Chapter 39 The First Three Years
Young Sera was six months old when she first walked between worlds.
I was holding her in the garden, the same garden where I would die in two and a half years, when she suddenly went completely still in my arms. Her storm grey eyes glazed over, and silver light began to pulse from her tiny body.
“Mora!” I screamed. “Something is wrong!”
But before the healer could reach us, Selene appeared, moving faster than should have been possible.
“She is not sick,” Selene said, her own eyes swirling with void and silver. “She is travelling. Her consciousness just slipped between worlds.”
“At six months old?” I held young Sera tighter, terror flooding through me. “How is that possible?”
“Because she is stronger than I was. More powerful. The Shadow Queen's abilities are manifesting earlier than they should.” Selene placed her hand on the baby’s forehead. “I can feel her. She is in the space between life and death. Wandering. Confused. I need to guide her back.”
“Do it. Please.”
Selene closed her eyes, and void light swirled around both her and young Sera. Through my bond with Selene, I felt her consciousness reaching out, finding the baby’s presence in that strange space between realities.
“Come back, little one,” Selene whispered. “Come back to us. You are not ready for this journey yet. You need to grow first. Learn first. Be ready first.”
Young Sera’s eyes suddenly focused. She looked at Selene and giggled, reaching for her aunt’s face with chubby baby hands.
The silver light faded. She was back. Completely normal except for the lingering sense of vast power barely contained in such a small form.
“She thought it was a game,” Selene said, her voice shaking. “She did not understand the danger. Did not realise she could get lost between worlds and never find her way back.”
“Can we stop it from happening again?”
“No. This is who she is. What she is. We can teach her to control it, but we cannot suppress it.” Selene looked at me with desperate eyes. “Mother, she is so powerful. More powerful than I ever was. And she has no understanding of what that means.”
“Then we teach her. Starting now.”
From that day forward, young Sera’s education began.
Not formal lessons. She was too young for that. But controlled exposure. Supervised practice. Learning to understand her abilities through play and exploration rather than fear and suppression.
Selene spent hours with her every day, teaching her niece the basics of Shadow Queen power through games and songs.
“Close your eyes,” Selene would say, holding young Sera in her lap. “Can you feel the space between heartbeats? The little gap where nothing exists?”
Young Sera would scrunch up her face in concentration, then squeal with delight when she felt it. That tiny moment between one heartbeat and the next where reality paused.
“Good! Now stay on this side of it. Do not slip through. Just feel it. Know it is there.”
It was like teaching a child not to touch a hot stove. Except the stove was the barrier between life and death, and touching it meant potentially getting lost in the void forever.
At one year old, young Sera spoke her first word.
Not “mama” or “dada” like most children.
“Shadow.”
She was looking at Selene when she said it, pointing at the void swirling in her aunt’s eyes. Recognising the parasite that lived within her.
“Yes,” Selene said, smiling through tears. “Shadow. That is my friend. He lives inside me.”
“Friend,” young Sera repeated, testing the word.
The parasite stirred, and for the first time in years, it took partial control of Selene to speak directly.
“Hello, little Shadow Queen,” it said in its ancient voice. “I am honoured to meet you properly.”
Young Sera tilted her head, studying the void with infant curiosity rather than fear. Then she reached out and patted Selene’s cheek.
“Nice Shadow,” she declared.
Through the bonds, I felt everyone’s shock. A one-year-old had just blessed a ten-thousand-year-old parasite as “nice.”
And somehow, impossibly, the parasite seemed pleased by this.
“She has good instincts,” it said before receding. “She knows I mean her no harm. That I will protect her as I protected Selene.”
At eighteen months, young Sera had her first nightmare about the Void Lords.
She woke screaming, her power exploding outward in waves that shook the entire castle. Marcus and Elena rushed to her room, but she was inconsolable.
“Dark,” she sobbed. “Dark things. Want Sera. Want inside.”
“It was just a dream,” Elena soothed, holding her daughter close.
But through my bond with Selene, I felt the truth. It was not just a dream. It was contact. The Void Lords are reaching across the barriers, trying to touch young Sera’s mind. Trying to establish a connection while she was vulnerable in sleep.
