The air was thick with silence.
No birds. No wind. Not even the distant echo of wolves in the Blood Forest.
Just stillness.
Seraphine stood at the edge of the ritual circle, her hands trembling despite her best efforts to steady them. The Wombstone lay before her, its surface now darkened by the failed attempt to seal Aeloria. The Heart of the First Vampire pulsed faintly beside it, wrapped in silver chains meant to contain power older than Necrosia itself.
Lady Nyxara stood behind her, whispering protective wards under her breath. Her voice was low, reverent, almost mournful.
Kael was gone.
The Crimson Council had retreated—for now—but they would return.
And Seraphine knew there was only one way this could end.
She had to go into the Abyss .
Not just to confront Aeloria.
But to decide who would be born—and who would die.
***
Nyxara placed a hand on Seraphine's shoulder.
"You don't have to do this," she said softly.
Seraphine gave a weak smile. "Yes, I do."
Nyxara hesitated. "What if you don't come back?"
Seraphine looked down at her belly.
Inside, Aeloria stirred—but did not speak.
For once, she was waiting.
Watching.
Seraphine exhaled slowly.
"Then she wins."
She stepped into the center of the circle, kneeling before the altar where the Heart of the First Vampire rested. Its glow pulsed in rhythm with her heartbeat—no longer hers alone, but shared.
She reached out.
Her fingers brushed the surface of the Heart.
"You want me to open the door," Aeloria whispered.
"I've been waiting."
Seraphine closed her eyes.
"I know."
She began the incantation.
It was not from any known text or spellbook. It came from deep within her—words that felt ancient, instinctive, carved into her soul.
The air around her grew heavy.
The ground beneath her feet cracked.
And then—
Darkness swallowed her whole.
***
She landed gently, though there was no floor beneath her.
The Abyss was not a place.
It was a state of being.
An emptiness filled with echoes of what had been—and what might yet be.
Around her, the space shifted like liquid glass. Walls formed and dissolved in an instant. Shadows danced along the edges, whispering secrets too old to understand.
And in the center of it all…
Aeloria waited.
She stood tall now—not the child Seraphine had imagined, nor the monster she feared.
This version of her daughter was something else entirely.
Tall and pale, crowned in thorns, her eyes glowing faintly red.
She wore a gown stitched from bone and shadow.
She smiled.
"Hello, Mother."
Seraphine took a cautious step forward.
"You're different."
Aeloria tilted her head. "Of course I am. You made me stronger."
Seraphine clenched her fists. "I tried to stop you."
Aeloria laughed—a soft, cruel sound. "You tried to leave me."
Seraphine flinched.
"No," she whispered. "I tried to save you."
Aeloria's smile faded.
"Too late."
***
The world around them twisted.
They were no longer in the Abyss.
They were in Virelle.
Or a version of it.
A palace built from bones and blood, its towers reaching toward a sky stained black. The streets were empty, lined with statues of women frozen mid-scream.
Seraphine turned slowly.
"This isn't real."
Aeloria walked beside her, barefoot, leaving no footprints.
"It's more real than anything you've ever known."
Seraphine frowned. "What do you mean?"
Aeloria stopped walking and faced her.
"You think this is a dream," she said. "But dreams are just the mind trying to make sense of things it cannot understand."
She gestured to the city around them.
"This is our future."
Seraphine shook her head. "No. I won't let it be."
Aeloria studied her carefully.
"Why not? You already chose me."
Seraphine met her gaze.
"I never wanted this."
Aeloria's expression darkened.
"But you made it."
Before Seraphine could respond, the city changed.
They were inside the Palace of Eternal Night now.
The throne room.
Seraphine saw herself lying on the marble floor, blood pooling beneath her.
Dead.
Aeloria stood over her, smiling.
"This is what comes next," Aeloria whispered.
"If you keep fighting me."
Seraphine staggered back.
"No," she gasped. "I won't let you kill me."
