The pain was still there even when morning came and Lucien was no where to be seen. Setting out early, as early as five am when the boys were still asleep, she went to meet Aerith knowing the pain was from the mate bond.
The school grounds were deserted as she expected them to be, she took a turn and got to Aerith's lab, the door was locked with a faint shimmering light, but when her hands touched the door, Aerith voice suddenly sounded,
"Push the door, Nerissa."
The shimmering wards vanished like smoke, and the door creaked open. The familiar scent of herbs, ether dust, and old magic welcomed her. Aerith sat at her worktable, her golden eyes reflecting the faint blue glow of several floating crystals.
"Sit," Aerith said simply.
Nerissa obeyed, lowering herself into the seat opposite her. She couldn't hide the exhaustion in her eyes—or the pain that clung to her like a ghost.
"It hurts," she said softly. "And I can't make it stop."
Aerith sighed, setting aside the vial she'd been examining. "That's because it wasn't your doing."
Nerissa blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"
"Lucien," Aerith said. "He's the cause."
The room tilted. Nerissa's breath caught somewhere in her throat. "What did he—?"
"He broke a part of the bond," Aerith interrupted gently. "Or rather, it was broken for him."
Nerissa stared at her, the words not sinking in. "That's not possible… the bond can't just break and even if it does, you said it wasn't supposed to affect me."
"It can," Aerith said quietly. "If you have any emotion for him, which you clearly do. Also, If another magic interferes with the bond, it can break. Especially one crafted from the essence of an old soul."
"Old soul?"
Aerith's gaze softened. "Nia."
Nerissa froze. The name came like a blade. "What did she do?"
Aerith's expression didn't change, but the faint crack in her calm was telling. "She's using something she shouldn't have—a relic from her past life. A vial that binds emotions. It doesn't erase bonds, it corrodes them."
Silence filled the room, thick and heavy.
Nerissa's voice trembled when she spoke again. "So that's why it felt like… like something was being torn out of me."
Aerith nodded. "Yes. It's not complete, but the bond is damaged. Lucien is caught between what he was and what he is now."
Nerissa clenched her fists. "Then fix it."
Aerith gave her a sad look. "It's not that simple. Bonds can't just be mended—they must heal through choice. And for that, both sides have to want it."
Nerissa laughed bitterly. "So if he doesn't… if he's with her…"
"Then the bond decays," Aerith finished, her tone quiet but firm. "And when a bond like yours decays, it takes everything with it—strength, sanity, soul."
Nerissa's green eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "He wouldn't…"
But her voice broke before she could finish the sentence.
Aerith stood and came around the table, placing a gentle hand on Nerissa's shoulder. "You can't save him if you break yourself trying. Bonds can hurt, but they can also rebuild. Trust what's inside you."
Nerissa looked up, meeting Aerith's gaze. "And if I can't?"
"Then you'll lose him. Again."
Those words struck her like a storm, stirring something deep in her chest—a memory she didn't own, yet one that felt hers. Flames. Blood. A battlefield. Silver eyes fading as a girl with golden hair fell beside him.
Nerissa clutched her chest, gasping, as the pain surged again.
Aerith knelt beside her, whispering, "The memories are returning faster than expected. The bond's awakening more than just your soul—it's stirring everything tied to it, and this memories are ruining everything"
Nerissa looked at her, confusion and anger swirling in her eyes. "So I'm just supposed to sit here while she poisons him?"
"No," Aerith said firmly, standing again. "You're supposed to fight for him."
Nerissa blinked. "What?"
Aerith smiled faintly. "You are not powerless, child. You're not a witch, or a wolf, or any label they've tried to cage you with. You're more. Remember that when the time comes."
Nerissa rose slowly, her expression hardening. "Then I'll fight."
Aerith inclined her head. "Good. Because she's not just after him, Nerissa. She's after you—and everything your soul stands for."
The air crackled faintly between them, like the hum of old magic remembering its name.
As Nerissa turned to leave, Aerith added quietly, "When he looks at her, remind him who saved him first."
Nerissa paused at the doorway, her silhouette outlined by the faint morning light. "I don't want to remind him," she said softly. "I want him to remember on his own."
And with that, she left.
The door closed, and Aerith turned to the window where Vale had been leaning silently, watching.
"She's awakening," he said.
"Yes," Aerith murmured, her eyes distant. "And so is the war."
