Truth has a way of shattering reality like a stone through glass. As Mother's words faded – the tale of her sacrifices, her friendship, her love – I stared down at my hands. These hands, calloused and scarred, had once wielded power beyond mortal understanding. Now they trembled in the moonlight, like leaves clinging to a branch before a storm.

  The air around the grave thickened, heavy with the scent of nightshade and damp earth. Shadows twisted as clouds rolled across the moon, stretching and distorting into shapes that felt too alive. Each breath sliced through my chest like broken glass. Pain was better than the numbness threatening to creep in. It anchored me, barely, to this unraveling moment.

  "Is this why—" My voice cracked. I swallowed, forcing the words out. "Is this why I've always felt hollow inside? Like something was missing, but I could never name it?"

  Mother didn’t answer immediately. Her green eyes, so sharp and steady before, now shimmered with grief as ancient as the stars. The lines on her face deepened, carved by secrets too heavy for one lifetime. When she finally spoke, her voice trembled like a whisper caught on the wind.

  "I'm sorry, I should have told you sooner." Mother's voice trembled like a leaf in a storm. She took a step toward me, and moonlight caught the tears on her cheeks. "You deserved to know, but you never showed any signs as you grew. Just dreams, fragments that weren't even whole. I thought the ritual had failed." Her breath hitched. "I wanted you to have a peaceful life, Einar. I wanted you to have a life that I never got to live, away from stares that will mock on your failures and remain silent on your success."

  The name struck me like a physical blow. Einar. Was it even my name, or just another hand-me-down from a past life? The anger that surged through me felt both foreign and familiar, like wearing another man's clothes that somehow fit perfectly.

  "A peaceful life?" Magic stirred in my blood, responding to my rage. The air around us grew heavy, charged like the moment before lightning strikes. "Then why are my memories gone? If I was this... warrior, this man who fought for an entire race, why would you take that from me?" Each word carried more heat than the last. "Why hide it?"

  Mother flinched as if I'd struck her. For a moment, she looked older than I'd ever seen her, weighted down by secrets older than both our lives. "The seal we placed on you," she began, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper, "it was only meant to suppress your magic. To keep you safe from yourself, it was a precaution. Your magic may have devoured you, killing you before even getting to see the world." She wrapped her arms around herself, a gesture so human it made my chest ache. "It never touched your memories. Those were sealed by something... older, something far beyond any power we possess."

  "What do you mean?" The words cut through the night air like a blade. Around us, shadows seemed to deepen, as if the darkness itself was listening. "Speak plainly, Mother. I've had enough of half-truths and riddles."

  “There were carvings on your heart, that were gasping it like threads of blood.”

  “Threads?”

  “Yes. And in those was one that sticks out more than the others. Inscription on that was different than others, like a wooden patch on the bucket.”

  “What were others like?”

  "Those threads..." Her hands moved through the air, tracing patterns I couldn't see but somehow recognized. "There were some carvings in ancient language, carved into your heart through those threads. Valeria..." She hesitated, and that name – that name sent lightning through my veins. "She didn't tell me everything, but she said it was done to protect you."

  Valeria. The name echoed through the hollow spaces in my mind, filling them with fragments of memory: the scent of mountain air, the sound of laughter like silver bells, the warmth of a hand in mine. The woman whose tears fell for me as I died, not the one who drove the sword through my heart.

  "Who was she?" My voice cracked, my throat dry as sand. "Who is she... to me?"

  "She was..." Mother’s voice wavered. She steadied herself, her gaze locking onto mine. "She is your Karissa." The words fell heavy, laden with truths I didn’t want to face. "Your beloved. Your wife. Your soul bond."

  A cold wind howled through the graveyard, stealing the breath from my lungs. My knees buckled, and I hit the ground, the impact jarring but distant. Not just dreams. Not just echoes. A life. A love. A bond forged in fire and blood, ripped apart by death. The weight of it pressed down on me, crushing, suffocating.

  "Where is she?" My voice barely rose above a whisper. "Where is Valeria?"

  Mother’s eyes dropped to the earth. "I don’t know." The admission tore through me like a blade. "She gave me this." She held out an amulet, its surface dull and lifeless. "Told me she will find her way to you. But it hasn’t responded in years. I fear... she may be lost."

  "Lost." The word echoed in the hollow space where my memories should have been. My hand shot out, gripping the amulet my mother wore until my knuckles bleached white. The metal felt cold, lifeless against my skin.

