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163
Still in the room where the mirror had shattered, it is silent except for the soft scratch of parchment against stone. Dust floats in the golden afternoon light slanting through the arched window, slicing the air like thin blades. Bianca doesn’t notice the chill crawling across her skin. Her fingers are buried deep in the pile of old scrolls sprawled out across the marble floor of Lumina’s private study.

She had already gone through the bookshelves, torn through drawers that hadn’t been opened in years, even lifted the corner of the ancient rug covering the stone floor—but nothing felt useful until now.

Her hand pauses over an older scroll, different from the rest. It isn’t sealed, just loosely rolled and tied with a frayed red string. The parchment is brittle, the edges browned with age, but when she unrolls it, her heart skips.

It's an old scroll their coven used to discern things unseen... She draws magical signs on it with her finger dipped in animal blood.

One name appears a second later.

Arwan.

Written over and over again.

Some of the letters trail off, others bleed into one another. Some are so violently pressed into the parchment, the feathered quill had torn through the fibers. Bianca stares at it for a long time, her breath catching in her throat.

Arwan.

She hears the door creak open behind her. Doesn’t need to look to know it’s Lumina. The sound of her footsteps is always precise, measured, yet there’s something off today—slower, heavier.

“I felt something shift,” Lumina murmurs from the doorway, her voice low but strained.

Bianca stands and slowly turns, scroll still clutched in her hands. “You might want to sit for this.”

Lumina doesn’t. She crosses the room and peers at the parchment. Her face doesn’t change, not immediately, but Bianca watches her lips go pale.

The ink is unmistakable. Witches don’t use red unless it’s personal. Blood magic, grief magic, or revenge. This—this was obsession.

“Who wrote this?” Lumina asks tightly.

Bianca exhales. “Melissa. I found the memory scroll we used long ago...this was written after Arwan died.”

Lumina stills. Her voice is barely above a whisper. “Why would Melissa…?”

“She’s his mother.”

That sentence feels like a bomb detonating between them. Lumina stares at Bianca, eyes wide. Her hand instinctively reaches for the scroll, but she pulls back at the last second like touching it would burn.

“She was vengeful for killing her son and her husband.”

Lumina’s breath is shaky. “But Arwan—he tried to destroy everything.”

“He wanted revenge,” Bianca says quietly. “Because Theon's father killed his.”

The room goes silent again.

The dots start connecting like poisoned stars in Lumina’s mind. Marco—Theon's uncle who was said to be ruthless and was obsessed with the Lycan blood, he almost sacrificed Theon to make Arwan have the Lycan blood.

Arwan was Marco’s son.

And Melissa… Melissa was Marco’s wife.

The betrayal tastes rotten in Lumina’s mouth.

“So Arwan wasn’t acting alone,” she murmurs, more to herself than Bianca. “It wasn’t just vengeance... It was legacy.”

Bianca nods. “And if Melissa’s been close all this while... watching... waiting... She must’ve done something to your child.”

A cold weight settles in Lumina’s stomach. Her legs feel like they’ll give out beneath her, but she forces herself to stand straight. Her child. The fever. The mirror’s shattered vision. The fire. The blood.

She whispers, “The crying baby.”

Bianca looks up sharply. “What?”

“In the vision... before the mirror shattered,” Lumina says, voice tight. “There was a woman in black, fire, blood... and a baby crying. I thought it was a warning of something to come. But what if it’s already happening?”

Bianca swallows hard. “You think Melissa cursed the baby?”

“I don’t know. But something’s blocking every spell I’ve cast. Bianca, you’ve seen it. I’ve tried everything. We can't even sense his aura anymore.”

Bianca glances down at the scroll again, as if it might provide answers. “Melissa is not a witch to pull off something so dangerous"

“No... anyone with determination can do the blood and soul ritual Bianca, as long as you have vengeance in your soul, it will devour you and curse the person you wish.” Lumina mutters. “But it depends on the source.”

She grips the edge of the nearby table, her knuckles turning white. “Why now? Why wait until after Arwan is dead?”

Bianca hesitates before answering. “Because you killed him.”

She couldn't say anything.

The weight of that truth hangs between them. Lumina looks down, her lips pressed into a hard line. She remembers the battle. The flames. Arwan’s scream when her spell tore through him. It was justice. It was necessary. But it doesn’t make this easier to swallow.

Lumina straightens again, face blank but her eyes glassy. “She must’ve used something tied to him—Arwan’s blood, hair, maybe even his ashes. If she crafted a curse with his essence… it wouldn’t just be magic. It would be vengeance that lives. And since I was once spiritually connected to Arwan, she used that hole to connect to the children ”

Bianca says nothing.

They both know what that means. This isn’t just a fever. This isn’t something time will fix.

“This is bigger than we thought,” Lumina finally says. “This wasn’t about punishing me. It’s about punishing everything I built.”

Bianca crosses her arms. “And she’s doing it through the baby.”

The silence that follows feels suffocating. Lumina’s chest rises and falls faster. Her mind races through everything—every missed sign, every strange shift in energy since the birth. The lack of connection, the clouded readings, the shadows in the corner of her spells.

“I should’ve seen it,” she whispers.

“You couldn’t have,” Bianca says gently. “it's a blood binding ritual"

“And she picked the one thing I would never question,” Lumina mutters. “The child.”

The pain of it hits like a wave.

Bianca’s voice is quiet. “What now?”

Lumina closes her eyes. “We find her. We find Melissa. And we tear her apart spell by spell.”

Bianca doesn’t argue.

She just nods.

But before either of them can move, the mirror—shattered and forgotten in the corner flickers. A faint glow hums through its fractured pieces just enough to be noticed. The shards vibrate slightly, like something is trying to speak again.

Bianca freezes. “Did you see that?”

Lumina turns. Her heart lurches. She walks toward the broken frame, careful not to step on the glass. She kneels. One of the shards flashes red for a second—faint but unmistakable.

"We should head back now" Bianca suggests.