Chapter 63

Chapter 63
The Manor was quiet.

Too quiet.

Emilia should’ve known that kind of silence never meant peace here. It meant something was holding its breath. Waiting. Coiling in the dark.

She rose from her seat beside Calista’s bed. The woman hadn’t moved since their earlier exchange. Her eyes had fluttered shut. Her face slackened. But something in her posture—tight hands curled under the blanket—told Emilia she was still alert.

Emilia reached for a fresh cloth, dipped it into the basin, and pressed it gently to Calista’s forehead. “You’re not safe here,” she whispered. “And I don’t think you ever will be.”

The next sound was soft.

Almost imperceptible.

A whisper of movement against wood.

Emilia straightened. Her eyes scanned the room.

Nothing.

Then the firelight flickered. A cold gust curled through the chamber.

Emilia stepped back just as a blur of movement lunged from the shadow behind the dressing screen—sharp, fast, and deadly.

Steel caught the light.

Seraphine.

She was dressed in black, her face carved in fury, lips curled back just enough to flash her fangs. A dagger flashed in her hand—silver, thin, meant for precision.

Emilia reacted on instinct.

A wave of heat exploded from her chest. The windows rattled. The candle flames swelled like small suns, bursting outward. The air itself trembled.

Seraphine staggered.

The dagger froze mid-air as if trapped in invisible ice. Her body jolted with the force of it, slammed backward into the wall behind her with a sickening crack. Her feet lifted an inch off the ground. She hissed—not in pain, but in rage.

Emilia stepped forward slowly, power pulsing in her veins. “You came to kill her in her sleep?”

“She deserves worse than sleep,” Seraphine snarled, struggling to move. “You saw what she did. You know what she is.”

“Then let her suffer by living,” Emilia said coldly.

Seraphine’s eyes narrowed. “You’re protecting her.”

“I’m protecting the child.”

Seraphine’s lip twitched. “That parasite inside her doesn’t absolve her.”

“I never said it did.”

The flames around the room returned to their normal size, flickering low again. Emilia’s hand slowly dropped, releasing Seraphine from the wall.

She landed on her feet with a grunt, her chest heaving.

Calista hadn’t opened her eyes. But her breathing had changed—shallow, careful, listening.

“You’ve lost your mind,” Seraphine spat. “You’d rather burn the Manor to ash than let her bleed for what she did?”

“She’s not strong enough to fight back.”

“She doesn’t need strength to poison everything again.”

Emilia didn’t blink. “And you think I’ll let her?”

They stared at each other for a long moment—sisters not by blood, but bound by pain and fire.

Then Seraphine turned away, almost shaking.

“She took him from me,” she said through gritted teeth. “She took my bond, my sense, my anchor. And now she’s back. With his child inside her. Do you even realize what that means?”

“I do,” Emilia said. “More than you know.”

Seraphine’s face contorted. Her hands trembled, and for once it wasn’t from fury alone. It was from grief.

Emilia lowered her voice. “You shouldn’t have come in here.”

“You shouldn’t have brought her back.”

“I didn’t do it for her.”

Seraphine shook her head slowly. “You always think you can carry it all. Fix everything. But this time, you’ve pulled the wrong thread. When it unravels, it’s going to take you with it.”

And then, just like that, she was gone.

Not a dramatic exit.

Not a loud curse or slammed door.

She shifted.

Her body folded in on itself, bones cracking in eerie rhythm. Wings unfurled. Black and leathery. She took the form of a bat and soared through the window in a blink, the firelight catching the edge of her vanishing form like a flash of polished obsidian.

Emilia stood still, the echo of her warning ringing in her ears.

\---

Minutes later, Vivienne appeared in the doorway, breathless and wide-eyed.

“You felt it, didn’t you?” she said, already knowing the answer. “The flare of power?”

“She tried to kill her,” Emilia said flatly.

Vivienne closed her eyes for a moment. “I was afraid she would.”

“She almost succeeded.”

“She hasn’t been this unhinged in decades,” Vivienne murmured, stepping into the room and eyeing Calista’s still form. “The last time...”

Emilia turned. “When?”

Vivienne swallowed hard. “The last time she was provoked like this was when Calista tampered with the blood ties. She betrayed all of us. The Elders were furious, but it was Seraphine who took it the hardest.”

“She was exiled then.”

Vivienne nodded. “For over thirty years, Seraphine disappeared into the heart of the Sanctuary. Not even Luca could bring her back. She took the form of a bat and slept in the deepest part of the Sanctuary. ”

“Do you think she’ll do it again?” Emilia asked.

Vivienne’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I think she already has.”

Emilia closed her eyes, guilt crawling up her spine.

“She said I’d regret it,” she murmured.

Vivienne reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “She doesn’t hate you, Emilia. But she’s outraged. Her rage is the only language she uses to express the pain she feels”

Emilia lowered her eyes, a wave of guilt and pity for Seraphine washed over her but she knew that Calista's baby was worth fighting for. She had seen it briefly in small trances and visions. Her child, Calista’s child.

“She won’t come back soon, will she?”

“No. If she’s gone to the Sanctuary again... we won’t see her for decades. Maybe longer.”

A sick heaviness settled in Emilia’s stomach.

She’d lost Seraphine.

For now, maybe forever.

\---

Later that night, Emilia sat alone in the Manor’s library, wrapped in an old blanket, the fire long gone cold.

She couldn’t shake the memory of Seraphine’s voice. The crack of bones. The gleam of fury in her eyes.

She thought of Cyrus too—how silent he’d been since they returned. He hadn't come to see Calista. Hadn’t said a word abouthher pregnancy.

He knew.

And still, he vanished into his chambers, unreachable.

Emilia didn’t blame him.

But the weight of everything was beginning to crush her.

Seraphine gone.

Vivienne worried.

Cyrus withdrawn.

Luca distant, like a ghost with no tether.

And in the center of it all, there was Calista. Quiet. Alive. Carrying something that could either end them or reconcile them.

Emilia closed her eyes and whispered to no one:

“Please… don’t make me choose between them again.”