Anastasia couldn't breathe.
Her chest rose and fell in short, frantic bursts, her skin glowing faintly—too faint for the human eye, but Antoine saw it.
She stood in the sanctuary's heart, surrounded by flickering candlelight, and magic poured from her like smoke. The walls pulsed. The air shimmered. She had remembered.
She remembered everything.
Karena's laughter. Karena's fear. The pain of chains biting her wrists. The coldness of betrayal. The child that never drew breath.
And Antoine's bloodied hand, clinging to hers until the spell took her name away.
Now, her body didn't know what to do with that grief.
The pendant at her throat—a shard of the Beurie witches' old crest—glowed white-hot, reacting to the surge.
"Anastasia," Antoine said carefully. "You have to breathe."
"I'm not her," she whispered, though her magic screamed otherwise. "I don't want this. I don't want the past. I want to forget again—"
But her power had tasted freedom and would not be caged.
Magic surged from her in a wave.
The stone altar cracked. The window shattered behind her. Wild vines of glowing energy curled through the air like serpents.
Antoine was on her in an instant, arms wrapping around her from behind, anchoring her.
"Let it out," he whispered in her ear, voice like velvet and steel. "Don't run from it. Let me help you."
She gasped as another surge rippled from her fingers.
"I'll hurt you," she warned, trembling.
"You already have," he whispered, lips brushing her neck. "And I still came back."
---
He led her to the sacred bath—a pool carved into the marble floor, filled with silver-dusted water that dampened wild magic.
She stepped in slowly, and her glowing skin shimmered beneath the rippling surface. Her breath hitched when Antoine joined her, fully clothed, water soaking through his shirt, turning black silk transparent.
He touched her gently.
No lust. Just worship.
"Do you know why your magic feels like it's tearing you apart?" he asked softly, running a thumb over her collarbone.
She shook her head.
"Because you never learned to feel with it. Karena fought her magic. But Anastasia has to make peace with it."
"How?" she asked.
Antoine took her hand and placed it over his heart. "Start here."
She felt the steady thump, deep and eternal. A vampire's heart that rarely beat… except when she touched him.
Her magic pulsed in response. No longer wild. Curious.
"Now," he murmured, "feel yourself. Not the rage. Not the grief. You. The woman who defied fate."
Tears slipped down her cheeks.
And her power settled.
For the first time, the storm calmed. It curled around them, not like a weapon—but a lover's embrace.
She stared at him, lips parting.
"You anchored me," she whispered.
Antoine's mouth descended on hers, slow and deep, tasting her magic, her sorrow, her fire.
Their kiss wasn't rushed—it was a reclamation. Of lifetimes. Of stolen choices. Of the love they never got to finish.
In the silver water, her thighs wrapped around his waist, and he sank into her like a man starving for centuries.
---
Their bodies moved in rhythm, magic and desire blurring the lines between pain and pleasure. With every cry, her powers danced brighter—not exploding, but blossoming.
She was no longer the lost witch.
She was Karena reborn.
And Antoine, her eternal obsession.
---
When it was over, she lay draped across his chest, their fingers laced above the water.
"Do you still love her?" she asked, voice husky.
He met her gaze.
"I loved Karena." He kissed her temple. "But I'm in love with Anastasia."
Her eyes burned with something close to hope.
But then, a cold wind passed through the sanctuary.
A name echoed in the magic-tainted air.
Victor.
Antoine stiffened.
"He knows," he said quietly. "My brother knows you've returned."
Anastasia's heartbeat quickened.
The past was no longer buried.
And neither were its ghosts.
The sanctuary door blew open with a gust of unnatural wind.
Anastasia flinched, her newly awakened magic reacting on instinct—arcs of glowing energy lashing out like serpents. Antoine rose from the bath, soaking wet, shielding her with one fluid motion, fangs already bared.
The figure in the doorway didn't flinch.
Victor Vellaria had arrived.
His crimson eyes were cold, his presence royal, commanding, and terrifying in its elegance. His midnight cloak swirled around him like living shadows, and a smirk played at the corner of his mouth.
"Well," Victor drawled, "I must say… brother, you always had a taste for witches in crisis."
Antoine's voice was a snarl. "Get out."
"Not yet." Victor stepped inside, boots clicking against marble. "I came to see her. The woman who died to defy me. Or so I thought."
Anastasia's power pulsed with warning, but Victor raised a hand—and a warding circle snapped into place, trapping them all inside. No escape. No lies.
"Karena Beurie," Victor said, walking slowly toward her. "Or should I say, Anastasia now? Do you remember the promise you broke?"
Anastasia stood from the water, unashamed, her body cloaked in silver mist and magic. She faced him, not Karena the frightened girl, but Anastasia, reborn with fury and light.
"I remember your betrayal," she said. "You handed me over to the Council like I was filth."
Victor's smirk faded.
"I gave you a choice. You chose him," he nodded toward Antoine, "and it destroyed everything."
"It saved me," she snapped. "You wouldn't understand love if it bled for you."
Antoine moved between them. "You're not touching her."
Victor's smile turned lethal.
"I didn't come to touch her, brother. I came to warn her."
Anastasia's breath caught.
"Warn me?"
Victor looked her dead in the eyes. "Your child. The one you lost."
The room went still.
"I buried her," Anastasia whispered. "She was never born."
Victor's voice lowered to a velvet whisper. "You think that was your magic killing her?" He shook his head. "You were wrong."
He stepped closer.
"She lived. They took her. The Council. They raised her in the shadow of the Sanctum. As a weapon. As… vengeance."
Anastasia's knees nearly buckled.
Antoine caught her just in time.
Victor smiled, cruel and sad. "And now? She's coming for you. They named her Lilienne. The Crimson Witch."