The golden light didn’t fade; it simply wrapped around me, like a warm mantle that stole the breath from my lungs.

  And when I blinked, I was no longer in the sanctuary.

  I knew it immediately.

  This wasn’t Seravenn as I knew it.

  Not the immense, polished city that stands today.

  This was… something smaller.

  Something young.

  An outline of a future.

  The houses were made of pale stone, freshly carved.

  Walls still unfinished.

  Plazas without altars.

  Flowers growing in wild disorder, as if the world itself hadn’t decided its shape yet.

  “Is… this Seravenn?”

  The question pierced through me before I could stop it.

  And then I saw her.

  Ariane.

  Not floating like a Mother.

  Not glowing.

  Not surrounded by temples in her honor.

  Just walking among the people—

  as a woman of the village who knew every path, every tree, every breath of her home.

  She looked around forty-something… even though she had lived more than a century.

  Primordial magic pulsed under her skin like a golden thread.

  It didn’t make her look young.

  It made her look eternal.

  The inhabitants greeted her with soft, human respect.

  The kind given to a protector, a teacher, a quiet pillar holding up the world.

  —Wise Ariane… —a woman murmured with a small bow.

  —Is the earth calm today? —an elder asked.

  —Thank you for returning —whispered a child who ran past her.

  Ariane smiled at them all.

  Not the radiant smile of a symbol.

  The tired, warm smile of someone who listens more than she speaks.

  I… didn’t know what to think.

  Or feel.

  Or say.

  Ariane was the founder of Seravenn.

  A Mother.

  A legend.

  And no one in my time speaks of her like this.

  No one tells it this way.

  No one remembers her as a person.

  Seeing her here… walking through the first stones of the country I now call home…

  felt like peeking behind the world’s curtain.

  Like I had been staring at incomplete paintings all my life.

  Ariane followed a narrow path at the edge of the settlement.

  She didn’t walk like someone in a hurry.

  She walked like someone who already knew she was being called.

  I followed her steps, drifting behind her like a memory clinging to her shadow.

  And I couldn’t help it: I wanted to see more.

  To understand her.

  She stopped by a young oak tree, resting her hand against the trunk.

  A faint tremor—not physical but emotional—vibrated beneath her palm.

  She tilted her head, as if listening to a secret not yet ready to be spoken.

  —The earth breathes uneasy —she murmured.

  The wind carried her words down to the roots.

  It wasn’t combat magic.

  Or altar magic.

  It was… primordial magic.

  The kind a Mother wields when she treats emotion as a sister.

  I had to bite my tongue not to speak.

  Not to ask her everything.

  Not to cry for standing in front of someone who had shaped the world I walk in.

  But this vision wasn’t for me.

  It was a memory.

  And I could only follow.

  Ariane moved past the settlement’s edge, toward where the ground trembled with a faint, almost dying pulse.

  There were no signs of violence yet.

  No chaos.

  No Dominus.

  Just a quiet unease.

  A soft one.

  Like a heart beginning to fail.

  And although I didn’t know what Ariane was about to find…

  I knew whatever it was

  was going to hurt.

  Ariane kept walking and a house could be seen in the distance I assumed it was her’s.

  Ariane’s house didn’t look like a Mother’s home.

  It wasn’t a temple, or a grand residence, or anything solemn.

  It was simply a warm, lived-in stone house, no different from any other family’s dwelling in the settlement.

  As soon as she stepped inside, I heard a cheerful voice:

  —Mother.

  The woman who came from the kitchen had flour on her hands and her hair tied back.

  I didn’t know who she was… but the vision carried a particular warmth, an emotional thread I understood without needing words:

  she was the youngest of Ariane’s daughters.

  Ariane welcomed her with an embrace full of tenderness—

  the kind of hug one gives to the lastborn of the family.

  —I’m glad to see you, daughter —Ariane said softly.

  The woman stepped back to look at her better.

  —Some of the girls from the temple came by today —she said—. They mentioned the ground felt uneasy early in the morning. I thought it might just be the weather.

  Ariane smiled with that warm, patient ease that already felt familiar to me.

  —I only went to listen for a while —she replied.

  The house was full of simple details: baskets of cloth, dried flowers, freshly washed plates…

  And then I saw a portrait on the wall.

