The halls of Blackthorn Castle echoed with silence. Not the comforting kind, but the heavy, guilt-drenched kind that weighed on every soul breathing inside its walls. No music played. No fires crackled. The wind didn’t howl—it whispered accusations.

  Vespera lay motionless in the obsidian chamber, her skin pale, lips barely tinted with the color of life. The cursed mirror was gone. Shattered. But the damage remained—etched not just into her veins, but into the hearts of those who loved her most.

  In the dim corridor just beyond her chamber, Yuvan stood stiff, his crimson eyes blazing with fury. Keven, disheveled, haunted, met his gaze with a silent storm.

  “You were supposed to protect her,” Yuvan hissed, voice like shattered glass. “You swore it on blood.”

  “I know,” Keven whispered, his voice fraying. “And I failed.”

  Yuvan’s fangs glinted. “You didn’t just fail. You let her walk into that trap. You stood there while—while that cursed thing swallowed her whole!”

  “I didn’t know!” Keven roared, stepping closer. “I didn’t know what it was—none of us did!”

  “You didn’t listen,” Yuvan spat. “You never do. You’re too blinded by love to see the danger!”

  “And you’re too obsessed with control to let her breathe!” Keven snapped back, trembling now. “Everything she did—she did because she wanted to prove something to you.”

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  A harsh silence fell between them. The truth stung more than either expected.

  Inside the chamber, Vespera’s breath caught slightly, a flicker of life—and pain.

  Neither noticed.

  Keven ran his hands through his hair, stepping back. “I’d trade my soul if it would bring her back.”

  Yuvan turned away, fists clenched. “She wouldn’t want your soul. She wanted your truth.”

  ??? Later That Night…

  The castle doors creaked open slowly. A figure in dark robes stepped inside without a word. No one saw who opened the gates. No one saw him enter.

  He moved like smoke—unhurried, unseen—yet the castle seemed to shiver with every step he took.

  Keven was the first to see him standing in Vespera’s room.

  “Who are you?” he asked, stepping between the figure and Vespera’s still form.

  The figure did not answer. He held out a hand. Long fingers, cold and pale.

  “Let him,” came Yuvan’s voice from behind. For once, his tone lacked command—it carried only tired hope.

  The figure knelt beside Vespera and began to chant in a language neither of them knew. Symbols flickered briefly around her body—blood-red and ancient. His hand hovered over her chest, glowing faintly.

  Vespera stirred.

  A gasp. A twitch of her fingers.

  But her eyes remained closed.

  When the figure finished, he turned without a word. But before he vanished, he pressed a mark onto her palm — a symbol that glowed for just a moment before fading into her skin.

  “Wait!” Keven shouted. “Who sent you? What did you do?”

  No answer.

  He was gone.

  ?? Final Lines

  Later, as Keven sat at her side, watching her breathe, Yuvan studied the strange mark.

  “I’ve seen that symbol before…” he murmured.

  Keven looked up, sharp. “Where?”

  Yuvan didn’t respond immediately. His eyes widened—filling not with fear, but something deeper.

  Recognition.

  “…It’s not a healer’s mark.”

  The chamber grew colder.

  Vespera’s lips parted in her sleep, just slightly—enough to whisper a word neither of them caught.

  But it was not their name she spoke.

  something lost.

  Nyx Bloodthorn ???