Rosemary watched as Emery fell deep into the coma, her bare limbs tangled within his. As dawn made its appearance outside, Rosemary could feel a definite and commanding shift within her, starting at the pit of her stomach and reverberating through her lungs, her ribs, and escaping in hoarse breathes from her throat. Her magic vibrated alongside this feeling, a familiar darkness that was both unsettling and riveting at the same time, something that fueled her gifts in conflicting ways. 

She would not wait another day to explore that emotion. No, today would be the day.

Slipping from Emery’s grasp, Rosemary dressed herself and washed her face in the basin. Instead of heading downstairs, she climbed the spiral steps leading to the tower at the very top of the house. Closing the door behind her, she settled by the window where several candles lined the ledge. Outside, the sun hid behind heavy gray clouds, overcast from the mountains and offering a mugginess that was sticky with the becoming heat. She felt a bead of sweat run down her face, and matched it with a long and exasperated sigh. From the window she could see Night Haven beginning to come alive. 

Never worried about Emery poking around the tower, Rosemary stashed her books and other witchy belongings there to keep them out of the way. A cauldron rested in the corner, hardly used, and a chest full of her new collections of tomes and important items needed for spells sat besides it. Having lost all of her belongings when she perished in the Viking Battle, Rosemary had spent the last several months since her return creating a new collection. With help from Takeshi and other witches in hiding in both Night Haven and Brailston, Rosemary was happy with what she had thus far. 

Unlocking the chest, Rose pulled out several books and set them aside, searching for one piece of parchment in particular. She had hid it at the very bottom, fearful that Emery would see it and scold her for having such a thing, or worse, that Takeshi would find out that she had stolen it from his Book of Shadows.

Finally she held the piece of the book in her hands, and the darker elements inside of her that writhed with wanted attention seemed to settle, as if reacting to the page itself. For months Rose had wanted to perform the spell on the parchment yet she lacked the ingredients to do so. Obtaining what was needed proved to be more difficult than she imagined, considering she could not ask Takeshi for help. When Emery would travel to Monir, she often went with him to Brailston and stayed there, shopping the markets and waiting on him to finish his business at The Serpent’s Pass. 

But now, she had everything she needed. 

With a piece of white chalk, Rosemary drew a pentagram on the floor of the small tower. She lit nearly two dozen candles, scattering them around the room and at each corner of the star. 

It wasn't a difficult seance but Rosemary needed a certain element of the Book of Shadows in order to communicate with the dead specifically; if she contacted the wrong spirit she would find herself disturbing the peace in some way, and that was something that she did not want. Rosemary believed that some souls should stay at rest, she knew what it was like to be in the arms of death and purgatory, and if she were in their shoes she would want to be left alone. She had to contact the spirit without disturbing the others around her for she knew that within Night Haven, ghosts trembled along the muddy streets... especially those from the Viking Battle fifty years prior.

From the trunk, Rosemary gathered more supplies that consisted of mostly dried herbs from a week before along with some soil that she put inside of a small vile. This soil was from Lyra's grave. While she had attended her affairs at the house in the Countryside, Rosemary had done some snooping of her own while Anne slumbered and the children rested their eyes. Rosemary had gone through the old trunk that Blaise had left behind. It was there that she found the soil and attached to it was a small piece of parchment with simple letters scribbled it across the faded paper; Lyra. And rosemary knew that this soil was somehow special, but why had Blaise left it behind? She was not sure and she knew that the only way she would get answers was to contact her daughter. If Lyra’s spirit remained on this plane of theirs then Rosemary would be able to connect with her in some way....somehow she would be able to speak with her daughter again. 

Sitting on her knees in the middle of the pentagram, Rosemary placed the spell in front of her. Although she had not found a wand yet she felt as though she could perform the spell with just her hands and some concentration. It would be more challenging but she was up for it. Rosemary closed her eyes and channeled the energy around her, focusing on the softness of the breeze that blew through the open tower window. With the dark outside and the grey atmosphere closing in around the city of Night Haven,Rosemary felt very peaceful. There were parts of purgatory that she would rather not remember, but the selected quietness on some special nights were all she longed for at times. It was such a rare thing in that plane of the universe and Rosemary cherished the delicateness that dawn was bringing to her town. 

Rosemary held out her hands above the spell, continuing to channel all of her energy into the words printed on the paper. She mumbled them under her breath in a slow mantra, conjuring her magic from the very pits of her stomach to excrete through her hands. At the tips of her fingers, her flesh began to glow a mysterious white, barely beige and flashing with an eerie softness that was both hypnotizing and scary. The ball of light wrapped itself around her fingers like a snake to coil down her wrist and trace each line inside of her palm. Again, Rosemary chanted the next line of the spell and repeated this process until all of the words have been spoken.