  "And Aevadorn?" The name, bitter and ancient, rolled off my tongue. "What is that place? All the dreams that have lingered with me were either fighting never ending war on some dry wastelands like slaves."

  "Valeria described it as a sacred isle, far to the south where the dry wastelands give way to the endless ocean. There, before the sea meets the grasslands, a hidden bridge begins, veiled beneath shimmering waters, yet firm beneath the feet of those who walk it. Mountains rise to guard its threshold, their peaks lost in mists of time, standing as silent sentinels. Beyond lies the island where the gods once lived, a land untouched by mortal decay, where the whispers of eternity still linger.’"

  “Such land… what happened to it? Has it never been discovered?”

  "Einar..." She shook her head, green eyes dimming. "It never existed. Not in any records, not in any history books. There are no mentions of the land of dragons, no tales of beings such as Drakon."

  My legs nearly buckled. I'd suspected something like this, but hearing it spoken aloud... Each word was another nail in a coffin I hadn't known I occupied.

  "I've searched everything," she continued, words tumbling out now. "If it truly existed, it's been an unexplored place beyond the Kaal, in the wilderness, as Valeria mentioned. There were dragons in the old era, but no one like you... not like Valeria."

  "I've searched everything," she continued, words tumbling out now. "If it truly existed, it's been an unexplored place beyond the Kaal, beyond wastelands, as Valeria said. There were dragons in the old era, but even the old records never once mentioned anything beyond Kaal, that place has always been called the Forbidden Land."

  The world tilted beneath my feet. The vast land from my memories, has never been explored? Not even ono record? Such advancement in magic of these people must have given birth to magic that exists on our world. I have seen people riding dragons in battle like some cavalry soldiers. Those memories can’t be a lie. The pain from memories can be a lie. But…

  "What am I then?" The question clawed its way out, jagged and raw. "What’s left of me?"

  "You are Einar Emberheart, Vrakar of Aevadorn," she said, her voice steel beneath silk. "You are more than this world understands. More than even you know."

  I stared down at my hands, which had once commanded fire and fought alongside a woman who was now little more than a ghost in my dreams. "But I don't feel like him," I breathed, watching my fingers tremble. "I don't remember what it felt like to be him."

  Her hand found my shoulder, warm and steady. "You are still him, my son. Even if you don't remember, it's all still inside you. It always has been."

  The pain in my chest threatened to tear me apart. I don’t want to be someone else, I am happy with my life, with just cutting wood to earn a living. With my mother and my little sister. Quiet and happy.

  "What if I don’t want to be him? What if I don’t want to see her?" The words fell from my lips like broken glass.

  Mother's grip tightened on my shoulder. "I will never force you, dear. But can you hold yourself back? Can you say, you didn’t even have one thought about her?" Her voice carried a certainty I wished I could feel. "It's in your nature to love her. One way or the other, you will look for her."

  She is right about that. I am not certain about myself. Just thinking of her makes my heart melt. Will I be happy with that all my life? I really want to know about her, about us.

  I took a deep breath. “Mother, I—”

  “Shh. Let me finish.” She interrupted. "Whatever you choose to do, I will be there for you. But…" She took a deep breath. “Let me give you something that should rightfully be yours. Your magic. Let me unseal your essence.”

  Her words sent shivers down my spine. "Mother, such a powerful seal would take a heavy toll on you. You don’t have to do that."

  "I do," she cut me off, her voice silk over steel. "I have to, Einar. I’m stronger than you know. This... this was done... to give you time to grow, and now is that time..." Fear crept into her expression, aging her decades in moments. "Your essence carries one of the strongest magic sources. Old magic."

  "Old magic?" The words barely left my lips before the world began to shift beneath me.

  "It's the same magic that your race used. Our ancestors have also used old magic in the old era, when dragons were around. But Valeria feared with it comes darkness, the same darkness that consumed your origin. The same darkness that gives birth to the Nightmare of Ihera."

  My hands began to tremble, the words "darkness" reverberating in my skull like a battle cry from a long-lost war. The air seemed heavier, pressing against my chest until my breaths came in ragged gasps. The sound of my heartbeat surged in my ears, loud and insistent, like the pounding of war drums. Images flared behind my eyes, searing and relentless—the obsidian sword slicing through me, the bone-chilling stench of decay clinging to its wielder, and those eyes, amethyst pools of malice staring from the faceless helm.

