Chapter 84: The Awakening and more shadows
The chamber was drenched in silence, save for the ragged pull of Donato’s breath.
His lids fluttered, his eyes adjusting to the dim golden glow of the oil lamps.
Princess Elowen’s face blurred in and out of clarity, her tears glistening like gems against her porcelain skin.
"You are alive," she whispered, her voice a trembling hymn of relief. She pressed her palm against his cheek as though grounding him to the earth. "The gods have not taken you. They returned you to me."
Donato tried to sit up, but pain lanced through his ribs, searing and raw.
He bit back a groan, his pride refusing to let her see him broken.
His mind, though clouded, was sharp enough to remember: the book, the map, the curse.
"Princess elowen," he rasped, his voice was faint, no louder than a ghost’s breath. "Listen carefully..."
She leaned closer, desperate to catch each syllable.
But instead of spilling his truth, he closed his mouth, his jaw tightening.
If she told her father, the King, that he had awakened, the royal court would swarm him like vultures.
They would strip him of freedom, demand answers, and more dangerously, they might learn the truth about the Black Book.
And once it was lost to him, he might nev
"Do not... tell them I’m awake," he whispered, gripping her wrist weakly but firmly enough to anchor the command.
Her brows furrowed, confusion battling with fear. "What? Donato, no, your people need to know. Your mother has been..... "
"No." His eyes burned with a fire that belied his frail body. "If they know, the book vanishes forever. You must promise me, Elowen."
Her lips parted, torn between duty and the wild devotion she could not admit. "But why? Why hide your life when it is a miracle?"
"Because miracles," he murmured, his gaze distant, "always cost a coin. And I’m not ready to pay mine yet."
Elowen shuddered, her hands trembling as she pressed them against her heart. "Then I will guard your secret. But you must promise me something in return."
His brow arched faintly. "And what is that?"
"Promise you will not vanish from me again," she whispered. "Promise that when you walk into the fire of this cursed destiny, you will let me walk beside you."
Donato’s lips twitched half a smile, half a grimace. "Princess... you have no idea what you’re asking."
But he didn’t refuse.
*****
At the Morano Estate
The moonlight bled across the garden stones as Alessia stared at the box in her hands.
A replica, A lie yet also Luca’s protection.
Luca’s hand rested firm at the small of her back, guiding her toward their chambers. "You did well tonight," he said, though his tone was carved from steel. "But do not think for a second that I won’t punish you for risking yourself."
Alessia’s heart stuttered. "Punish?"
His lips curved, dangerously slow. "Yes, punish." His fingers brushed her jaw, tilting her face upward. "Not with anger, with truth."
She swallowed hard, her eyes wide as he pressed his forehead against hers. "Truth?"
"You think freezing Seraphina was the most dangerous thing tonight?" His voice lowered, husky, intimate, but laced with dread. "No. The most dangerous thing is that you have awakened the power of your bloodline. And every enemy who has slept until now... will rise."
Her breath caught. "What do you mean?"
He only smiled, a smile that was not comfort but warning. "You where there, But tonight, you shall sleep in my arms. Tomorrow, the war begins."
*****
Bianca stumbled back into her her hotel room, her scarf slipping from her shoulders.
Jackson’s soft snores echoed from the couch where he had fallen asleep waiting for her.
Bianca felt a strange pride bloom in her chest as she walked toward him.
"Mom," he said brightly, lifting his gaze.
His eyes, those striking blue eyes, shimmered under the lamp’s glow.
They had always unsettled people, teachers, strangers, even the servants. It was too sharp and too unnatural.
Bianca lowered herself beside him, smoothing his hair back. "How have been school dear?"
His lips curved into a mischievous grin. "Good mom, My teacher said something funny."
"Oh?" She arched a brow, masking her curiosity with playfulness. "And what was that?"
"She said I’m a special child." He spoke the words with a hint of pride, as if he had just won a medal.
Bianca’s smile lingered, though her mind sharpened instantly. Special.
That word echoed. It meant different. It meant powerful.
"And why did she say that, darling?" Her voice was smooth, coaxing, the way only a mother who wanted answers could be.