  A dark-haired man had his arms around Ariane’s waist, both of them laughing.

  A domestic kind of love—real, lived, and warm.

  —The children asked for you —her daughter continued—. They left more drawings. Kaelen insists on painting you with a sun behind you.

  Ariane held one of the papers to her chest, proud and amused.

  Ariane had grandchildren.

  Mother Hope… was a grandmother.

  —The older ones are with their father in the fields —her daughter added—. They’ll be back by dusk. I told them you’d come.

  Ariane caressed her daughter’s cheek with a tenderness that felt overwhelmingly human.

  —I’ll stay for a while. But I have to leave again later.

  —You always say you’ll rest more —the daughter sighed.

  —It’s hard to rest when there’s still so much to do.

  The light of the vision trembled.

  Ariane noticed it.

  So did I.

  —Mother… —the daughter said quietly, concern creeping in.

  —Go be with the children —Ariane told her gently—. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be back before sundown.

  Her daughter hugged her again, this time with a faint tremble she couldn’t explain.

  When she finally left, the house fell into a soft, familiar silence.

  And I understood something I had never considered:

  The Mothers didn’t only build civilizations.

  They built families.

  They loved, raised, lost, laughed, lived.

  Ariane was not just history.

  She was a woman who had lived a full life.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  And whatever was about to break…

  was going to shatter something far greater than the world.

  …And then Ariane stopped.

  It wasn’t a graceful or ceremonial pause.

  It was a human halt.

  A sudden shock of realization.

  Her fingers tightened around the staff.

  And the word that left her lips—Asentia—wasn’t spoken with solemnity.

  It was spoken with fear.

  The air stopped moving.

  The light of the vision flickered.

  I had never seen a Mother afraid.

  Not like this.

  Not in a way so painfully… human.

  Ariane looked back.

  Not toward the horizon.

  Toward her house.

  Toward her daughter.

  Toward the drawings her grandchildren had left on the wall.

  Her jaw tensed.

  —No… —she whispered—.

  Not here.

  I felt the weight of those two words.

  Felt how the emotion around us tightened like a fist.

  Because it wasn’t just that an Asentia existed.

  It wasn’t just that she was breaking.

  It was that she was near her family.

  Near her blood.

  Near her people.

  Near the heart of Seravenn before Seravenn even existed.

  My chest clenched as Ariane stepped off the path, trembling for the first time in the entire vision.

  —I can’t allow… —she breathed, barely audible—

  her to cross the threshold here.

  The “threshold.”

  The exact point where an Asentia stops being a woman…

  and becomes a Dominus.

  Ariane knew it.

  She had seen it before.

  She understood the danger better than anyone.

  The despair in her voice didn’t come from duty or destiny.

  It came from something far simpler, far more devastating:

  the terror of a mother afraid to lose her own.

  Ariane gripped her staff and quickened her pace.

  —If I find her now… I can still bring her back.

  I knew she couldn’t.

  The vision knew she couldn’t.

  But Ariane believed.

  And that was why Hope belonged to her.

  As she walked through the fields, the ominous sensation thickened; it was no longer just an emotional imbalance—

  It was the presence of an emotion that was coming undone.

  Another broken whisper drifted on the wind:

  —I… don’t… know… who I am…

  Ariane closed her eyes.

  And this time, not to listen to the earth.

  But to gather the courage she needed.

  —I won’t let you fall —she said, almost pleading.

  And she moved toward the place where the vision began to darken.

  The vision darkened around the clearing.

  The emotion in the air vibrated as if someone were stretching a thought until it tore.

  Ariane stepped forward.

  Then again.

  She wasn’t breathing fast, but her chest rose and fell with restrained tension.

  And I felt the same thing I had felt when Yareen appeared for the first time—

  a void that didn’t pull, but pushed, distorting the world around it.

  Ariane stopped.

  —She’s an… Asentia —she whispered, and for the first time, I heard fear in her voice.

  She glanced back—toward her house, toward the door her daughter had just closed, toward the portrait of her husband, toward the drawings of her grandchildren.

  —Not here… —she said, voice trembling.

  That “not here” broke something inside me.

  It was a plea from a mother, not a Mother.

  Ariane quickened her steps.