By now, the light had enveloped her entire body like a string wrapped around her limbs. Now, she picked up the vial containing the soil from Lyra's grave and poured it in a circle around where she sat. Closing her eyes once more, Rosemary attended to the spell one last time until finally, at the end, she pronounced her daughter's name out loud in a strict and important gesture, as if to grab her attention from the other world.

The wind blew through the window flickering the candles, the balls of lights whipping around Rosemary’s body reacting in unison. Within her, she could feel the dark magic of the other world pulling at her, and it was somewhat comforting and familiar from purgatory. From outside, a black and grey smoke began to plume from the tower window. It was barely there yet it was pungent and it crept along the floor around the pentagram, fusing with each line and sinking deep into it to disappear completely. 

Rosemary continue to chant Lyra’s name and her arms raised as she did so. When she did this, the grey smoke from each line of the pentagram raised with her, covering Rosemary in a suffocating, harmless array of smoke. Finally, Rosemary could feel the presence of another within that tower and a part of her was giddy with excitement. However, another part of her longed for there to be another way for her to receive the answers that she was looking. Rosemary knew that it would pain her to see her daughter dead and unable to physically touch her, but it was necessary in order for Rose to protect her new family. She had to be strong for Lyra, for Benjamin, and especially for herself.

Rosemary's arms fell in one swoop and the smoke escaped once again into the pentagram. She opened her eyes and there before her stood the ghost of Lyra.

For a moment, Rosemary could not breathe. Her hand went to her chest in shock, utterly amazed at the pixilated being floating before her. She was transparent and deathly gray, and from the waist down her body morphed into the air so that her legs were not seen. Yet within her eyes was a sadness, something palpable and pungent that Rosemary could not escape. Hollow and filled with a void unattainable on earth, it was evident that Lyra did not belong...and that her body, even in her ghostly appearance, was fading into the rare form of the poltergeist.

“Are you...” Rosemary swallowed, hearing the sound of her voice crack when she tried to speak. “...are you a ghost?”

It was possible that Lyra could be a phantom, trapped within the worlds and unable to find the strength to manifest into her body. Emery had told her countless stories about the phantoms at the graveyard, moaning and lingering between the realms, lost. Was it possible? If so, Lyra could learn to harness her power and become solid once again...they could be together...they could...

“Yes,”

Her voice was like an ancient dream that sounded far away, an echo that encompassed Rosemary in a sea of guilt and regret. Sadly she lowered her head, a sudden feeling of grief and loss overcoming her body. To know that her daughter had died was an awful thing to feel in general, but to see her in her current state left a hole in Rosemary’s heart. She felt as though she had failed every aspect of Lyra’s life. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“I am...I am so sorry for giving you away. I am sorry I died n the Viking Battle and I’m sorry I was not there for you when you discovered your magic. I should have been there, I should have never let you out of my sight,” Rosemary felt a weakness explode within her upon remembering the day that she gave Lyra to Susan. Nothing could ever compare to that moment...except to relive the horror as she was now. “Can you ever forgive me?”

The ghost of Lyra hummed and continued to float just out of reach. She was older, appearing as a woman who died as a mother and who had seen the world beyond white magic. “I forgave you a long time ago,”

Rosemary’s heart skipped a beat, a cleansing feeling washing over her.

“I have been waiting for this moment for many years. It was foretold that the seal between worlds would be bent, and that you would walk this land again. In doing so, I have remained as a shadow, awaiting your arrival,” Lyra said. Rosemary looked upon her daughter confused.

“Foretold? By who? Who could have possibly known that I would step from purgatory?”

“My son, Blaise, your grandson. He is more than just a warlock...he is a seer,”

“A seer? He can see the future?”

“Yes,”

Rosemary was in shock. She had never discovered the lineage of fae that her blood had came from, but knowing that Blaise was a true seer could only mean that the fae DNA was powerful. Everything began to slowly make sense to her...why he ran, why he left his family...

“Is he alive? Blaise? If so, I must find him. He abandoned his family after you passed away. His wife and children have yet to forgive him...they think he sold his soul for immortality but if that is not the case, I can reunite them...they can be a family again,”

Lyra nodded at her words. “Blaise left this country to seek the council of a great warlock in France. Seeing the future comes with a price...to know all, to see all...Blaise discovered something unexplainable, and that is why he left. Staying would have placed his family in harms way. There are people looking for him. He could not risk Anne and the children,”

“This warlock, who is he? What could he possibly want with Blaise? He’s been gone for over a decade, how do you know he is still alive?”