“We need wards,” I said urgently. “In her room. On her mind. Something to block them from reaching her.”
Mora worked with Elder Thaddeus and Selene to create magical protections. Symbols carved into the walls of young Sera’s nursery. Crystals were placed at the four corners of her crib. Incantations woven into lullabies that Elena sang each night.
The nightmares decreased but never fully stopped. Once every few weeks, young Sera would wake crying about “dark things” and “hungry voices.”
Each time, we reinforced the wards. Made them stronger. But we all knew the truth.
The Void Lords were testing her defences. Probing for weaknesses. Learning about her even as we tried to protect her from them.
At two years old, young Sera asked her first impossible question.
“Why do people die?”
We were in the garden again. She was playing with blocks, building towers and knocking them down with toddler delight. I was watching her, treasuring these moments. I had less than a year left.
The question came out of nowhere, spoken with the casual tone children used for everything.
“What do you mean, sweetheart?” I asked carefully.
“Uncle Thaddeus is very old. Mora says he will die soon. Where does he go when he dies?”
Through the bond, I felt Selene’s attention snap to us. This was a crucial moment. How we answered would shape young Sera’s understanding of life and death. It would shape her relationship with the power she carried.
“When people die,” I said slowly, choosing each word carefully, “their bodies stop working. But the part that makes them who they are, their soul, goes somewhere else.”
“Where?”
“We do not know exactly. Some people call it the afterlife. Some call it the space between. But it is somewhere beyond this world. Somewhere we cannot see until it is our time to go there too.”
Young Sera considered this, her stormy grey eyes thoughtful. “Can Shadow Queens go there? Can they see the dead people?”
My heart stopped. She had just articulated the core of her power. The ability that made her valuable to the Void Lords.
“Yes,” I said honestly. “Shadow Queens can walk between the world of the living and the world of the dead. Can see both. Can move between them.”
“Is that bad?”
“It is not bad or good. It is just what you can do. Like how some people can run fast. Some people can sing beautifully. You can walk between worlds.” I pulled her into my lap. “But with that power comes responsibility. You have to be very careful. Very wise. Because the space between worlds is dangerous. There are things there that want to use you. Hurt you.”
“Like the dark things in my dreams?”
“Yes. Exactly like that.”
She was quiet for a long moment. Then: “Will you be a dead person soon, Grandma?”
The question hit like a physical blow. How did she know? Had she seen it in a vision? Felt it through Shadow Queen's power?
“Yes,” I said, my voice breaking. “In less than a year. My body is getting old and tired. Soon it will be time for me to go to the space between.”
“Can I visit you there? When I am bigger and better at walking between?”
Tears streamed down my face. “I do not know, sweetheart. I hope so. I really hope so.”
“I will try,” she declared with absolute certainty. “When I am six. I will practice and get good at it and then I will visit Grandma in the space between and tell her about all my adventures.”
Through the bonds, I felt Kael’s grief. Felt Selene’s wonder. Felt Marcus’s terror at his daughter casually discussing visiting the dead.
But I also felt hope. Because young Sera was not afraid of death. Not afraid of the space between. She saw it as just another place. Another realm to explore.
That lack of fear might save her. Or doom her. Time would tell.
At two and a half years old, young Sera manifested her first physical transformation.
She was angry about something trivial, a toy Marcus had taken away. Her tantrum escalated rapidly, and suddenly silver light exploded from her body.
When it faded, she was not a toddler anymore.
She looked five years old. Still clearly young Sera, but older. More developed. Her body had aged five years in five seconds.
“Sera!” Elena screamed. “What did you do?”
Young Sera looked down at her suddenly larger hands and started crying. “I am big! I do not want to be big! I want to be small!”
Selene appeared immediately, her Shadow Queen senses having felt the transformation.
“Breathe,” she said calmly, kneeling in front of her niece. “You can change back. You just have to want it. Picture yourself small again. Picture being two years old.”
Young Sera squeezed her eyes shut, concentrating with all her might.
Silver light flashed again.
And she was back to being a toddler, crying in confusion and fear.
“What just happened?” Marcus demanded.
