Seraphina didn't move.
The mirror's surface rippled faintly like a disturbed pond, but her reflection stayed in place—bleeding from the eyes, mouthing the word again.
"Run."
From what?
Her heart pounded. The chapel seemed smaller than before, the air heavy with wax and something colder—older. The candle flames didn't flicker, didn't move at all, as if held in place by something unseen.
Lucien had told her this mirror was a gate.
But now… it felt like a prison.
A scream built in her chest, but she swallowed it down.
"I'm not running," she whispered.
The reflection blinked for the first time.
And then—it changed.
The bleeding woman became a child.
No older than ten.
Wide gray eyes. Black hair. A silver birthmark beneath her left ear.
Seraphina staggered back.
She remembered that child.
She had been that child.
The day she wandered into the basement of her father's estate… the day she found the silver-tipped mirror no one else could see.
The day her mother dragged her out, weeping, whispering, "You've heard it too. Just like me."
That memory had been buried. Lost beneath years of noble schooling, tea parties, and debut balls.
But the mirror remembered.
All of it.
A chill swept through the chapel.
The candles finally flickered—then blew out.
All at once.
The room dropped into silence so thick it rang in her ears.
And in the darkness, the mirror began to hum.
Not words.
A tune.
Seraphina knew it.
A lullaby her mother used to sing.
"Ashes to ash, rose to thorn…Sleep until the vow is sworn…"
The melody wrapped around her like smoke.
She stumbled toward the door, fumbled it open, and burst into the corridor, gasping for air.
She didn't realize she was crying until she collided with Lucien.
He caught her. Held her steady.
"What happened?" he demanded.
"The mirror—" she gasped. "It showed me… myself. As a child. It knew things I'd forgotten."
Lucien's eyes narrowed. "The curse is pulling deeper. It's reaching into you."
"I remembered a song," she said. "Something my mother sang. I thought it was just a lullaby. But now I think it was a warning."
Lucien's expression darkened. "Do you remember the words?"
She nodded, voice soft.
"Ashes to ash, rose to thorn…Sleep until the vow is sworn."
Lucien exhaled slowly. "That's not a lullaby. That's a blood rite."
Back in the library, Lucien opened a forbidden ledger.
Seraphina sat across from him, her hair damp with sweat, her fingers trembling.
"There's an ancient practice," he said. "Rare. Forbidden by the imperial blood courts. It's called vow-sleeping—where a soul binds itself to an unfinished promise. It can keep someone alive. Or… bring them back."
She stared. "You're saying I did this to myself?"
Lucien nodded. "You made a vow. And you tied your soul to Nightspire to protect it. That vow was never completed. So now, every time your body dies, your soul returns—to finish it."
"Then why am I remembering now?"
He shut the book and met her gaze. "Because this time, something else is trying to finish it for you."
That night, she returned to her room to find the mirror already uncovered.
This time, it showed nothing at all.
Just darkness.
But written in fog on the glass was a single sentence:
"He lied. You burned for him, and he let you die."
Seraphina's chest tightened.
She stepped back, heart hammering.
She remembered the fire. The pain. The tower collapsing.
And Lucien—her Lucien—kneeling in the smoke.
Begging her to stay.
But what if that memory had been warped?
What if it wasn't a plea?
What if it was a command?
At dawn, Seraphina stood in the greenhouse where the fireflowers bloomed unnaturally bright.
Lucien joined her silently, hands in his coat pockets.
"You said I died protecting Nightspire," she said.
"Yes."
"But the mirror says you let me."
Lucien looked at her then.
And for the first time—he didn't deny it.
"I didn't stop you," he said. "That's the truth."
"Why?"
He stepped closer. "Because you were already fading. You were fire. And I was stone. I thought if I tried to hold you, I would extinguish you."
She stared at him.
Tears burned behind her eyes.
"You let me burn."
"I watched the world end," he said hoarsely. "Because I thought you would rise again. I didn't know the price."
Seraphina turned away.
But before she could take a step—
He reached for her hand.
And for the first time in any of her lives, he didn't pull away.
.................
There were truths she couldn't face before.But this time, Seraphina would burn on her own terms.And she would make the curse answer for it.