. Isaldora and Renna handled them with precision—polished, vague where it mattered, firm where it didn’t.
“Aether was something my father envisioned,” Isaldora said at one point. “I only brought it to life.”
“And Miss Vane,” another reporter cut in, “how are you related to Ms. Aether?”
Renna froze for the briefest moment, but Isaldora answered before the silence could stretch.
“She’s my aunt,” she said smoothly, cool and easy, casting Renna a sidelong glance with the faintest smile. “And someone I trust implicitly. She’s always been family.”
Renna blinked, startled—but recovered quickly with a smile. “Family and loyalty,” she added with a nod. “That’s what Aether stands on.”
“Ms. Aether,” another reporter chimed in, “your company is flourishing faster than anyone expected. It's success is nothing short of remarkable. What’s next? And will your aunt remain involved?”
Renna answered first. “I’ll be staying on as my niece’s secretary. She still needs me, I think.”
That earned a few polite laughs.
Isaldora’s lips curved slightly. “And yes—we’re preparing to launch a new branch of our perfumes with a luxury fragrance line. La Dora. You’ll be hearing more soon.”
For nearly two hours, the questions continued—some bold, some probing, some far too curious. But Isaldora remained unshaken, her anwers deliberate with a calculated smile.
As the final question faded, Renna leaned forward, her voice slicing through the murmur with crisp poise.
“Before we conclude,” she said, offering a gracious smile, “we’d like to share one last announcement.”
The room stilled in silence.
“By week’s end,” Renna continued, “a private welcome reception will be held in honor of my niece’s official debut. It will mark the beginning of a new chapter for Aether.”
Interest sparked. Murmurs rose, sharper now.
“And we’re extending an early invitation,” she added with a measured smile, “to all of you here today.”
A reporter near the front raised a brow. “Strictly corporate… or will there be prominent guests?”
Renna glanced at Isaldora—for the briefest moment.
Isaldora met the crowd again, cool and poised. “Everyone will be welcome,” she said. “Some faces more recognizable than others.”
A ripple of speculation ran through the room.
Then Isaldora stood. Renna followed.
The cameras surged as they turned and walked out with the same effortless grace they’d entered.
Behind them, the room buzzed with a frenzy of whispers and flashing lights.
....
Kaelith lounged on the leather couch in his bedroom, one arm thrown over the backrest, the other scrolling absently through a tablet. He wasn't really reading. His mind was elsewhere—half on council reports, half on the persistent itch beneath his skin that hadn’t faded since that damn courtyard ritual. But then—
His his eyes narrowed as a headline blinked into view,
“Isla Aether Returns: The Heiress Steps Forward to Reclaim the Aether Empire”
His brows lifted slightly.
Aether... That name had been floating and growing louder over the past years. He had heard a lot about them.
He tapped the article. The photograph expanded— to a young woman sitting before a sea of reporters with calm authority and poise.
Too young, yet arresting.
Her presence leapt from the screen—elegant, composed. Hair swept back with effortless grace, skin aglow beneath the lights. But it wasn’t just her beauty that caught him—it was something else.
Kaelith stared at the image longer than expected.
Something stirred inside him. A strange tightness curled low in his chest, unfamiliar and sudden. A flicker of heat. Attraction, maybe. Curiosity. Pull.
Even his wolf stirred restlessly beneath his skin, pacing just beneath the surface. Ears twitching.
He had met countless women—too many, frankly. None had ever sparked this reaction. None had ever made his pulse hitch like this.
He exhaled, jaw flexing as he leaned back.
Who was this Isla Aether? The question lingered in his mind.
The door of his room clicked open behind him.
“Yo man,” came Xavier’s voice, light but alert. “I figured you’d be here.”
Kaelith blinked once, tearing his eyes from the tablet.
Xavier entered, flopping into the chair across from him, still dressed from training.
“You look weird,” he said. “What were you looking at?”
Kaelith gave him a look. “News.”
Xavier grinned. “You never look that serious over news.” He flopped onto the nearby armchair. “Something interesting?”
Kaelith shrugged, setting the tablet aside. “Not really.”
But Xavier had seen the glint of the headline before the screen dimmed.
“Aether, huh?” he said offhandedly. I’ve heard people talking about them lately. Came out of nowhere, now they’re everywhere.”
Kaelith gave a slight nod, but said nothing.
Xavier studied him for a second. “You good?”
Kaelith didn’t respond right away. His gaze dropped to the tablet, the image still glowing faintly on the screen.
“Something about that girl…”
Xavier raised a brow. “You like her?”
Kaelith shot him a look—flat, unimpressed.
Xavier laughed. “Relax. Wasn’t accusing you of catching feelings. It’s just rare to see you even notice someone.”
Kaelith turned away, eyes drifting toward the window, jaw ticking.
- Writer