  The earth buckled beneath my knees. I staggered, clutching at my chest, and the wound from my dreams—no, from my memories—tore open as if it had been waiting. I could feel the phantom blade ripping into my side, its cruel edges dragging molten fire through my veins. Blood dripped from my fingers, staining the earth in crimson crescents as my nails dug into trembling palms.

  The darkness came, not creeping but crashing, a tidal wave of pitch-black ink that devoured everything. I reached for Mother’s voice, but it sounded distant, muffled like a memory too fragile to hold. Her words fragmented, distorted, drowning in the storm: "Einar... safe... breathe..."

  But I wasn’t safe. I was back there, in the field of ash and death. The battle howled around me, though I could see nothing but those accursed amethyst eyes.

  "Did you really think you could save them?" The voice from the void was jagged, cutting like shards of glass. It echoed from all directions, impossible to pinpoint, sinking talons into my mind. "How pathetic. You, the great protector, the warrior with a heart of flame, crumpled like dry leaves under their blades."

  "I..." My throat tightened, choking on air. I couldn't speak, couldn't think. My legs buckled, and I collapsed to my knees, blood pooling beneath me. The phantom wound burned, every beat of my heart forcing more pain to the surface.

  "You failed, Einar," the darkness hissed, curling around me like a serpent. A figure emerged from the black—armor rotted and tarnished, the stench of death rolling off it in waves. The faceless helm tilted toward me, and those eyes burned brighter. "Your people. Your love. You couldn’t protect any of them."

  My lips moved, forming words I couldn't say.

  The figure leaned closer, its blade dragging across the void with a sound like bones splintering. "You died pathetically, bleeding into the dirt while your precious Valeria screamed for you. Screamed for the hero who wasn’t there."

  My chest tightened further, as if the shadows themselves were trying to suffocate me. My vision blurred, but the voice continued, relentless.

  "And now look at you. A vessel. Empty. Weak. You think you can hold magic? Lead? Protect?" The laugh that followed was a jagged edge, slicing through the fragile threads holding me together. "You are nothing. Just a failed memory, clawing at a world that forgot you."

  "No," I whispered, but the word crumbled under the weight of doubt. My fingers dug into the ground, trembling as the blood smeared across my palms seemed to sear into the earth.

  "Yes," the figure countered, its sword hovering inches from my chest. "Admit it. You know I’m right. You can’t even protect yourself, let alone them."

  Mother’s voice broke through the din, faint and flickering. "Einar... remember... I am here..." But even her words twisted in the dark. "A child who couldn’t bear his destiny... My son, broken..."

  The figure laughed. "See? Even she knows."

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  And then it came—a flicker of light, faint but unyielding, brushing against my skin like a whispered promise. Mother’s amulet. Its touch ignited a glow that cut through the shadows, and with it came another voice, softer, warmer, filled with an aching familiarity.

  "Einar." Her voice was a melody I hadn’t heard in centuries yet had never forgotten. "Focus on me."

  The figure recoiled slightly, its blade faltering. But the darkness still pressed in, wrapping around my throat, my chest, my heart.

  "You can't listen to her," it snarled. "She let you die. She let them all die."

  "That’s not true." Her voice rose, stronger now, weaving through the chaos like threads of starlight. "You fought. You gave everything. You are more than this shadow, more than this pain."

  The figure’s blade struck out, carving into my side. Pain erupted, but her voice anchored me. "I am here, Einar. Just follow my voice."

  Tears burned hot trails down my face. "I... I failed," I gasped. "I couldn’t save them. I couldn’t save you."

  "You haven’t failed," Valeria said, the warmth in her voice unyielding. "You are still here. You still have the chance to fight. To protect. To love."

  The darkness howled, the figure looming larger. "No! You’re nothing! You’ll fail again!"

  Her voice broke through like the dawn. "You are Einar Emberheart, Vrakar of Aevadorn. You are my soul bond. My love. My heart. And you will rise."

  Something shifted inside me—a spark, faint but persistent. My hands stopped trembling. The blood on my fingers seemed to burn with purpose. "I..." My breath came easier. The figure lashed out, but the amulet’s light flared, and Valeria’s voice roared with it.

  "You are not alone!"

  The darkness shrank back, the figure flickering like a dying flame. My body steadied, the pain in my chest dulling as strength returned.