  I followed behind, trapped in her shadow, feeling the world’s emotion unravel.

  We reached a clearing.

  And she was there.

  A young woman.

  Kneeling.

  Hunched forward, fingers digging into dry earth as if trying to hold onto something that no longer existed.

  No blood.

  No wounds.

  But her emotion was broken.

  Frayed.

  Like a thread someone had pulled too far.

  —Ariane… —whispered a voice that didn’t come from her mouth, but from the emotional rupture around her.

  Ariane pressed a hand to her chest.

  Not from pain—

  from recognition.

  —Oh, sweetheart… —she murmured, her voice trembling—. What happened to you?

  The young woman lifted her head.

  Her eyes were empty.

  Not dead.

  Not corrupted.

  Just… absent.

  —I don’t… —she struggled—

  know who I am…

  Ariane knelt in front of her.

  Not afraid for herself.

  Only afraid for what might happen if she didn’t act now.

  —Look at me —she said softly—. You’re still here. I can help you. Tell me your name…

  The girl opened her mouth, but her own emotion split through her like a spasm.

  An invisible pulse distorted the air, forcing Ariane to pull back slightly.

  —I… can’t… —the girl whispered—.

  I can’t find the path…

  Ariane trembled.

  —Give me your hand —she pleaded—. Come back with me. Just breathe…

  The girl recoiled with a harsher spasm.

  —Don’t come closer… —she choked—.

  Before I become…

  The word died before forming.

  Ariane closed her eyes for a single second.

  Just one.

  But in that second, I saw her entire life—

  her daughters, her grandchildren, her lost love, the villages she raised, the girls she soothed, the wars she prevented, the cries she carried.

  And I knew this decision would break her forever.

  She opened her eyes.

  Hope shone in them… for the last time.

  She stepped forward.

  The air tightened.

  The world held its breath.

  The young woman didn’t move.

  She was waiting.

  Ariane lifted her hand.

  And then something happened that I didn’t expect not from her anywas.

  Ariane charge some magic in her fist and with force she pierced the girl’s chest, just in the place where the heart is.

  blood spurt from the wound and I felt how Ariane not just stopped her heart it also broke some kind of invisible strings, then she took out something within her.

  it was some kind of sphere, it was just the size of her palm.

  Ariane just closed her hand and it shattered

  When it was done, golden light wrapped around the young woman one last time.

  Her expression softened.

  The distortion in the air dissolved.

  The void unraveled.

  Ariane collapsed to her knees.

  Not as a legendary figure.

  As a woman who had just lost someone she tried to save with everything she was.

  —I’m sorry… —she whispered.

  The entire clearing seemed to tremble with her.

  And the last emotion that came from the young woman, barely an echo, sounded like a fragile whisper:

  —Thank you…

  The vision exploded into white.

  The white light vanished all at once.

  I came back to the sanctuary with a sharp inhale, my hands burning with the echo of Ariane’s magic.

  Velka stood rigid as stone, eyes wide open, breathing hard.

  Neyra’s jaw was clenched, no trembling, no fear—only controlled tension.

  None of us spoke.

  Yareen.

  Asentia.

  Dominus.

  The images still clung to my mind like ash.

  Nerys stepped closer.

  —You saw what you needed to see.

  I nodded without lifting my eyes from the floor.

  —What Ariane pulled out of that girl —I said—. That sphere.

  What is it?

  Nerys didn’t hesitate.

  —The emotional core —she said—.

  A magical girl’s second heart.

  Velka’s brow tightened.

  —Second heart?

  No one ever told us that.

  —You didn’t know —Nerys replied—.

  No generation after the first knew.

  Only the originals.

  Neyra crossed her arms.

  —So we have one too?

  —All of you —Nerys confirmed—.

  Since the first awakening.

  That sphere holds your magic, your life, your emotion.

  It’s what allows you to exist halfway between the human world and the primordial one.

  My jaw clenched.

  —Good.

  Then where is Yareen’s?

  Nerys met my gaze without blinking.

  —In her chest.

  Vibrating.

  Fracturing.

  Neyra didn’t flinch.

  —Say it clearly —she ordered—.

  What do we do with it?

  Nerys exhaled.

  —You destroy it.

