In the darkness.
Then—coughing. Wet, shallow.
A child's voice, hoarse and small.
"Mommy… it hurts…"
She's running. Endless hallways. Fluorescent lights flicker above as door after door blurs past. Her hands tremble. Pills. Soup. Anything to stop the pain.
"Just hold on, baby. Please. Mommy's here."
The room is cold. Her daughter lies in a hospital bed far too big for her tiny body. Her skin is pale, clammy. Sweat gathers on her forehead like dew.
"I'm sorry," Mirae whispers, kneeling at the bedside, her voice cracking. "I'll get help, I promise—just wait—"
"It hurts so much, Mommy!"
The scream tears through her like glass. Tiny hands clutch a fragile chest. The monitor beeps erratically—
Then flatlines.
"No—no, no, no! Stay with me! Don't go—!"
Hands on her daughter's shoulders. Shaking. Begging. But she's already still.
The world twists.
Now her daughter stands alone in the dark, wreathed in shadows. Her eyes gleam with grief. And accusation.
"Why couldn't you save me…?"
---
Selene jolted upright.
Sweat clung to her skin. Her breath came in sharp, ragged gasps.
Her hands trembled.
Tears streaked down her cheeks.
Those memories.
"Ah…" she whispered, her voice hoarse. "That's right… I was her. Mirae. The miserable woman who lost everything…"
She swallowed the rising bile of guilt, chest heaving as reality slowly stitched itself back around her.
A rustle.
She turned her head—
And froze.
There, curled beside her on the bed, eyes wide and watching, was Liora.
Silent.
Staring.
Selene's lips parted, but no words came. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Liora's gaze didn't waver.
"…You were crying," Liora said softly.
Selene blinked, caught between two lives, two names, two daughters.
"I…" She faltered.
The child reached out and took her hand. Small. Warm. Trusting.
"Did you have a bad dream too?"
And Selene felt her heart fracture and beat anew all at once.
---
Selene sniffed and said, "I…"
"It's okay… I have bad dreams too…" Liora murmured, her voice hushed and a little wobbly. "Sometimes… and since I never had anyone to comfort me… sometimes Grandma does. But you know, my grandparents don't always stay here for a long time…"
She paused, fidgeting with the blanket, eyes flickering between Selene's face and the darkness beyond.
"Anyways, what I'm saying is that… it's okay if you cry too."
Selene's breath hitched.
Liora gave her a small, awkward pat on the hand. "If you want… I can stay with you. Just like how I hope someone stays with me when I'm scared."
A silence bloomed between them—quiet, tender, fragile.
Selene looked down at the child's hand in hers. It was warm. Real. Alive.
And for the first time since waking from that nightmare, she let herself breathe.
"Thank you," she whispered, voice breaking. "You're… really kind, Liora."
Liora grinned—gap-toothed and earnest. "You're welcome."
Then, with sleepy confidence, she shuffled closer and rested her head against Selene's arm.
Selene hesitated… then slowly wrapped an arm around her. Her grip was tentative. Reverent. As if holding something both precious and impossible.
"Oh, right… think of it as a way of saying thank you for saving me…" Liora murmured, her voice thick with the sleepiness that was slowly overtaking her. She shifted slightly, making herself more comfortable against Selene's side. Her small hand still held onto Selene's, as though anchoring them both in that fragile, quiet moment.
Selene pursed her lips, fighting her tears, and she said, "I am glad I was able to save you."
---
Outside the room.
A young man with light blue hair and piercing blue eyes stood in the shadows, observing the quiet scene inside. His back was against the wall, his posture stiff, and his gaze sharp. He had been watching Liora leave her room, worried for a moment when the child seemed so out of place at this hour. But seeing her now, curled beside Selene, a soft look on his face, he knew that there was more to the story.
This is really odd... He thought, his brow furrowing. I was wondering why the little lady left her room. I should go report this to the Duke.
His lips pressed into a thin line, and without another word, he turned and left the hallway, disappearing into the manor.
---
At the dungeon below the manor.