Lucien awoke to the sound of dripping water.
It wasn't loud — just a soft, rhythmic tap from the ceiling onto the marble floor of his private garden's fountain. The air was still cool, carrying the faint fragrance of night lilies, but his body felt heavy as if his veins carried lead instead of blood.
He sat up slowly. His shirt was half-buttoned, his hair disheveled, and a faint trace of something sweet and something wrong lingered on his skin.
He didn't remember how he got here.
The last thing he recalled was the garden, Nia's face glimmering in the moonlight, and her saying something about trust... and a vial. Then — warmth. Touch. Pain disguised as pleasure.
Lucien's fingers brushed his lips. The memory of it made him sick.
He rose to his feet, staggering slightly, gripping the edge of the fountain for balance. His reflection stared back at him from the water. Pale, fractured, and haunted.
What have I done?
The question echoed in his mind, unbidden. His storm-silver eyes darkened as guilt surged through him, a sharp ache that twisted with the same force as the bond itself.
He could feel Nerissa.
Or rather — he could feel her hurt.
A pulse of raw emotion rippled through the tether between them — fear, confusion, betrayal. It struck him hard enough to make his chest seize. He grasped the edge of the fountain tighter, teeth gritting.
"Nerissa…" he whispered.
But when he tried to recall her face, it flickered — sharp, then fading, like an image dissolving in smoke.
Her voice — the sharp wit, the way she said his name with that mixture of irritation and reluctant care — it was slipping away, being replaced by another.
Another smile.
Another voice.
Golden hair.
Nia.
Lucien shut his eyes tightly, as if doing so could erase her image. But the enchantment's roots ran deep — it didn't erase; it rewrote.
He felt it working even now, curling into his thoughts, softening memories that weren't supposed to be soft.
Nia's words echoed in his mind — "Even after you left me, I still cared for you."
Had she really said that, or had the enchantment planted it? He couldn't tell anymore.
A whisper came from the shadows.
"You look lost."
Lucien's head snapped up. Vale stood there, the faint dawn light spilling over his figure, his usual cold expression sharpened by concern.
"What are you doing here?" Lucien asked, his voice rough.
"Checking the garden," Vale replied calmly. "But I see the garden isn't what's breaking."
Lucien's jaw tightened. "You should leave."
Vale didn't move. "She's in pain, you know. Nerissa."
Lucien flinched. "I know."
"Then why aren't you with her?"
Lucien looked away, guilt painting his face. "Because if I go near her, I might hurt her more. Also, she has the others to take care of her"
Vale studied him quietly. "The others is not you, besides, you already hurt her."
Lucien's eyes flickered to him, sharp and defensive. "You don't understand—"
"I understand enough," Vale interrupted, his tone low but not unkind. "You were manipulated. You think the guilt is yours alone, but that girl—Nia—has been playing this game far longer than you realize."
Lucien's silence was answer enough.
Vale stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You think you remember her saving you, don't you?"
Lucien's breath caught.
"How did you—?"
"Aerith told me." Vale's tone softened, just barely. "Those memories aren't lies, Lucien. But they're not hers. The one who saved you... you're smart and should understand what I'm saying."
Lucien's head snapped toward him. "No. I saw—"
"You saw what Nia wanted you to see," Vale said evenly. "She's been trying to rewrite your past — your truth. But you can't change the thread of fate. The soul remembers what the mind forgets."
Lucien felt something inside him fracture — a spark of defiance breaking through the enchantment's haze. His pulse quickened; his head throbbed.
He took a step back, clutching his temples. "If you're right… then what have I done to her?"
Vale's expression darkened. "You broke something sacred."
Lucien's knees hit the ground. His hands trembled as a wave of nausea and guilt washed over him. The air around him shimmered faintly — the bond straining, flickering, fighting to survive.
Somewhere in the Academy, Nerissa washed her face dry from tears, looking at her reddened eyes.
And somewhere deeper, the bond between them screamed — unheard, unseen — trying to hold on as the old curse stirred once again.
Vale watched silently, his eyes hardening.
He turned away, muttering to himself, "Let's hope she's strong enough to fix what fate keeps breaking."
Lucien's breath came in uneven gasps, his vision clouding. And in the reflection of the fountain's water, two faces flickered — one golden, smiling with deceit, and one dark-haired, crying in the dark.
Only one of them whispered his name.
Only one of them still loved him.