"Mother."
I heard a soft, calm voice calling out to me. Slowly, I opened my eyes to see who it was—but all I saw was darkness.
I was lying on a cold, hard floor. I pushed myself up and blinked, trying to adjust my vision.
Where am I? That was the only thought echoing in my mind.
"Mother."
The voice called again. I lifted my head and saw a young boy smiling at me—jet-black hair and ruby-red eyes that shimmered in the darkness.
Dane… I whispered his name.
But he didn't respond. He simply stood there, silent.
I tried to stand, but then I noticed a tall figure beside him.
He had the same features as Dane.
Is that… him?
"You are my only son," the man said with a firm, emotionless tone. "Whatever you experienced before I met you must be forgotten. It will only make you weak."
That's not true! I wanted to scream. I wanted to fight those words. But no sound came out of my mouth.
Dane just nodded… and followed the man.
Dane! My heart screamed, but my body wouldn't move. I couldn't run after him. I couldn't even call out.
No! Not my Dane! Please!
I reached out, but they were already too far—slipping away into the dark.
Then the scene changed.
A new vision appeared before me—one I knew too well.
A crowd had gathered in front of a small stage. But it wasn't for a performance. It was an execution.
A man knelt beneath a guillotine, bruised and bloodied, his hands bound behind his back.
His face, once bright and full of life, was now twisted in despair and resignation.
It was Dane.
One of the knights positioned his head beneath the blade.
No. This isn't supposed to happen!
I wanted to run to him, to throw myself between him and the blade. To wake up from this nightmare.
"Begin the punishment!"
A guard raised his axe and sliced through the rope.
No!
"No!" I gasped, bolting upright. My eyes opened to an unfamiliar ceiling. My chest rose and fell rapidly, my forehead drenched in sweat.
I looked around in a panic.
Dane wasn't there.
I pushed myself out of bed despite the throbbing pain at my side. Dizziness washed over me, but I didn't care.
"Dane!"
I stumbled to the door and flung it open.
This place… it wasn't a hospital. The hallway was lined with ornate furniture and tall windows that let in the morning sun.
"Dane?" I called again, fear tightening in my chest. I felt like I was drowning.
Then, I heard it.
"Mother?"
Just one word—but it was enough to calm every storm inside me.
I turned.
And there he was.
"Dane!" I ran to him and pulled him into a tight embrace.
"Mother?" he asked, sounding confused.
"I'm alright," I whispered, my voice trembling. "Just a nightmare… that's all."
"Then you need more rest," a deep, cold voice said behind me, sending a shiver down my spine.
I looked up slowly.
And there he stood—the man responsible for the darkness surrounding Dane's life.
The Duke of Vismar.
Duke Darwin von Vente.