The flickering torches cast an eerie light across the stone walls. The air was thick with the scent of dampness and iron. A pair of violet-pulsing magical chains held Master Uros by his neck, hands and legs, suspending his bloodied form against the cold, unforgiving stone. He hung limp, his body battered, but his defiant eyes still gleamed with fury.
Leontius stood before him, towering in his regal authority. His expression was cold, eyes narrowed, fists clenched.
"Tell me exactly why you almost killed my daughter," Leontius demanded, his voice laced with restrained rage.
Uros's lips curled into a sneer, his voice hoarse and filled with venom. "My lord, I didn't want to harm your child. But you… my lord… how dare you take that position from me?"
Leontius stepped closer, his eyes flickering with disdain. "Given that you couldn't even control your magic at that moment shows exactly why I was chosen and not you. Don't you know that dark arts require a delicate balance?"
Uros's face twisted with fury, and despite the chains, he strained against his bonds. "You're nothing compared to a master like me, Leontius. Nothing!"
Leontius's gaze hardened, his voice cutting through the dungeon like a blade. "It's not just about power. It's about control, discipline… something you obviously lack."
The chains around Uros's limbs pulsed brighter, tightening their grip, and Uros hissed in pain, but Leontius wasn't done.
"You think you're worthy of that power?" Leontius's voice was quiet, but it cut like a blade dipped in poison. "You're mistaken. Master Uros, what you displayed was a disgrace."
With each word, the violet chains binding Uros tightened, glowing with malevolent light.
Uros let out a choked gasp, the pulsing magic crushing into his flesh like living iron. His body convulsed, restrained in the air by coils of shimmering force.
"You don't understand…" he hissed, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth. "I was meant for more. I was destined—I deserve it!"
Leontius tilted his head, unamused. "Deserve? You think power answers to your delusions? That ambition alone earns you the right to it?"
Uros snarled, his eyes wild. "You took my place—you, who—"
Leontius raised a hand.
The chains responded instantly, surging with violent power. Uros screamed as his limbs were forced taut, suspended like a broken marionette.
"You nearly killed my daughter," Leontius said, low and dangerously calm. "For what? Power? Recognition? Your petty grievances? That girl trusted you. And you repaid her with death."
Uros's defiance flickered. The pain was mounting; sweat dripped from his brow, blood from his lips.
"You don't deserve to wield dark magic," Leontius continued. "Because you cannot control it. You let it consume you, and in doing so, you became the very threat it was meant to destroy."
Still, Uros laughed, though it was a pitiful, broken sound. "You think you've won. But this—this won't be the end of me. I'll find a way—I'll—"
Leontius stepped forward.
"No," he said simply. "You won't."
With a flick of his wrist, the chains snapped tight. There was a sickening crack—then silence.
Uros's body collapsed in pieces. Neck. Arms. Legs. All severed cleanly. His head rolled to the side, his lifeless eyes still twisted with spite.
Footsteps echoed down the dungeon corridor. A young man with light blue hair and equally pale eyes stepped into the chamber, his face a mix of weariness and concern.
He looked at the remains without flinching. "My lord… you know this will affect your standing gravely."
Leontius didn't turn. He stood still, the remnants of magic fading from his hands.
"Yes," he said after a long pause. "I know."
He finally looked up, eyes heavy with pain but resolute.
"But he almost killed Liora."
The young man gave him a worried look, brows furrowed. "My lord…"
Leontius turned to him, his expression softening ever so slightly. "Don't worry, Sir Elias. I will handle it. Everything is still in my favor."
Elias didn't look convinced, but he bowed his head in silent acceptance.
"By the way," Leontius continued, his voice steadying, "how is Lady Selene?"
"She has awakened, my lord," Elias replied.
A breath of relief slipped past Leontius's lips. "Good. I must go see her—to thank her properly."
Elias hesitated before adding, "It seems the young lady has taken quite a liking to Lady Selene."
Leontius stilled, a quiet smile touching the corners of his mouth. "Is that so?"
"Yes. She left her room on her own last night and went straight to Lady Selene."
Leontius closed his eyes briefly, as though a weight had been lifted from his chest.
"…Then perhaps," he murmured, "the stars have not abandoned us yet."