The silence in the Moonwell estate was deceiving.
Because at its very heart, chaos had begun to rise.
Dark tendrils of magic curled through the air, old and forgotten, pulsing with the rhythm of grief. The chamber that once held warmth and love now bled sorrow. Candles blew out. The walls trembled. Time itself seemed to slow.
Lysandra stood at the center, her eyes no longer soft—but glowing, burning with forbidden light.
Caveen lay lifeless on the bed, the black arrow still lodged near his heart. His face was peaceful… too peaceful.
And it shattered her.
"I told you I'd protect you," she whispered, her voice cracking, fingers trembling as she drew a glowing sigil in midair. "I told you I'd never let you go…"
Her hands bled as the ancient runes etched into her skin. Blood smeared the floor beneath her—the circle of resurrection now complete.
This was the Moonwell's forbidden legacy.
Magic that rewrote life and death.
Magic that required an equal exchange.
The child in her womb kicked for the last time.
And still—she chanted.
> "Let breath fill him again… take mine, take time, take anything... but give him back to me..."
Her voice rose like a crescendo.
Her body arched, a scream ripping from her lungs—her magic pouring into the man she loved.
Just then—Lady Moonwell and her husband burst into the estate, the overwhelming surge of ancient power guiding them like a beacon.
"No… no—Lysandra!" Lady Moonwell's voice trembled with horror. "STOP!"
But it was too late.
The spell was complete.
Lysandra collapsed to her knees, blood pooling at her feet, her nightgown soaked from the waist down in crimson. Her eyes rolled back for a moment before she reached again for Caveen's hand—now warm.
He was breathing.
He was coming back.
But the moment was not victory. It was sacrifice.
A chilling silence fell as Lady Moonwell rushed to her side, catching her before she fell fully to the floor. Her hand instinctively went to Lysandra's stomach—and froze.
Empty.
No heartbeat. No flutter. Nothing.
Her gaze snapped to the blood-soaked floor. She understood. And her heart broke.
> "Foolish girl…" Lady Moonwell whispered, tears welling in her eyes. She pulled Lysandra close, voice cracking. "You resurrected him… but at what cost?"
Lysandra's face twisted in pain, not from her body—but from her soul.
> "The child…" she whispered. "I can't feel the child…"
Lady Moonwell could only nod. "It was the price. A soul for a soul. You gave up your baby… to bring him back."
Lysandra shook her head weakly. "I couldn't… I couldn't lose him. Not again…"
Lady Moonwell tightened her embrace, her tears falling into Lysandra's hair.
> "Even if he wakes," she said quietly, "even if he loves you… he will hate you for this."
The truth landed like a blade in Lysandra's chest. She clung to her mother, broken and trembling.
> "Let him hate me…" she sobbed. "Let him curse me… I will face his hate… because I— I cannot live in a world where he doesn't exist…"
From the bed, Caveen stirred.
A faint groan escaped his lips as his fingers curled slightly over the sheets.
He was coming back.
But what would he wake up to?
The first breath Caveen drew was ragged—sharp, like claws tearing through his lungs.
He gasped.
Eyes shot open.
The ceiling above him shimmered with runes still glowing from the spell. The scent of blood filled his senses—not his.
He sat up suddenly, eyes narrowing. "What… happened?"
He looked around in confusion—then his gaze fell on Lysandra.
She was crumpled on the floor, her gown soaked in blood from the waist down. Her hands were pressed over her belly, her face pale as snow, her eyes swollen with tears.
His heart stuttered.
> "Lysandra?"
She looked up at him slowly, pain carved into every inch of her face.
> "You're awake…"
His hand reached for her—then paused. Something was wrong.
Deeply wrong.
He scanned her with his eyes—then focused on the blood.
> "The baby… our child… where is—"
Silence.
His world froze.
His breath stopped.
> "Lysandra," his voice darkened, shaking, "where is our child?"
She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Only fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.
> "Tell me!" he shouted, his voice echoing like thunder against the chamber walls.
Lady Moonwell stepped forward, eyes red. "She used the forbidden magic… The Resurrection Spell. To bring you back…"
Caveen blinked once. Then again.
> "No," he whispered.
But the truth suffocated him.
His body trembled as he stood from the bed, taking a step back as if Lysandra herself burned him.
> "You… you gave up our child?"
"For me?"
Lysandra shook her head violently. "Caveen, I— I couldn't lose you again, I—"
> "So you let our child die instead?!" he roared.
His fury surged like a violent storm, shaking the very foundation of the estate. Power leaked from him uncontrollably.
> "You chose me over our baby? How could you?"
"What kind of mother… what kind of monster—"
His voice broke.
Lysandra cried harder, crawling toward him, her voice hoarse and pleading.
> "I love you… I couldn't bear—"
> "Then you should have let me die!" he growled, his eyes glowing with an unbearable rage. "I would have died knowing my child lived! That would have been peace!"
Each word sliced into her like a blade.
> "You killed what was pure between us. You took away what mattered most… You didn't love our child. You only loved me."
"No…" she sobbed, "that's not true—"
> "Don't lie to me!" he bellowed.
Lysandra reached for him, but Caveen stepped back, his jaw clenched, his voice breaking with bitterness.
> "I don't want to see you again. I don't want to be near you. You chose my life over the innocent soul we created—"
"You ended us, Lysandra."
She collapsed fully onto the floor as he turned his back.
Her scream of agony filled the entire manor.
He didn't look back.
Not once.
And when the sun rose the next morning—
Caveen was gone.