The mirror cracked.
Not with sound, but with silence.
A deep, resonant hush fell over the twisted palace as jagged lines spread across its surface like veins filled with black ink. Seraphine stared into it, her reflection no longer her own.
The woman in the mirror bore her face—but her eyes were wrong. Hollow pits of starlight. Her lips curled into a smile that did not belong to her.
And beside her stood Aeloria.
No longer a child.
No longer merely a voice from within the womb.
She was whole now.
Tall.
Crowned in thorns.
Draped in robes stitched from shadow and bone.
"You gave me life," she whispered, though her lips did not move.
"Now you must give me everything else."
Seraphine staggered back.
"No."
Aeloria tilted her head.
"You still don't understand."
She stepped forward, placing a hand on Seraphine's chest.
"I was never yours."
"You didn't birth me."
"You summoned me."
Seraphine gasped.
Her mind reeled.
"I didn't know what I was doing," she whispered. "I was dying. I made a desperate wish."
Aeloria smiled gently.
"That's exactly why it worked."
***
Memories surfaced—raw and unfiltered.
A battlefield bathed in crimson twilight.
Seraphine, younger, kneeling beside a fallen king.
Blood soaked her armor. Death clung to her skin.
She had been dying too.
Pierced through the heart, lungs collapsing, darkness closing in.
And then—
A whisper.
Not from the wind.
Not from the gods.
From something older.
Something hungry.
"Live," it had said.
"But pay the price."
Seraphine had begged for survival.
For another chance.
For power.
And something had answered.
It had reached into the deepest part of her—the place where mothers dream of children they have not yet conceived—and planted a seed.
Aeloria.
Not born.
Summoned.
Bound to flesh not out of love, but necessity.
A sacrifice made without knowing what was being taken.
Seraphine fell to her knees.
"No," she sobbed. "I didn't mean to."
Aeloria knelt beside her, brushing a strand of hair from her mother's face.
"Intent doesn't matter," she said softly.
"Only results."
Seraphine looked up at her.
"What am I?"
Aeloria studied her carefully.
"You are the vessel."
"The gate."
"The cradle of the Devouring Spirit."
Seraphine swallowed hard.
"And what does that make you?"
Aeloria's smile widened.
"I am what waits beneath the world."
"What stirs when fear takes root."
"I am the hunger that cannot be fed."
"I am what comes after birth."
Seraphine closed her eyes.
"You're not my daughter."
Aeloria laughed—a soft, cruel sound.
"Oh, Mother."
"I'm more than that."
"I'm your curse."
***
The palace around them began to dissolve.
Walls of bone melted into mist. Chandeliers flickered and vanished. The floor beneath them cracked open, revealing endless void below.
Seraphine felt herself falling—not physically, but spiritually.
She landed in a place she had never seen before.
A vast chamber lined with mirrors, each one reflecting different versions of herself.
In one, she was still a girl reading forbidden texts in the royal archives.
In another, she lay dead, her chest torn open, her womb empty.
In yet another, she sat upon a throne built from the bones of women who had failed to escape their children.
Aeloria stood beside her, watching.
"This is where it truly began," she murmured.
Seraphine turned sharply.
"Where what began?"
Aeloria gestured toward the mirrors.
"The cycle."
"The Devouring Child."
"The end of birth as you knew it."
Seraphine's breath caught.
"You've done this before."
Aeloria nodded slowly.
"Many times."
"Each time, a queen makes a deal."
"Each time, a mother fails to protect herself."
"Each time, I grow stronger."
Seraphine shook her head.
"No. This can't be real."
Aeloria stepped closer.
"Why do you think the Crimson Council feared you?"
"They knew what I was before you even understood what you'd done."
Seraphine pressed a trembling hand to her belly.
Inside, the pressure had changed.
Aeloria was no longer feeding.
She was preparing.
Seraphine whispered, "What happens when you're ready?"
Aeloria's expression darkened.
"I will be born."
"And you will die."
Seraphine flinched.
"That's not true."
Aeloria tilted her head.
"Then tell me, Mother."
"If I am not your child… why do you carry me?"
Seraphine had no answer.
Because deep down, she already knew.
She had not given birth to Aeloria.
She had awakened her.
And now, there was no turning back.
***
Back in the waking world, Lady Nyxara watched helplessly as Seraphine convulsed on the altar.
Her body glowed faintly red beneath her skin, pulsing in rhythm with something unseen.
Nyxara turned to the Heart of the First Vampire, which trembled violently in its chains.
It could sense it too.
The shift.
The change.
The final act.
She whispered a prayer under her breath—not to any god, but to the spirits of unborn daughters and forgotten mothers.
"Please," she murmured. "Let her win."
Behind her, the Wombstone pulsed once.
Faint.
Weak.
As if mourning what was about to happen.
***
In the Abyss, Aeloria placed both hands on Seraphine's shoulders.
"You wanted to understand me."
"Now you do."
Seraphine met her gaze, tears streaking her face.
"I thought I was saving myself."
Aeloria's smile was almost kind.
"You were."
"Just not for yourself."
Seraphine's breath hitched.
"What do you mean?"
Aeloria leaned in close.
"You gave me life so you could live."
"But you never asked what I would become."
Seraphine swallowed hard.
"What are you?"
Aeloria's eyes gleamed.
"I am the thing that waits in the dark."
"The hunger that cannot be sated."
"The spirit bound to the womb of the world."
"I am the Devouring Child."
"And I was never meant to be born."
Seraphine shivered.
"Then why are you here?"
Aeloria smiled.
"Because you called me."
Seraphine shook her head.
"No."
Aeloria tilted her head.
"Yes."
"You begged for another chance."
"You made a pact with the void."
"And I answered."
Seraphine closed her eyes.
"I didn't know."
Aeloria stepped back.
"Knowing doesn't change what's done."
Seraphine opened her eyes.
"They'll try to stop you."
Aeloria laughed.
"Let them come."
"They will kneel or burn."
Seraphine's voice broke.
"I won't let you destroy the world."
Aeloria's smile faded.
"Then you will die trying."
***
The palace shattered around them.
They were no longer in the Abyss.
They were inside Seraphine herself.
Aeloria stood atop a great platform of flesh and bone, overlooking an ocean of blood.
Seraphine floated before her, suspended in the air like a marionette with broken strings.
"This is the last battle," Aeloria whispered.
"One of us leaves this place."
Seraphine gritted her teeth.
"I won't let you take me."
Aeloria tilted her head.
"You already did."
Seraphine clenched her fists.
"I may have summoned you," she admitted. "But I can still end you."
Aeloria's smile returned.
"Try."