"I hate you, Ashen!"
Lumina’s scream tore through the chamber as she slamd the pillow against the bed again and again, her arms trembling from the force of it.
The soft fabric did nothing to absorb the fury burning inside her chest.
"I hate you so much!" she cried, her voice cracking as tears stread freely down her cheeks.
"You promised . You promised you would only love . And now, now that you stand at the highest place, you want another woman!"
Her knees buckled, and she fell onto the mattress, burying her face into the pillow as a sob ripped out of her.
Her heart ached so badly it felt like sothing was tearing it apart from the inside.
"I expected you to say no," she muffled, her words shaking. "I expected you to refuse them. I expected you to fight."
Her chest heaved violently. Each breath felt sharp, painful, as though air itself had turned against her.
"I love you," she whispered brokenly. "I loved you without seeing you. Without knowing your face. And now I have to share with you?"
The door creaked softly.
Lumina stiffened.
She did not need sight to know who had entered. The air shifted, familiar feelings wrapping around her like a forgotten mory.
"Aunt!" She let out in pain.
"So," a calm voice said lightly, "you finally rembered that you have a niece you are supposed to check on. After how many days now?"Lumina’s breath hitched as she yelled out.
"Do not cry like this," Seraphina let out, walking closer.
"You look like the world has ended, my baby girl."
Lumina pushed herself upright, her blindfold damp with tears.
"They want him to take another woman," she said hoarsely.
"They are scared of , Aunty. They think I will be uncontrollable in the future."
Her voice broke completely.
"I love my husband. I do not want to share him with anyone." She slid off the bed and rushed forward blindly.
"Aunty..."
Before her hands could reach her, Seraphina vanished.
Lumina stumbled, her arms closing around nothing.
A soft laugh echoed behind her.
"As much as I love you," Seraphina said, reappearing a few steps away, "I am not letting you cling to this easily."
Lumina turned sharply toward her voice, tears still falling. "I am hurting," she said, her tone raw.
"I need soone to make it stop. And you are not helping."
Seraphina’s expression softened, though her posture remained firm. "I know you are angry. But do you truly believe this is the best way to respond?"
"Aunty!" Lumina cried.
"They fear you," Seraphina said gently.
"And I warned you the last ti I ca. The realm is not safe. You cannot sit here waiting for love alone to protect you."
Lumina’s shoulders slumped.
"It is not his fault," she whispered. "He did not choose this."
"Then do not crumble," Seraphina replied. "Stand."
Lumina clenched her fists. "They want him to take a concubine."
"Then take your position," Seraphina said sharply.
"Everyone wants him to rise. You should rise too."
Lumina frowned. "What does that an?"
"It ans you do not beg," Seraphina explained. "You do not cry and shrink. You remind them who you are. Increase your influence before another woman steps into his shadow."
Lumina’s lips trembled.
"But it hurts."
Seraphina stepped closer. "Power always does."
Lumina went quiet for a mont, then pouted faintly.
"Aunty," she muttered, "you did not praise for my sight."
Seraphina froze.
Then she smiled.
Despite her anger, pride blood in her chest. Lumina had endured darkness without letting it define her.
She had learned to read the world without eyes, to command rooms she could not see, to bend fate itself.
"Your mother would be so proud of you," Seraphina said softly.
Lumina’s breath caught.
A small, trembling smile touched her lips. "Really?"
"Yes," Seraphina replied. "She would be smiling so brightly."
Tears returned, but this ti they were warm.
"She protected ," Lumina whispered, her voice barely strong enough to hold the words together. "Even after death."
For a long mont, Seraphina said nothing. The air around them felt heavier, thick with mories that did not belong to this room alone.
"And she still does," Seraphina replied at last.
She reached out slowly, as though giving Lumina ti to pull away if she wished. When Lumina did not move, Seraphina brushed her fingers gently through her hair, smoothing the strands back from her face. The touch was careful, almost reverent, like one might touch sothing fragile yet precious.
"Listen to ," Seraphina said softly, but there was iron beneath her calm. "You have bent the rules of this world since the mont you were born. Blindness did not stop you. Fear did not stop you. Even destiny did not stop you."
Lumina swallowed hard, her throat tight. Her hands clenched in the fabric of her gown.
"Do not stop now," Seraphina continued. "Not because love is testing you."
A silence followed. Lumina’s breathing grew uneven.
"What if..." Her voice broke. "What if he chooses her?"
Seraphina’s hand stilled in Lumina’s hair. She withdrew it slowly and stepped back just enough for her words to land without softness disguising their aning.
"Then you make sure the realm understands they chose wrong," she said calmly. "Not with tears. Not with begging. With presence. With power."
Lumina shook faintly. "I am so tired of being strong."
"I know," Seraphina replied. "But strength is not sothing you wear. It is sothing you are."
Lumina’s chest tightened. Her legs carried her forward before she could think. She wrapped her arms around Seraphina, pressing her face against her aunt’s shoulder as though anchoring herself to sothing real.
Seraphina stiffened.
For a heartbeat, she did not move at all.
"You..." Seraphina said quietly, surprise threading through her voice. "You hugged ."
Lumina nodded against her, too overwheld to speak. Her grip tightened, as though she feared Seraphina might vanish if she loosened it.
Slowly, Seraphina lifted one hand, hovering it uncertainly at Lumina’s back, but she did not return the embrace.
"I knew you were different," Seraphina murmured, more to herself than to Lumina. "From the mont you ca into this world."
Lumina lifted her head slightly, confusion flickering across her face. Different how? The words pressed at her tongue, but she did not ask. Whatever Seraphina ant, she sensed it was not sothing ant to be explained yet.
The air shifted abruptly.
A sharp crack split the chamber, snapping the mont apart.
Lumina gasped as the space before her emptied. Seraphina was gone, leaving only the echo of her presence behind.
The door opened almost imdiately after.
Footsteps crossed the threshold.
Ashen stepped inside.
Lumina turned toward the sound instinctively. Her tears had not fully dried, and the ache in her chest remained raw and exposed.
Ashen stopped when he saw her.
Guilt shadowed his face, heavy and unmistakable. His shoulders sagged slightly, as though he carried a weight too large for him alone.
For a long mont, neither of them spoke.
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