Mated To The Hybrid Prince - Chapter 114: Chapter 114

(Lily’s POV)
I had barely responded when the woman turned the bookstore’s “Open” sign to “Closed.”
My lips felt glued together, my heart pounding with uncertainty. The faint smell of old pages and candle wax hung in the air, yet something colder crept under my skin; it was the fear of the unknown.
She turned slowly, brushing her silver hair behind her ear, and walked back toward me with graceful steps. Her eyes, a piercing storm-gray, looked too young for her age.
Despite the white strands and light wrinkles, she seemed strong, like time had tried and failed to weaken her spirit.
“I’m Lydia,” she said finally. Her voice was low and steady, with an undertone that made the tiny hairs on my arm rise.
Lydia.
So it wasn’t a lie. She was real. A name Aunt Lamia had never mentioned. Why?
“Come with me,” she said, crossing her arms and tilting her head toward the back of the store.
I hesitated, my legs locked with caution. But curiosity... tugged me forward.
We passed through rows of worn-out shelves and handwritten signs, then she touched a dusty red book near the back corner.
Something clicked.
With a soft rumble, the shelf slid to the side, revealing a narrow hallway behind it.
My breath caught. Magic.
There were no flashy displays, just quiet, ancient power humming against the walls.
She led the way, and I followed.
The hidden space we entered was unlike the bookstore. The air here was warm with the fragrance of incense and wildflowers. There were glowing stones nestled into the walls, herbs hanging from the beams, and a soft blanket of silence that felt almost sacred. Cowries lined the corners of the room, and a small altar flickered with candlelight.
It oddly reminded me of Aunt Lamia’s inner room.
Tears welled in my eyes before I could stop them.
Lydia gestured for me to sit. A delicate cup of tea steamed in front of me, the aroma startlingly familiar; lavender, honey root, and a dash of cinnamon. Aunt Lamia’s special tea.
I took one trembling sip. The warmth slid down my throat, tugging memories along with it.
“I made it just the way she liked it,” Lydia said softly.
I looked up, startled. She was holding a small square photograph between two fingers. She stepped closer and placed it gently in my hand.
It was Aunt Lamia.
She was standing beside Lydia, both women smiling as though time itself had paused to witness their bond. Aunt Lamia had her arm draped casually around Lydia’s shoulder, and they were standing in front of the bookshop. The photo looked recent.
“We had this taken the last time she visited the human world,” Lydia whispered. “I didn’t know that it’ll be the last time I'll see her…”
I clutched the photo to my chest as grief hit me again like a crashing wave. Aunt Lamia had been here… with her.
The sob tore through my chest without warning. Tears streamed down my face as I cradled the photo, aching for the warmth of the woman who had truly mothered me. The one who had wiped my tears, whispered lullabies when I had fevers, and died protecting me and my babies.
Lydia knelt beside me and placed a hand gently on my shoulder. Her fingers were warm.
“I miss her too,” she said.
After a while, I wiped my face, exhaled shakily, and set the cup down. “Why did you ask to meet me?”
Lydia stood and moved to the large round window at the far end of the room. Sunlight filtered through, painting patterns of gold across the floor.
“There are things you must know, Lily,” she whispered “Things that began long before you were born.”
She turned slightly, her expression far away. “Centuries ago, the witches thrived peacefully in the supernatural realm. We were healers, guides, midwives. We honored the Moon Goddess, lived in harmony with others. Until… betrayal.”
She clenched her fists. “A single witch; Selene chose her fated mate over the King. The King, enraged by the rejection, ordered the destruction of our entire clan. Not just her, all of us.”
I gasped softly.
“He sent royal warriors to burn every village. Men, women, children… were burned alive, their magic stripped from their dying screams. It wasn’t war. It was massacre.”
Lydia’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, but her voice remained unwavering.
“Only five of us escaped. Sybilla, Elowen, Nyx, Morgana… and me.”
My breath hitched.
She continued, “We were young, terrified, and scared. We fled to the human realm, broken and afraid to return. Even when King Pison later rose to power, his cruelty kept us away.”
I listened, frozen, each word painting horrors in my mind. Then her tone shifted.
“It wasn’t until years later that I learned I had a cousin; Lamia. My aunt, her mother, had been a palace maid who escaped the massacre. She survived long enough to just give birth.”
She closed her eyes briefly. “The spirits told me of Lamia. She and I connected in dreams. We shared knowledge, spells, and history. We were family.”
I stared at her, speechless. I could almost see their resemblance now.
Lydia turned back to me and paced slowly.
“But time does not stop… and neither does darkness.”
She took a deep breath. “Morgana; my bestfriend… changed. She became obsessed with power. Even when King Eros came— better than Pison and the one before— we couldn’t convince her to return or forgive. She grew colder, and more secretive.”
“One night, during a full moon gathering of the coven, a pregnant Morgana was possessed by a force during one of our chants. Her eyes turned pitch black, and her voice… it was not her own.”
I shivered.
Lydia’s voice dropped. “She spoke of a prophecy. A child already born. A child chosen by Hades… The one who would make darkness rise from the ashes… and that her daughter would walk with this chosen to make it happen.”
I stopped breathing.
“The name Hades was forbidden in our coven,” Lydia continued. “We worshipped the Moon Goddess. To invoke his name during a sacred ritual could only mean one thing.”
I whispered, “She was corrupted.”
Lydia nodded. “The moment the prophecy ended, she went into labor right there on the sacred ground. And after her daughter was born… some of the younger witches followed her.”
“What did you do?”
“I had no choice,” Lydia whispered. “As High Circle Mother, I had to banish her. For her darkness would only grow. Once a witch becomes a vessel of Hades… there was no turning back.”
I could barely speak. My throat was dry.
“So she was named something else after that?”
Lydia nodded again. “The Stray. That’s what the coven calls her. A soul lost to darkness.”
My fingers trembled against the teacup.
“And you think… she’s behind my children’s kidnapping?”
“I do,” she said. “Not to hurt them, but to hurt you. To force your darkness to awaken by threatening what you love most. She’s been watching you, Lily, for so long.”
My chest tightened with dread.
Lydia walked over and gently touched the bracelet on my wrist. “Never remove this. Lamia gave it to you for a reason. It shields your light.”
I nodded slowly, overwhelmed by everything.
Then I looked up at her. “Why me? Why would Morgana care about me?”
“Because,” Lydia whispered, “you’re the child the prophecy spoke of. The one Hades chose. But choice does not mean fate. You can still rewrite your ending.”
She held my hand in hers, warm and strong.
“The future of the supernatural realm lies in your decisions.”
Silence fell between us.
I swallowed hard and nodded.
She pulled me into a gentle hug, and I held on, steadying myself in her strength.
As we walked back toward the front of the bookstore, my thoughts churned like a storm. Morgana; the Stray. Hades. The prophecy. And me.
I reached for the door handle.
“One more thing,” I whispered. “What’s her daughter’s name? The one meant to walk beside me?”
Lydia didn’t hesitate.
“Rose,” she said. “Her name is Rose.”
As I stepped outside, the sunlight brushing my cheeks, I made a decision to stay away from anyone named Rose.
But if only I knew…