Morning light filtered softly through the windows.
Seraphina woke in tears, her arms wrapped around Asher, who slept peacefully beside her.
She held him a moment longer, then slowly untangled herself. Her hands trembled. Taking a deep breath, she began casting a soul-healing spell.
A soft, silvery light enveloped his body as she wove a delicate veil of magic around his soul. With quiet precision, she channeled her essence into his fractured spirit, trying to mend what time and fate had broken.
Sweat gathered on her brow. Her body shook. Hours passed.
Her lips paled. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.
Still, she refused to stop.
Seated on the floor, she flicked her fingers and cast a quiet cleaning spell—erasing the blood, the sweat, the mess.
Then she returned to his side. Brushing the hair from his face with trembling fingers, she whispered, "You always fix my messes like it's the most natural thing in the world."
Her voice cracked.
"You were five when you fixed my elixir. I was furious back then… just like I am now—because you keep pulling me back. Because you always pay the price for the chaos I create."
She leaned in, their breaths mingling, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"This game ends now, Ash. I won't let anything—not even fate—take you from me."
And then she was gone.
Too afraid to see him awake.
Too afraid he might not.
Asher's eyes opened slowly. A faint smile touched his lips.
"Now it's your turn to burn, my love."
He coughed, blood staining his sleeve as he wiped his mouth.
"You started this torment," he murmured, voice soft but resolute, "and I patiently endured it. Now… I'll wait. And you'll burn."
His lips curved—something between pain and affection.
"But unlike you, I'll live with you. And you'll be mine. Not because I'm cruel… but because I'm selfish."
He turned toward the space where she had been. Reaching out, he caressed the sheets, still warm.
"I've chased you for so long. But this time… I'll make you take my hand."
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"And we'll walk side by side."
Seraphina stepped into the Demaselene mansion.
Memories stirred in every corner—her mother's gentle eyes, the sound of her childhood laughter, the warmth of a once-whole family.
Her father had cared for this house with quiet devotion. No humans had ever been allowed inside—except her. Only a few pixies and dwarves had passed through, protected by the timeless barrier he made long ago.
A large family portrait still hung on the living room wall, surrounded by smaller photos—most of them of her.
She fell back into memories.
When her mother was alive.
Of her beautiful childhood.
And for a brief, aching moment…
She was just Seraphina.
Just a daughter.
Flashback ~
(Childhood Memories,11 years ago)
Selena now serves as Tower master of the South Magic Tower, with her younger brother, Sylvio, loyally at her side as Arc-Mage. Together, they cherish life within the Tower's mystic halls, immersed in ancient knowledge and arcane wonders.
Between the ancestral Hall estate and the spires of the Tower, Selena built a private villa—a sanctuary for herself and her beloved, Dominic. They named it
Demaselene—a peaceful haven where they now live with their five-year-old daughter, Seraphina.
Seraphina was her mother's treasured doll, her father's precious princess.
Before their home stretched the vast Magic Forest—an untamed realm no mage had ever conquered. Selena bore her guardianship, but Seraphina had her bond with it.
She befriended every creature—deer, pixies, birds, even the shyest beasts. One afternoon, they found her napping atop a tortoise. She crossed the lake on a swan, climbed trees with monkeys, and let squirrels curl in her hair. The forest echoed her laughter, its winds dancing to her joy. She was its heartbeat.
Dominic, now retired from politics, balanced magical research with doting on his daughter. He barely visited Nightshade's ancestral mansion anymore—as if he'd forgotten he had another family… and another child.
Seraphina never left his side. She braided his hair—sometimes with pixie help—and sprawled across Selena's desk, nose buried in magical tomes far beyond her age. Selena assumed she was playing pretend.
But Seraphina was a little troublemaker.
She brewed elixirs that released rainbow-colored smoke, animated her dolls to tear them apart, and merged pixies with butterflies to marvel at their shimmer. She dismantled enchanted devices with a flick and a giggle. The Tower adored her. She was their little star.
One evening, Dominic prepared an enchanted chessboard—a complex magical formation. As always, Seraphina tampered with it.
That night, as Selena and Dominic laughed over her antics, Dominic paused.
"Love… she didn't just mess with the formation," he whispered. "She unraveled it. Selena—our daughter is a genius."
Selena thought he was exaggerating. Until the ancient, untamable forest submitted.
Meanwhile, at the Hall estate, in a separate wing of the mansion, lived Sylvio and his small family, peacefully distant from the ever-growing storm of politics and legacy..
Sylvio and his wife, Angela, had a little troublemaker of their own: five-year-old Asher.
Asher disliked other children. He rarely spoke to anyone besides his mother.
One day, Angela asked gently, "Ash, baby, why don't you play with them?"
Asher glanced at the children and replied softly, "They talk badly in mind."
Sylvio, overhearing, paused. He recognized Asher as the rare gift of mental resonance.
Asher buried himself in books. The complex, magical toys Sylvio brought home were usually dismantled—often by Seraphina. But Asher never complained. He enjoyed the challenge.
He would restore what Seraphina broke—quietly and cleverly—reviving their lost enchantments.
Sylvio noticed something odd: Asher only fixed her broken toys.
They had never met and never seen each other.
One evening, Sylvio asked, "Asher, baby, why do you only fix these?"
Asher looked up with wide, gleaming eyes.
"Can't you see? These are challenges and puzzles."
His innocent words left Sylvio speechless.
Over time, he saw it clearly—without ever meeting among themselves, Asher and Seraphina were communicating. Sending each other riddles through the objects they altered.
Two minds. Silently playing.
Without ever speaking, they had become each other's first—and only—friends.