Alika’s POVThe manor was no longer standing.What used to be a fortress of curses, rituals, and whispered names behind locked doors was now just stone, dirt, and ash. Some walls still stood in pieces, blackened by fire and rain, but the rest had collapsed into themselves. The iron gates were gone. The blood trees had withered. Even the fog had lifted. And yet, the air here remembered everything.I stopped at what used to be the front door. The ground cracked beneath my boots. Chunks of altar stone were scattered across the great hall, now open to the sky. Crows circled overhead, indifferent.I didn’t come back looking for ghosts. I didn’t expect to see him again. That part of me—hope—had been buried long ago.I came to say goodbye. Finally. Fully.The bundle of white lilies in my hand felt cold, even through the cloth. I carried them from the village myself. Walked the whole road. I didn’t take the car. I needed the silence.The flowers weren’t for Ethan.They were for the part of my
Alika’s POVI stared out the window for hours, hoping something would change. The sun did rise, its rays landing warmly on the glass, but the light felt hollow—like a stage lamp trying to pretend it could bring warmth. In this house, night never really left. Its shadow lived in every corner, between dusty photo frames, inside the creaking floorboards, and most deeply... inside my chest.Ethan was gone. I didn’t know if what I saw last time was truly him, or just the echo of someone who once loved me. After everything, all that’s left is an empty space between the beats of my heart.Last night I slept with the lights on. Not because I was scared—I passed that phase years ago—but because I couldn’t stand the voices that came when I closed my eyes. They didn’t scream. They whispered. And somehow, that was worse."Alika...""It's time...""He’s still with you..."I sat at the edge of the bed, my hand over my flat stomach. There were no signs of life there, but the voice in my dream wouldn
Alika’s POVThe mornings here were quieter than they should be. Sometimes, the silence stretched so long I had to open the windows just to make sure the world hadn’t disappeared entirely. No birdsong, no passing cars. Only the gentle breath of the lake outside and the ticking of the old clock I found in the attic. I lived alone now, in a modest cottage by the lake, miles away from any town. People said I looked young for someone who had been through so much. They didn’t ask what I’d been through. It was better that way.I didn’t tell them about Ethan.I didn’t tell them about Blackwell Manor.I didn’t tell them about the night the world broke and stitched itself back together in silence.The newspapers had no record of the manor ever existing. Maps erased the forest that once surrounded it. Even the villagers who used to speak in whispers about the Blackwells now looked at me with polite confusion when I brought up the name. History
Alika’s POVI should’ve forgotten him.I should’ve forgotten everything—the manor, the blood-stained veil, the promises whispered through broken mirrors. That was the cost. That was the deal.But as the purple fire devoured him, and his voice said, “My love is stronger than fate”, I felt something burn into the deepest part of me. Not pain. Not grief. Something else. Something forbidden to remain.When I opened my eyes, I was standing in an open field.There was no Blackwell Manor behind me. Just a stretch of green hills under a cloudless sky. The altar, the gate, the spirits—all gone like a fever dream. My dress was no longer soaked in blood. It was a plain white sundress, soft and dry against my legs. My hands were clean. No sigils. No cuts. No Ethan.I turned around once. Twice.Nothing.No one.I walked.I don’t know how long. Hours? Days?I reached a small town. It
Ethan’s POVI knew my time was up when that violet light split the sky and the altar cracked beneath our feet.Alika stood at the edge of the blood circle, her gown torn, face bloodied and streaked with ash. But her eyes—God—those eyes were still alive. And I knew I’d never see them again without breaking everything I’d ever known about love and sacrifice.“I can do this on my own,” she said, voice cracking. “You don’t have to—”“That’s not the point,” I said, stepping toward her even as every step felt like it was tearing something loose inside me. “It has to end. And I’m the only one who can stop it from within.”She grabbed my hand—tight, like she could anchor me here long enough to make me change my mind.But I’d known for a long time. Since that night on the stone bridge. Since my blood started to boil and Sybilla appeared in the mirror with that smile full of hate. This curse wasn’t just a chain. It was a pit pulling down every soul we ever loved.“I’m not letting you do this al
Alika’s POVI opened my eyes to a darkness that didn’t surprise me. The spirit world. But this time, it was different.The sky above had no color. Just gray. Like ashes that never got a chance to settle. The ground under my feet was cold and damp like a tombstone that had just been laid. I smelled rotting flowers, and I heard footsteps—slow, synchronized, deliberate.I stood in the middle of a long aisle. On both sides of me were rows of figures dressed in silver burial robes. They didn’t speak. They didn’t move. But they were all staring at me.My dress… wasn’t mine. It was black. Heavy. It dragged behind me and clung to my arms like a shroud. At the center of my chest, a silver brooch shaped like a skull-rose—Sybilla’s symbol. I tried to rip it off. My fingers broke skin, but the brooch didn’t budge. It clung like it was a part of me.At the far end of the aisle stood a blood-red altar, built from rough stone. There were two stairways leading up to it, like a stage. And standing at