  "You are mine," Valeria whispered, her voice softer now, filled with quiet defiance. "And I am yours. Always."

  The figure screamed, its form shattering into tendrils of black that dissolved into the void. The darkness retreated with a sound like rushing wind, leaving behind only the sharp clarity of moonlight and Mother’s trembling hands gripping my shoulders. Her touch steadied me, but my breath still came in shallow gasps, my chest heaving as though I’d been drowning and only now surfaced.

  I sagged into her arms, the weight of what had just happened pressing down like stones. "I remember..." My voice was barely audible, raw from the strain of shouting. My fingers tightened around the amulet between us, its cool surface a fragile anchor in the storm of my thoughts. "I remember her..."

  Mother’s grip softened, her palm brushing over the side of my face. Her gaze searched mine, fierce and tender. "She knew you better than anyone," she said quietly, her voice trembling with an emotion I couldn’t name. "She knew your soul." Her hand lingered over my heart, where I could still feel the fading echo of that terrible, consuming darkness. "Just as I know what you need now."

  I pulled back slightly, just enough to see her face. Determination burned behind her eyes, tempered by something older—grief, maybe. Or love. I couldn’t tell anymore. "Mother?" My voice shook, but I forced the word out, desperate for answers.

  "The seal." Her fingers moved to the spot above my heart, where ancient runes lay dormant beneath my skin. "It’s time, Einar. You need to reclaim what was always yours."

  The air around us grew colder, the wind stilling as if the world itself was holding its breath. I stared at her, fear coiling tight in my gut. "Mother, the last time I had this power..." The memories flashed through me: burning cities, dragons falling from the skies, rivers of shadow and blood, the obsidian blade sinking into my chest. My hand drifted to the phantom wound, still aching after all these years. "It destroyed everything. I destroyed everything."

  Her hands gripped my shoulders tighter, her fingers digging into my flesh. "You’re not alone this time." Her words carried the weight of unshakable conviction. "You have me, Alira, and her." She glanced at the amulet still clutched in my hand, its surface faintly glowing with some ancient, unspoken promise. "You were born with a drakon’s heart, Einar. Your own heart. And it’s time to awaken what lies within it."

  Terror surged alongside longing, the two warring in my chest like beasts fighting for control. My breath quickened. "What if it hurts you?" I asked, my voice cracking. "What if I can’t control it again? What if—"

  She smiled, soft and sad, though the shadows in her eyes betrayed her doubt. "I’ll be fine, dear." Her voice wavered, and under her breath, she whispered something that sent a chill through me: "Even I don’t know what will happen."

  The air thickened, charged with an electric tension that made my skin prickle. My magic stirred, faint but insistent, as if it had been waiting for this moment. There was no turning back.

  My hands shook as I nodded. "Do it."

  We knelt together on the damp earth, the scent of wet leaves and decay mixing with the metallic tang of magic in the air. Dead leaves crumbled beneath our knees, the night closing in around us. Even the stars seemed to dim, their light swallowed by the weight of what was coming.

  Mother’s hands framed my face, her touch cool against my fevered skin. "Close your eyes," she whispered, her voice low and melodic, as though speaking to the magic itself. "Remember who you were... and who you are."

  I obeyed, letting the darkness take me. Behind my closed lids, memories flickered and burned like dying embers, brief flashes of a life I couldn’t claim. The weight of armor pressing down on me. The deafening roar of dragons overhead. Her voice, soft and strong, calling my name in the chaos.

  Mother began to chant. The words weren’t human, weren’t mortal—they were older, resonating deep in my chest like the tolling of a bell. They carried the weight of the earth, the sky, and the stars themselves. With each syllable, the air around us shifted and warped, thick with power that hummed like a living thing.

  The rune on her chest ignited, blood-red light spilling through the cracks in her skin. The symbol—a trident, sharp and jagged—pulsed with a rhythm that matched the pounding of my heart. I felt it before I saw it: something massive stirring between us, ancient and restless, its presence brushing against my mind like the shadow of wings.

  Then, the power touched me.

  At first, it was gentle, a warmth blooming in my chest like the first light of dawn. It spread slowly, tendrils of heat winding through my veins, awakening something deep within me that had lain dormant for centuries. For a fleeting moment, it felt right. Whole.

  And then it turned.

