In the South Mage Tower – Heir's Office~
She was furious.
Books exploded, scrolls caught fire, and crystals cracked around her. The room trembled with her rage.
Asher sighed, watching the destruction. "Come on, it's not my fault. Why are you trashing my things?"
Seraphina stood at the center of the chaos, fury blazing in her eyes, her hair whipping around as if caught in a storm. Her aura pulsed like Mother Earth herself.
"Fucking hell, Ash. Without you, no one could've broken my forgetting spell."
Asher stood by the window, his silhouette more prince than a mage, more sinner than a savior.
It was his room, yet he stood like a thief guarding his life. The violet shimmer of his aura slowly cast a protective shield against her fury. "Technically, babe," he said casually, "it's not my fault. Your conditions failed."
"The hell it happened!" she snapped, launching a green orb of blazing fire. It shattered his purple shield.
"Ten pure souls had to pray for my return," she spat. "That's impossible. No one even remembers my existence. And they had to be pure. Pure souls!"
His long fingers glinted with silver magic rings as he raised another shield, closing the distance. Sweat dripped from his forehead. Lavender tinged with rust, and the scent of sharp-sweet green apples curled around him.
Strengthening her spell, she shouted, "It was supposed to be permanent! That spell should have sealed everything—my magic, my soul, my affinity. I was not supposed to come back. I was not supposed to come back... My soul was supposed to vanish forever."
He dodged the next orb with grace. Arrogant confidence on her spell... she looks too damn sexy like this, he thought, swallowing hard as his Adam's apple rolled.
He saw the veiled pain behind her fury and let the next orb hit him.
"How can my soul return in time?" she demanded, trembling. "My magic never worked on you, so tell me—how did you break my spell, you bastard?"
"Babe," he said, raising an eyebrow, "you said 'ten pure souls', right? That includes the dead."
Her rage flared again. "Dead people don't wish, Asher! Who the hell couldn't let me go, even in death?!"
He lowered his voice. "Well… a lot of people…"
"Fucking names, you piece of shit!"
Orb after orb rained down.
Asher winced, rubbing the back of his neck. "Your mom's former head mage. Her last wish was to see you alive again. That alone cracked the first piece of the spell."
Silence.
Seraphina froze.
With that single name, her breath caught. Her rage drained.
She collapsed at the desk, her hair spilling like a curtain. Her hands trembled. Tears welled in her eyes. She clenched her fists to maintain control.
Her mother's laughter, the scent of rose tea, the old mage's warm hand on her shoulder—all of it returned, cutting her deeper than any blade. Her chest rose and fell with ragged breaths.
Asher moved toward her, his long legs closing the space. Gently, he trapped her with his tall frame, resting his hands on either side of her. He pressed his forehead to hers.
After a moment, Seraphina whispered through a choking voice, "Who else?"
Asher swallowed hard, "Your dad…"
Her eyes narrowed, fury returning, sharp and piercing, "My dad is a killer soul. Not a pure soul."
"Pure dark magic, Seraphina," he replied. "You loved him. He only ever wanted you to live."
There are two ways a soul can be pure: by growing lighter, or by embracing darkness so completely that it becomes whole again. Pure dark is still pure.
Had she missed that obvious loophole?
No. She just never believed her father's soul had turned that dark.
Asher added softly, "He wanted you to live his portion, too."
Wiping her tears, he murmured, "That day… You weren't the only one who wanted to die. He did, too. He lost the love of his life, Sera. He forgot how to breathe. He's alive, but he's already dead."
The truth shattered her walls.
For once, she saw her father not as a failed man but as a broken man who gave his last breath for her, even beyond death.
She burst into tears, hiding her face in Asher's chest. His arms wrapped around her tightly. He was her safe place.
He stroked her hair gently. "He only waited… because he promised her he'd be with you."
She went silent, her voice trembling. "Were parents… always like that?"
"Loved ones are like that," Asher said softly.
He looked out the window.
She knew Asher wasn't talking about her father anymore.
He was talking about himself.
Asher—her fiancé, the man who knew her too well. With him, she wasn't a void, a dark princess, a bringer of destruction. With him, she was a human a girl who could cry and laugh and still be whole.
And he never caged her. He let her fly even when it hurt him.
She gathered her courage. "So… the third soul must've been you?"
Asher looked away. For the first time, he had tried to bind her. To make her return.
"I… I just wanted you back," he whispered. "I can't live without you. So I did it. Selfishly. I'll take any punishment you give me… but for once, can you live?"
His voice trembled.
His purple hair shielded his eyes, and hers—those deep violet eyes—were hidden behind long lashes. His built body trembled with emotion. She was the only one who ever broke him.
She was his salvation.
Their noses touched. Eyes closed. He took a deep breath, his red lips trembling.
His shirt was half-open, revealing his toned chest and collarbone. The golden light from the window reflected off his earrings and hair.
Their breaths mingled.
Asher's gentle touch calmed her storm.
She looked at his lips, then at the line of his Adam's apple. Her breath hitched.
He knew.
He cupped her face and kissed her softly. His moon needed her sun.
One hand rubbed her cheek. The other slid to her waist.
He pulled her into his lap, her legs wrapping around him. Her arms tightened around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair.
It wasn't desired.
It was longing. Love. A desperate need to heal.
Two broken souls refilling each other.
To breathe.
To love.
To live.
One look—Goddess.
Another—God himself.
Balance. Freedom. Devotion.
He was her sun, and she was his moon.
He was her home, and she… she was his world.