He blinked, his lashes long, his eyes shimmering like twin shards of sapphire glass. "Because of my blue magical eyes."
Bianca froze for half a breath before covering it with a soft laugh. "Magical eyes?" she teased, though every syllable dripped with intrigue. "Is that what you believe?"
He nodded with the certainty of a prophet. "Yes. I can see things others can’t. And... I can help people if I want to."
Her lips parted, the corners curling into a sharper, more dangerous smile. "Help people, hm? And is that how you’ll use your gift?" she asked, her voice dropping lower, testing him, testing fate itself.
"Yes." His answer came without hesitation, pure, unwavering. "I can use them to help others. But only if I choose."
Bianca leaned back slightly, studying him. The innocence in his tone, the way he believed in his own words it was both disarming and empowering. Inside her chest, something dark unfurled. This wasn’t just a child. This was an opportunity.
She touched his cheek lightly, her nails grazing his skin in a tender yet possessive gesture. Within you, I can create anything I desire, she thought. He was malleable, obedient, devoted. He would never question her.
She didn’t need to tell him outright what she planned. She could guide him, shape him, feed him truths mixed with lies until he couldn’t tell the difference. His "help" would become her weapon.
Bianca’s reflection glimmered faintly in his eyes, and she caught her own smile, A wicked curve that revealed the hunger she had buried too long.
"Yes, my love," she whispered, her voice both a lullaby and a vow. "You are truly special."
And as her son turned back to his toys, oblivious to the storm his words had stirred, Bianca’s smile deepened.
Not the smile of a mother proud of her child’s gifts.. No.
This was the smile of a woman who had just discovered her most dangerous weapon.
Her son’s eyes, Her son’s magic.
Her son’s future belonging entirely to her.
Her thoughts diverted as guilt sliced her chest, but Enzo’s words screamed louder.
Larisa, And Vàlká... One woman, two forms. Power that shifts between realms.
Her mind spun, the temptation already coiling inside her.
If Larisa was real, if she truly was the Valká then i had found a weapon to wield against Luca, Alessia, and every enemy who stood in her way.
She sank onto the bed, fingers brushing her belly. "I’ll give you everything," she whispered to her unborn child. "Even if it means burning the Moranos alive."
******
Enzo’s Whisper in the Dark, Far from Bianca’s trembling resolve.
Enzo walked the shadowed streets of Virenkai, the hood over his head barely concealing the scar the Atlans had left him.
He paused beneath the iron arch of an abandoned temple, where whispers seemed to bleed from the stone itself.
"You did well," the shadows hissed, Larisa’s voice dripping like molten gold.
Enzo’s jaw tightened. "She believes you’re her savior."
"And you?" the voice teased. "Do you believe in me?"
His lips curved into a dangerous smirk. "I don’t need to believe. I just need to win. And with you, I will."
The shadows coiled tighter, like snakes slithering around his body. "Then win, Enzo. But remember... when you win, the coin must be paid."
His eyes gleamed. "i pay with theirs, Not mine
******
At ST thoma’s hospital in garam.
Princess Elowen slipped into the corridor, her heart pounding with Donato’s secret burning her chest. ??? She turned sharply only to collide with Enzo.
The impact sent a chill through her. His eyes were sharp, studying her as if peeling her open.
"Princess Elowen," he said smoothly, bowing just enough to mock. "You seem... flustered. Something happened?"
She forced a smile, hiding her shaking hands behind her gown. "Nothing you need to know."
But Enzo’s gaze lingered, hungry and calculating. Donato’s awake, he thought, though she never said it.
He could smell secrets the way wolves smelled blood.
That night, as Alessia lay in Luca’s arms, her body finally surrendering to sleep, the replica box rested on the nightstand.
Its edges glowed faintly under the moonlight, a shimmer invisible to the ordinary eye.
The box trembled.
Slowly, without touch, the lid creaked open.
Inside, where nothing should have been... lay a single torn page of the Black Book.
Its ink pulsed like living blood.
And in a voice only Alessia could hear, even in her dreams, it whispered:
"The wrong box was always the right one"......