  Velka nodded immediately, as if she had been waiting to hear those words.

  —Perfect.

  There was no shaking.

  No doubt.

  Velka had been ready to kill Yareen from the moment she touched Mahtani.

  Nerys continued:

  —If the sphere remains intact, Yareen will survive even if her body falls.

  The sphere will rebuild her.

  Sustain her.

  Twist her.

  I tightened my fist.

  —Then we kill her.

  Nerys took a deep breath.

  —It’s not just killing her, Lyssandra.

  You must destroy the second heart.

  Without the sphere, a magical girl cannot return.

  Ever.

  —Good —I answered instantly.

  Velka took a step forward.

  —You’re telling us the only way to end her for good is to break that thing.

  Correct?

  —Correct.

  Neyra spoke with the coldest voice of all:

  —Then we have our objective.

  Just tell us where it is exactly.

  Nerys lowered her gaze briefly, maybe from the hardness she saw in us.

  But we showed no pity.

  No hesitation.

  She looked up again.

  —In the center of her chest —she said—.

  Right behind the sternum.

  At the height of her broken emotion.

  I breathed slowly.

  No guilt.

  No doubt.

  Only what needed to be done.

  —The next time we see her —I said—

  we destroy the sphere.

  Velka smiled with feral satisfaction.

  Neyra nodded with military precision.

  And Nerys, with an ancient sadness in her eyes, added:

  —Do it before it’s too late.

  Because if Yareen crosses that threshold…

  not even death will stop her.

  Deep beneath the city —where light never reached, where even dust dared not move— Yareen sat on a slab of stone.

  Her severed arm still dripped dark, sluggish magic.

  She didn’t cry.

  She didn’t grit her teeth.

  She didn’t tremble.

  She simply stared at the wall in front of her, as if she expected the stone to speak back.

  The shadows around her shook, not because of wind, but because her emotions had begun to disobey form.

  A young woman in a black robe knelt beside her.

  Saanah.

  Her devotee.

  Her trembling, feverish worshiper.

  —Master Yareen… —she whispered, voice shaking with reverence—.

  We’ve done what we can to slow the bleeding.

  Yareen didn’t answer.

  Didn’t even look at her.

  Saanah swallowed hard.

  —I bring news.

  Yareen’s empty gaze shifted slightly, like an animal hearing something.

  —The magical girl you fought… the one called Mahtani…

  she survived.

  Yareen blinked.

  Once.

  Slowly.

  Saanah continued, trembling harder:

  —The other magical girl… the healer… Ahlia… helped her.

  Stabilized her.

  Both of them are alive.

  The silence cracked like glass.

  The emotion that burst from Yareen had no shape.

  Not human, not magical, not sane.

  A wound turned into a soundless scream.

  Her head tilted forward.

  Then she exploded.

  —HOW DARE SHE?! —her voice struck the stone—.

  That wretched… meddling trash… that foul little parasite…!

  Saanah bowed her head, terrified.

  Yareen kept going, spitting pure venom:

  —That prying bitch!

  —That useless whore!

  —That sanctimonious little saint-slut!

  Every word became a warped emotional shockwave that made the air vibrate.

  —She ruined my birth… —Yareen rasped, a voice no longer human—.

  My revelation.

  The ground trembled.

  Yareen lifted what remained of her arm, staring at the stump as if it were a map.

  —Tell me where she is.

  Saanah pulled out a trembling scrap of parchment.

  —They’re moving her to a provisional safehouse… near the upper gardens.

  Mahtani is unconscious.

  Ahlia as well.

  Yareen smiled.

  A broken smile.

  Twisted.

  Starving.

  —Perfect.

  She stepped forward.

  Her body moved as if it didn’t belong to this plane.

  Even her shadow refused to follow her.

  Saanah dared to ask:

  —Master…? What will you do?

  Yareen didn’t answer.

  She just walked toward the tunnel’s exit, dragging darkness behind her like a decaying veil.

  At the end of the passage, she stopped.

  Turned her head slightly, letting a sand-drenched braid hide half her face.

  —I’m going after her.

  The healer.

  Her voice fractured into a venomous whisper:

  —And I’ll tear out her second heart with my own hands.

  Then she vanished into the shadows.

  The air fell silent.

  The hunt had begun.