  The warmth became fire, searing through me with an intensity that tore a scream from my throat. My back arched, every nerve alight with raw, unyielding power. Lightning, red as blood, crackled beneath my skin, spiraling through muscle and bone. I gasped, clutching at the ground as the storm raged within me.

  "Mother," I choked, but she didn’t stop. Her voice rose, fierce and unrelenting, as the magic built higher and higher.

  The power inside me surged, wild and uncontrollable, arcing outward in crimson bolts that scorched the earth around us. The old oak groaned as its branches caught the edge of my magic, splitting and splintering in the surge.

  "Mother!" I tried to warn her, but it was too late. A massive bolt struck her square in the chest, sending her reeling backward.

  She hit the ground hard, her body limp, the rune on her chest fractured and fading. For a moment, everything stopped.

  "Mother?" My voice cracked as I crawled toward her, my body trembling with residual energy. Sparks still danced across my skin, gentler now but no less dangerous. "Mother, please..."

  Her eyes fluttered open, weak but focused. "It’s... done," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You... are... ready."

  Tears burned hot trails down my cheeks as I gathered her in my arms, her body unnaturally cold. "I never wanted this," I said, my voice breaking. "Not if it meant this."

  Her hand found mine, her grip faint but steady. "Sometimes love... means letting go," she murmured, her lips curving into a faint smile. "And becoming... who you were always meant to be."

  Her eyes closed, her breathing shallow, but she still held on.

  The storm inside me calmed, the magic settling into my heart like an ember waiting to be stoked. But all I could feel was the cost, etched into my mother’s blood and the stillness of her form.

  ————————————————

  Each of Mother's breaths whispered like autumn leaves in the wind, precious and fleeting. Strange how we never truly understand the worth of a single breath until it threatens to be the last. Her form felt light as a child's in my arms - too light. My boots struck the earth in desperate rhythm as the cabin materialized through the mist, its weathered walls glowing faintly in the torchlight.

  "Brother?"

  Alira's voice pierced the darkness, thick with sleep but threading with worry. She emerged from the shadows like a spirit, her nightdress catching the dim light. The scent of sage and yarrow from her evening rituals still clung to her hair - herbs meant to ward off evil, yet powerless against the consequences of our own choices.

  "She's hurt." The words clawed their way from my throat. Mother's skin felt cold against mine as I laid her on the bed. My fingers fumbled through my satchel, scraping against herb pouches and dried roots until they found the flask. "Used too much magic. She... she did it for me."

  Alira was by my side in an instant, her voice dropping into a whisper, raw with shock. “For you?” She sounded bewildered, almost afraid to understand what that meant.

  But there wasn’t time for that. I bring the healing potion that I have bought from Eliza before, I tilted the flask to my mother’s lips, letting the green fluid slip down her throat in slow, measured sips. It smelled of rotten herbs and burnt tea, it was gooey which was common for lesser potions.

  Each breath she took seemed thinner, her chest barely rising. The healing potion could mend her body, but it wouldn’t restore the magic she’d burned away. She needed her energy back and quick, without it…

  My fingers dug into the rough wool of the mattress. Guilt churned in my gut like poison. I should have stopped her. Should have found another way. But isn't that the curse of power? We always believe we can control it, until the moment it controls us.

  “Will this help her?” Alira’s voice cut through my thoughts, trembling, desperate.

  "It'll heal her insides." I forced the words past the tightness in my throat. "But her magic... there's a limit. Push past it and..." Just like mother warned - magic isn't merely a tool to be wielded, but a force that flows through all things. Break its laws, and it breaks you in return. She pushed that limit, for me.

  Silence fell, thick and heavy, weighing down on us both. Alira’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she watched our mother, her gaze flickering to me with a mixture of confusion and dread.

  “Einar…” Alira’s voice was hesitant, barely more than a whisper. “Isn’t there something we can do? Anything?”

  I opened my mouth to respond, to say something that might ease her fear, but my thoughts were a tangled mess. And then an idea struck, desperate and uncertain but there, flickering like a weak flame. “We can try giving her energy, directly,” I muttered, more to myself than her.

  I placed my hand over Mother’s heart, feeling the faint, fragile beat beneath my palm. A thin stream of energy stirred inside me: foreign and wild, nothing like the gentle flow of human magic that mother have told about. I willed that energy to flow into her, to fill the emptiness where her energy should be.

  Alira watched, her face filled with awe and confusion. “Brother, you… you can’t use magic,” she stammered, disbelief thick in her voice. “How…?”