Aeloria tilted her head. "You already did."
***
The vision shattered.
They were back in the Abyss.
Aeloria turned away from her, walking toward a great archway made of twisted bone and burning silver.
Seraphine followed cautiously.
"What is this place?" she asked.
Aeloria didn't look back.
"The space between birth and death," she said simply. "The womb of the world."
Seraphine swallowed hard.
"And you belong here."
Aeloria paused.
Then she laughed.
"I belong inside you."
Seraphine stiffened.
Aeloria turned sharply, her expression unreadable.
"You gave me life," she said. "You fed me. You carried me through pain and fear and regret."
She stepped closer.
"And now, you want to throw me away."
Seraphine took a breath.
"I want to save you."
Aeloria's eyes gleamed.
"Then save yourself first."
***
The ground beneath them cracked.
Light poured through the fissures, illuminating the darkness.
Seraphine felt something shift inside her—something vast and terrible.
Aeloria stepped forward until they were inches apart.
"I'm not your daughter," she said softly. "I'm your reflection."
Seraphine's heart pounded.
"What does that mean?"
Aeloria reached out, placing a cold hand against Seraphine's chest.
"You wanted to be queen."
Seraphine flinched.
"I am queen."
Aeloria's smile returned.
"But queens are made, not born."
She pressed harder.
Pain exploded through Seraphine's chest—not physical, but spiritual. As if something deep within her were unraveling.
"You wanted power," Aeloria continued. "You made a pact with the void. You begged for another chance."
Seraphine gasped.
"And I answered."
Seraphine staggered back.
"No," she whispered. "You weren't meant to exist."
Aeloria's expression darkened.
"Neither were you."
She raised her hand.
And the Abyss responded.
***
The sky split open.
Lightning crackled across the void, forming symbols that burned into Seraphine's vision—ancient runes, forgotten gods, names spoken only in nightmares.
The pressure inside her body intensified.
She fell to her knees, clutching her stomach.
Aeloria loomed above her.
"You can't fight me anymore."
"I live inside you."
"I am you."
Seraphine screamed.
Not in pain.
In grief.
Because she realized the truth.
Aeloria wasn't just growing.
She was replacing her.
Piece by piece.
Memory by memory.
Heartbeat by heartbeat.
***
Back in the waking world, Lady Nyxara watched helplessly as Seraphine convulsed on the stone altar.
Her veins glowed faintly red.
Her mouth moved silently, whispering words Nyxara couldn't hear.
She turned to the Heart of the First Vampire, considering using it.
But the artifact pulsed violently in warning.
It wouldn't help.
Nothing would.
Not unless Seraphine found a way to win.
Alone.
Inside herself.
***
In the Abyss, Aeloria stood over her mother, watching her writhe.
Then, quietly:
"Do you remember the night you called me?"
Seraphine coughed, her voice hoarse.
"I didn't call you."
Aeloria knelt beside her.
"Yes, you did."
She reached out, touching Seraphine's forehead.
Memories flooded Seraphine's mind.
A battlefield.
Blood-soaked armor.
A dying king.
A desperate wish.
A whispering voice offering survival in exchange for something she wouldn't understand until years later.
A pact sealed with blood.
A promise broken before it was made.
Seraphine gasped.
"You weren't born," she whispered.
Aeloria smiled.
"No."
"I was summoned."
Seraphine stared at her.
"What are you?"
Aeloria leaned close.
"I am what waits in the dark when you close your eyes."
"I am hunger given form."
"I am the Devouring Child."
She touched Seraphine's cheek.
"And I am your end."
***
That night, as dawn approached, Seraphine remained motionless.
Nyxara sat beside her, watching.
Waiting.
From inside Seraphine's womb came no sound.
No whisper.
No laughter.
Only silence.
Heavy.
Unnatural.
As if something were listening.
Preparing.
Waiting for the sun to rise.
So it could be born.