I had to survive.
For him.For the promise.
For the legacy that refused to die in me.
When the sobs finally ebbed, a fragile resolve rose in their place, like the first flicker of dawn against a storm-wrecked sky.Despite the regrets that clung to me like burrs, I forced myself to breathe, to move.
“Let’s go back to my childhood home,” I whispered to Roman, trying to infuse my voice with hope.“Maybe… maybe it’s still standing.”
The journey there was one of ghosts.Every step echoed with memories—my mother’s laughter, the gentle hum of her voice as she spoke of the Noctyss flower, of the alchemy we were meant to perfect together.Those halls had once been filled with light and purpose.Now, I walked toward them as a stranger.
But the house that greeted me was not the sanctuary of my youth.
Another family’s laughter rang from within, soft and foreign, replacing the silence that once belonged to us.The walls were intact, the garden overgrown, but nothing remained of what was once mine.
I knocked, hesitant, each rap of my knuckles a plea for something I could never reclaim.
A maid answered, her eyes scanning me—disheveled, worn, clad in strange attire with a babe in my arms.Her gaze had no recognition, no flicker of understanding—just polite confusion.
“I’m sorry, miss,” she said gently.“But you can’t stay here.”
The door closed.
And with it, the last tangible piece of my past.
I stood motionless momentarily, the weight of the loss pressing down like a stone.Then I turned, staggering through the dimly lit streets, Roman’s cries slicing through the night air.Each wail was a lash against my soul—a reminder of the ruin I had brought upon us.
My father’s world was gone.
His once-vibrant society—now dust and echoes.
Because of me.
Because of Salvatore.His betrayal, the murder of my father, stained my soul like ink spilled across a page, a mark that could never be washed away.
“Shh, my sweet boy,” I whispered, cradling Roman close, my words trembling and feeble.I rocked him gently, my shoulders shaking with exhaustion and fear.“What will we do?”
The question lingered in the night air, unanswered, suspended like a fragile thread in a world that no longer made sense.We wandered beneath the streetlamps, their flickering glow illuminating a city that had once been my home—and now held nothing but shadows.
My feet, driven by instinct and the ache of memory, carried me down a familiar path.The cobblestones led me to the remnants of a life that now felt like it belonged to someone else.
Amir’s townhouse loomed ahead—silent, a ghost of what it had once been.I remembered it alive with warmth, with laughter that spilled into the night air, and with love that wrapped around me like a cloak.Now, the windows were dark, the light inside long gone, and I stood outside a place I could no longer enter.
The iron gate groaned beneath my touch as I pushed it open.I climbed the stone steps, my body trembling beneath the weight of my son, of my grief, of the shattered pieces of my heart.
There, I sat—clutching Roman tightly to my chest, his small body the only light left in the darkness.
“I promised you the world,” I whispered, tears cascading freely, each one a testament to broken dreams.“But I’ve failed you.No money.No family.No home.What kind of mother am I?”
Roman clung to me, his tiny hands gripping my dress, his whimpers echoing the sorrow that consumed me.
The night deepened, the wind biting as it swept through the empty streets.I shivered, pressing my face into Roman’s hair, mourning all we had lost.
Then, something stirred.Wisps of black smoke curled through the air, twisting around us and coalescing into a familiar form.My breath caught in my throat, and my heart stalled.
Strong arms enveloped me.The scent of cedar and leather filled my senses, wrapping around me like a dream I never dared to believe in again.
I gasped, my heart slamming against my ribs.Slowly, I lifted my head.