“Shadow Queens can manipulate their own physical form,” Selene explained. “Age themselves up or down. I could do it too, though I rarely did. The gods used it to age me rapidly during my servitude.” She looked at young Sera seriously. “You have to be very careful with this ability. If you age yourself too far, you cannot come back. And if you de-age too much, you lose the memories and skills you gained.”
“I did not mean to,” young Sera sobbed. “I was just angry and it happened.”
“I know. But you need to learn control. Emotions cannot trigger your powers. You have to be in command always.” Selene’s voice was gentle but firm. “This is important, little one. Your powers are stronger than mine ever were. If you lose control, people could get hurt. You could get hurt.”
From that day forward, emotional control became part of young Sera’s training. Learning to feel anger without lashing out. Sadness without imploding. Joy without exploding.
It was hard work for a toddler. Most two-year-olds were allowed to have tantrums. Young Sera had to learn to manage emotions that would challenge adults.
But she tried. Every day, she tried.
At three years old, young Sera said goodbye to me for the last time.
I was in bed, my body finally giving out. Mora had done everything she could, but age and accumulated exhaustion were claiming me. I had perhaps days left. Maybe only hours.
Young Sera was brought to my bedside. She looked at me with those stormy grey eyes, so much older than three years old, and smiled.
“Hi, Grandma,” she said cheerfully. “Are you going to the space between now?”
“Yes, sweetheart. Very soon.”
“Are you scared?”
“A little. But mostly I am ready. I am tired. My body is tired.”
She climbed onto the bed beside me, cuddling against my side like she had done countless times.
“I will miss you,” she said simply. “But I will visit. I promised. When I am six and better at walking between, I will find you and tell you everything.”
“I will be waiting,” I promised. “And little one? When the dark things come, when they try to make you let them in, remember something for me.”
“What?”
“You always have a choice. Always. No matter what they say, no matter what they promise, you can always choose differently. That is your greatest power. Not walking between worlds. Not transforming. Not any of the magic. Your greatest power is the ability to choose.”
She nodded solemnly. “I will remember, Grandma. I promise.”
I held her close, memorising the feel of her small body against mine. Memorising her scent, her warmth, her presence.
This was the last time I would hold my granddaughter in the physical world.
But through the veil, I would watch. Would wait. Would be ready.
When her time came, when she faced the Void Lords at sixteen, I would be there.
Not in body. But in spirit. In strength. In love that transcended death itself.
“I love you,” I whispered. “So much. Never forget that.”
“I love you too, Grandma,” she said. Then, with the brutal honesty of a three-year-old: “Can I go play now? Mama said I could only visit for a little bit.”
I laughed, the sound turning into a cough. “Yes. Go play. Be a child while you can. The grown-up problems will still be there when you are older.”
She kissed my cheek and scrambled off the bed, running out to where Elena waited.
And I lay there, listening to her laughter fade down the hallway.
Treasuring it. Holding it. Knowing it would sustain me through whatever came next.
The mark on my palm pulsed one final time.
Three days remaining.
Then I would move beyond. Would take my place in the space between. Would prepare for the day young Sera would need me most.
Through the bonds, I felt Kael’s presence. Felt Selene’s grief. Felt Marcus’s love.
My family. Beautiful and strong and ready.
Ready to protect the child who would save or doom the world.
Ready to fight battles I would not see.
Ready to finish what we had started.
I closed my eyes and smiled.
Death was not the end.
It was just the next phase of protection.
And I was ready.
The countdown continued.
Thirteen years until young Sera faced the Void Lords.
Thirteen years to grow. To learn. To become strong enough.
The clock was ticking.
But for now, in this moment, she was just a three-year-old playing in the garden.
Innocent. Powerful. Beloved.
And somewhere in the space between worlds, I would be watching over her.
Forever.
Always.
Until the day she needed me most.
Then I would be ready.
The vision from her birth flashed through my mind one last time.
Young Sera at sixteen. Standing at a crossroads. The Void Lords are offering power.
And my presence beside her. Whispering. Guiding.
Helping her choose.
Yes.
I was ready.
Let death come.
The real work was just beginning.