Reborn, Its Time To Save My Family And.. My Enemy!
Chapter 189: A Lost Bloodline

Chapter 189: A Lost Bloodline

"Only your mother could give you the answers you needed." The strange dream Olivia had seen broke her. Even if she wanted to refuse, she knew she would be hiding from the truth when she needed to use it as her weapon.

Olivia stood slowly, her hand brushing along the bed’s wooden frame as she took in the room again—not as a girl remembering, but as a woman searching.

"She always said things were never truly lost... just waiting to be found," Olivia murmured, half to herself.

She looked around the house again. To her father’s study where the most important documents were kept. But even after looking for hours, she did not find anything.

She shook her head but Damon only held her hand and she walked toward the library. The books were already taken away and it was rotting.

"They have used them in an auction to pay." he explained and she nodded. Most of the decorative items were already gone and so were the clues.

"What if they have taken what we are searching for too." she asked, turning to look at him when he gulped.

"The book you have read in the hidden library comes from here only. I thought it was a joke, so I bought it to mock you. But then, i.. I could not find a chance to give it to you." Olivia stared at him for a long time not knowing how to reply now.

"But... I have confirmed that it was the only book about witches. Olivia, your mother knew the impending doom. She would not leave the book with her eyes open. Look around where they would not have looked. Where your mother spends most of her time or the most uncommon place where secrets could be hidden." Olivia let the words sink in.

Somewhere her mother could hide a secret for her! And suddenly she knew where to look.

She moved toward the corner room where her mother had kept a small cabinet once filled with threads, needles, and bits of lace. "Besides helping my father with the herbs, she loved embrouderly. She spent half of her day making something for us or just for charity." her voice was full of pain which did not go unnoticed by Damon. How he wanted to hold her and return to the manor, yet he stopped himself, nodding.

The door squeaked as she opened it. Dust floated free like old magic. Most of the drawers were empty now. There was nothing to be found. She looked at the last portrait they had left on the wall.

Her mother was smiling at her. It felt so real that she kept staring at it. Damon walked closer too with a frown.

"The frame is made of gold. It is strange that they left it." only then did she notice it and blinked.

"There are scratch marks around. Even cuts too. As if they tried hard but could not take it away." Damon touched the corners where several marks were left of struggle.

His eyes narrowed and he tried to pull away the portrait but he could not. One would think time had glued it with the wall. Perhaps moss or something sticky was the reason. But he knew better.

And the way he looked at Oliva, she bit her lips hard and took a step closer.

Olivia frowned and touched the corners. But the painting moved easily in any direction she tried.

She glared at him to play a joke. But his eyes told him he did not. He was afraid and so was she! Her pulse quickened and she gently held the portrait and pulled it away from the wall.

As if a jolt of lightning had hit her, she stumbled with the shock and staggered. Damon was quick to his steps and wrapped his arms around her shoulders to steady her.

"Olivia.." he asked, concerned. But she was not looking at him, she was looking at the small hole behind the painting of her mother. Damon moved behind her silently, sensing something had shifted.

Olivia’s breath caught as she lifted the thin wooden layer.

Inside, wrapped in faded green velvet, was a book.

Despite the ruined and rusty wood, the book did not have a speck of dust or moss growing on it. Bound in deep brown leather with strange markings scorched into its cover. Strange symbols she recognized not from her current life or past one. Yet she had seen one in the other book and used one last night. It was still hard to believe that her family knew about witches. Worse, she was one of them.

She unfolded the velvet, revealing the embossed words barely visible on the front:

"The Song of the Red Moon"

Her mother’s handwriting was scrawled across the inside cover.

To my daughter, Olivia.

You may not understand now, but you will.

Trust the blood. Trust your heart.

It is not a curse—it is our gift.

Love always,

—M.

Olivia stared at the inscription, her fingers tracing the looping letters.

"She knew," Olivia whispered. "She knew what I would become. Or maybe what I already was." The words felt like a betrayal.

"Then why did shen ot tell me? Prepared me for it?" her voice broke.

Damon leaned in, his gray eyes narrowing as he glanced over the symbols. "Perhaps you were not ready olivia. You were barely ten when you came to our house. Is it written by her?"

"Yes," Olivia said softly, a strange calm settling over her. "It’s hers. My mother was more than just the baroness. She knew about the bloodline. About the prophecy. She must’ve left this for me, knowing I’d return... knowing I’d need answers."

She opened the first page, and a folded letter slid out.

Olivia caught it before it hit the floor.

Hands shaking, she unfolded it and began to read. Damon watched her carefully, waiting. Her lips moved with the words, eyes scanning faster and faster—until she stopped. Her expression changed, frozen between heartbreak and revelation.

"What is it?" he asked quietly.

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