Luciana's body burned with fever, her skin slick with sweat as she lay motionless. The ritual had not ended as she had expected. Instead of relief, she was left trembling, haunted by the grotesque visions she had glimpsed in Erebus' memories. The presence of that forbidden existence still lingered, watching her even in the sanctuary of unconsciousness.
The ritual had concluded only after the heart was cleansed and returned to its rightful place, but the toll had been heavy. Jafar and Blake suffered burns from the searing heat, while Luciana's divine energy had been utterly depleted, plunging her into unconsciousness for two days. Only a select few servants had been permitted to tend to them, all under Blake's supervision. Mina remained by Luciana's side, nursing her under Derran's careful instructions.
Derran, despite his extensive knowledge, was troubled. Never before had he encountered such a condition in a pregnant woman. His concern deepened as he examined her pale, fragile form.
"Brother, will they be alright?" Mina asked hesitantly, her worried gaze fixed on Luciana.
Derran placed a reassuring hand on her shoulders. "They will wake in due time, without trouble."
The night passed slowly. As the hours stretched on, the servants gradually took their leave, leaving only Blake standing outside the chambers, waiting anxiously for his master to wake.
A sharp intake of breath signaled Erebus' return to consciousness. His fingers twitched, his senses slowly adjusting. His body felt... different.
"Lighter... at peace..."
For the first time in years, the ever-present weight on his chest had vanished. The pain that had once been his constant companion was gone. He sat up, flexing his fingers, marveling at the unfamiliar sensation of relief. Even the persistent ache in his head had disappeared.
His throat was parched. He swallowed, his gaze shifting—and then he froze.
Luciana lay beside him.
His eyes widened in shock.
Frantically, he reached for the bell beside his bed, ringing it with urgency. The sound barely had time to fade before Blake rushed in.
Blake stumbled to a halt at the doorway, his eyes brimming with emotion. His voice wavered as he spoke.
"M-Master... Thank the heavens... This is a miracle—the miracle that the young lady performed."
Erebus, still disoriented, turned to him with narrowed eyes.
"Blake… why is Aphrodite in my bed?"
Blake's expression shifted from joy to utter bewilderment.
"Eh? What?"
Erebus' voice sharpened with irritation. "Did you not hear me? Why is she here?"
The butler's breath hitched. His gaze darted between Erebus and Luciana.
"Master... you're mistaken," he said cautiously. "She is not Aphrodite. She is Lady Luciana of Amanécer—your lawful wife. You married her, and now, she carries your child."
A heavy silence filled the room.
Erebus scoffed. "Me? Married? No, that's impossible."
Blake took a step forward, concern etched across his face. "Master… are you in your right mind?"
Something was wrong. Erebus was... different. He was more expressive, more vocal. It was almost as if the cure had stripped away the emotional restraints that had long defined him.
"Try to remember, my Lord," Blake pleaded.
But Erebus waved him off. "Bring me water."
Blake hesitated before bowing and obeying.
Erebus took the wooden cup, drinking deeply before setting it aside. His gaze returned to Luciana, his expression unreadable.
Fragments of memory flickered through his mind—faint, disjointed, but there.
The wedding ceremony.
The time she had tried to escape.
The moment he had claimed her as his wife.
The night he bed her and consummated the marriage.
His jaw tensed as the memories coalesced into something tangible. The way she had looked at him that night—he could recall it now. The warmth of her skin, the way her lips had parted in a mixture of defiance and surrender. Her moans from that night still fresh in his mind and ears.
He felt heat creep up his neck.
Shaking his head, he threw off the lingering haze of recollection and rose from the bed. His limbs felt stiff from disuse, but he ignored it, striding toward the bathing chamber.
Blake had ensured the bath was warm this time, a small but appreciated detail. Luciana had apparently been the one to insist on the change, knowing Erebus had a stubborn habit of bathing in freezing water.
Fresh clothes were folded neatly beside the bath, along with new cotton bandages and rolled towels. The glow of candlelight flickered against the polished wooden shelves, casting elongated shadows across the walls.
Erebus submerged himself in the water, his muscles slowly relaxing.
And then, without warning, the memories surged back in full force.
His head ached briefly, but the pain quickly faded.
The wedding.
The way she had looked at him in defiance.
The night he had first touched her.
His fingers tightened against the rim of the tub. He exhaled sharply, closing his eyes.
"Luciana..."
She had tried to leave him. But instead of punishing her, instead of casting her away... he had kept her.
She was his wife. Moreover, he forcefully bed her and now his child grew within her.
Erebus ran a hand through his damp hair, feeling the weight of realization settle over him. Was it guilt? Or late realization. He was still confused.
When he finally stepped out of the bath, he dried himself, dressed in black woolen trousers, and donned a fresh shirt before stepping out into the dimly lit chambers.
Luciana remained asleep.
He looked at her for a long moment, his gaze fell on her slightly parted lips. He placed his hand carefully on the small and delicate frame of her face. Her skin was smooth like glass and pale like milk with tint of rosiness in her cheeks. When he felt her lips. They were delicate, rose colored and plump soft against his hardened hands. Something stirred inside of him by looking at her.
He then turned, grabbing his axe before leaving the room.
The rhythmic thwack of arrows striking targets echoed through the training grounds.
Jafar stood alone, practicing his aim.
"Training by yourself?" Erebus called out.
Jafar startled mid-shot, sending his arrow off course. He turned swiftly, eyes widening in disbelief at the sight of Erebus standing before him. His master, alive and whole.
"Master! You're awake!" Jafar hurried forward, voice thick with emotion. "How are you feeling? No—more importantly, how is Milady? Has she woken?"
The barrage of questions made Erebus raise a hand, silencing him.
"She's still asleep," he said grimly.
Jafar's expression fell. He looked down, scuffing his boot against the mud.
"She must have taken a toll on her health." He muttered.
Erebus narrowed his gaze. "What are you saying?"
"Milady took the toll for curing you," Jafar admitted. "She sacrificed her energy—her health—to free you from the curse."
Erebus stiffened. "Luciana... she rid me of the curse?"
Jafar nodded solemnly. "It was my request."
Silence stretched between them.
Then, without warning, Erebus' fist connected with Jafar's jaw.
The force sent Jafar sprawling across the training grounds. He groaned, clutching his face as he struggled to his knees.
Erebus loomed over him, fury simmering in his dark eyes.
"You used a feeble, pregnant woman for your selfish request?" His voice was low, dangerous.
Jafar remained silent.
Yet, despite the pain, a small smile tugged at Jafar's lips.
"He's finally showing emotion..."
Erebus cracked his knuckles. "Answer me before I make you taste another one of my fists."
Jafar wiped the blood from his lip and looked up. "I did it to save your life. That's all I wished for."
Erebus exhaled sharply. The rage in his shoulders eased—just slightly.
"Tell Blake to bring breakfast to the chambers. I'll handle things myself," he ordered before turning away.
Jafar remained kneeling in the dirt, watching as his master strode away.
A satisfied smirk crossed his face.
"At least now, you'll be able to live a better life."