  “I can now.” The words came out sharper than I intended. “But it’s no good.” My jaw clenched as I struggled to push more power into her, feeling it slip through like sand through my fingers. “It’s not working.”

  Alira took a shaky step closer, her eyes wide. “Maybe…” She hesitated, choosing her words with care. “Maybe it’s because your magic is different. Maybe her body can’t accept it.”

  The truth of it hit me like a blow. Of course. My magic wasn’t… normal. It was different from others. My throat tightened, frustration gnawing at me. “Then what do I do?” My voice broke, harsh and raw, as helplessness clawed at me. “Tell me what to do.”

  Alira’s gaze lingered on Mother’s pale face, then her eyes hardened, determination sparking in them. “Let me try,” she said, stepping forward with a slight tremor in her voice. “I can give her energy from surrounding… maybe she’ll accept mine.”

  I turned to her, a flicker of hope mingling with the fear twisting in my gut. “You really think it’ll work?”

  She swallowed, uncertainty flashing in her eyes, but she nodded. “It’s our only chance.”

  I helped her position herself beside Mother, guiding her hands gently to Mother’s chest. “Just focus,” I whispered, feeling my heart pound against my ribs. “Pull energy from surroundings then Imagine it flowing into her… slowly.”

  Alira closed her eyes, her breath steady as she concentrated, her face pale and tense. The cabin was silent but for the crackling of the fire, each passing second stretching into eternity. I held my breath, watching, waiting, my heart suspended in that quiet, suffocating moment.

  Nothing happened at first. Mother’s chest remained still, her face as pale as ever. But then—a flicker. Her breathing grew deeper, a faint color returned to her cheeks. It was subtle, barely there, but it was enough.

  Alira gasped, swaying as the effort took its toll. She looked exhausted, her hands shaking as she pulled back, but she managed a weak smile. “I think… I think it’s helping.”

  I steadied her, relief flooding my veins as I watched Mother’s face, her breathing now steady, soft. When her eyes fluttered open, I couldn’t stop the tight breath that escaped my chest.

  “Mother…” My voice came out thick, hoarse, the weight of everything crashing over me. I knelt beside her, gripping her hand, feeling a wave of relief so deep it hurt. “I’m sorry,” I choked, guilt twisting in my stomach. “I shouldn’t have let this happen.”

  She gave me a weak smile, her hand trembling as she reached up to touch my face. “Don’t… don’t blame yourself,” she whispered, her words soft but firm. “You’re my son. I would do it all again for you.”

  Her words cut deep, bittersweet and warm, filling the hollow ache in my chest. I felt Alira’s hand on my shoulder, a silent presence beside me as I let the relief settle, my chest tight.

  “Rest now, Mother,” I murmured, my voice gentle. “We’ll take care of you.”

  As we left the room, Alira’s voice broke the silence. “Einar,” she said, her tone cautious but steady, “does this have to do with… you being able to use magic now? You never could before.”

  I hesitated, the weight of everything looming over me. “It’s related,” I answered, the words low, uncertain.

  Alira crossed her arms, giving me a sharp look softened by the exhaustion on her face. “There’s a lot I want to ask,” she admitted, her tone tinged with something between curiosity and worry. “But I’m too tired to get into it tonight. That took more out of me than I expected.”

  She let out a small, weary sigh, and her gaze drifted to the ground. “Something feels different inside,” she murmured, more to herself than to me, her voice trailing off.

  I managed a weak smile. “You should get some rest. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow.” The words felt hollow, knowing there was so much I didn’t understand myself. “Good night, Alira.”

  She gave a faint nod, turning toward her room with a final glance over her shoulder. “Good night, Brother.” And then she disappeared, leaving me alone in the quiet of the dimly lit hall.

  I stood before Mother's door, listening to the old timbers creak above. The drakon's heart beat within my chest, its rhythm a constant reminder of what I'd gained - and all I stood to lose. The price of power always comes due, one way or another.

  There was old saying in the world of magic, that magic is neither good nor evil - it simply magnifies what already lies within our hearts. What if my heart was evil, not like my mother told, not like Valerie told to my mother, but it knows.

  It beats within me once more with magic, with no restraints, but its rhythm is a reminder of all I had to lose, of all I have to protect. Again.

  I was foolish to think I can even protect someone ever again.

  ————————————————