“I know,”

“But how? What if the warlock was the one looking for him? What if he is being held against his will? What if he needs help?!”

“You have little faith in me,”

“What? No--no, Lyra I promise I believe you. I just want to make sure he is safe...his family deserves to know, don’t you think?”

Lyra remained quiet, as if she were hiding something. Somehow, Rosemary could sense this. Her eyes narrowed as she looked upon the ghost of her daughter. “You are not telling me something. You would not have waited around all these years not to give me any kind of information to go off of,”

“Finding Blaise will be the death of you, mother. If you seek out my son, he will destroy you,”

Rosemary’s shoulders slumped in defeat at the information, regretting asking in the first place. “So either I allow Benjamin and his sister to grow up without their father for the sake of my life, or I reunite them and sacrifice my own,”

“That is correct,”

“How is this fair?”

“It is not,”

A silence settled between mother and daughter, haunting and deafening. Rosemary felt the weight of the world crashing down around her, and it was impossible to make the right decision. She cared for her family and wanted Benjamin to know that magic was not to be ashamed of, and that he could learn to harness the good in magic instead of the evil. Knowing that Blaise did not sell his soul as of yet made Rosemary believe that there was still hope.

“What will happen to you now?” Rosemary asked her daughter, afraid of the answer but needing to know either way.

The small Countryside Village was easily missed by most travelers, though if a wayward soul would find its way into the town, they would be greeted by warm and friendly faces. The families that made up the town were very old, and each house was dedicated to a particular lineage. The children, once old enough, would leave to venture out to the cities to find work and create temporary homes for themselves. But it was always expected that the eldest of the family would receive the home upon the death of the current family member. It was their duty to return to the house and raise their own children there, and pass it along as it had been done so to them. With only several stone homes making up the small village, a docile farm and a handful of chickens, the residence made due with what they brought back from Night Haven during the trading season. It was a quiet life and one that was preferred by most, that was until they were attacked by beasts in the middle of the night.

Emery had told Rosemary about his and Shiloh’s trip to the village to seek out the blood from her living descendant. Eager to know everything there was to know about her family, Rosemary bombarded Emery with question after question about who they were and what they were like. Unenthusiastic to share such information with her, Emery gave her vague details and shooed her away, not interested in the slightest to have her worrying about a family that wanted nothing to do with her or her magic. He was her family now, not them, and he would make sure that they didn’t hurt her.

After weeks of nagging, Rosemary finally declared to her husband that she would be traveling to the village, with or without his help. She packed a small bag and some food, swinging it over her shoulder, and looked upon him with expecting eyes. Emery, refusing to allow Rosemary to travel to the countryside without so much as an idea as to where she was going, reluctantly decided to show her the way.

Emery and Shiloh had made it to the village in half a night, sprinting at full force. Carriages did not travel to the countryside and so they were forced to travel by horseback. This, Emery was not thrilled about. Horses, though loyal and strong creatures, did not seem to enjoy the vampire very much. May it be his dead soul and his inability to connect to the great beasts, he was not sure. It had been years, decades, since he rode a horse and it took him until they were clear from the forests surrounding Night Haven for the creature to trot at a steady pace.

He received a laughable ear-full from his wife about the incident.

“There it is,” Rosemary pointed, her other arm wrapped safely around her husband’s torso. After two nights of riding they had finally made it, and Emery did his best to be happy for Rose...but it was difficult. He did not want anything to do with this family or her own blood lineage. He wanted Rose for himself.

Soft lights filled the windows of the cottages, flickering with a small gust of wind from the hill. At the gate leading into the homes, Emery tied the horse to the post and pushed through.

“Thank you, for bringing me...I know this is not your ideal plan but it is important to me,” Rosemary intertwined their fingers as they walked forward, giving it a small squeeze. Emery only nodded, remaining silent, and lead them towards the house where her living descendants were slumbering.

At the walkway he stopped and kissed her, lingering for a very precious moment. “I won’t be far...I’m going to try to make it to the beaches tonight to see Tak. Stay here tonight and I’ll be back the night after next,”

He handed her the bag and motioned towards the house. “The mother...she’s not kind. I told her that if she didn’t find their father then I’d come back for her. If he’s not there, you let me know, and I’ll take care of it,”

“I don’t need you to take care of it, Em. Regardless if she found him or not they are my family and I want them to be safe. I just want to get some information on Lyra,”

Rosemary kissed him on the cheek and headed for the door. Once there, she took a long breath, raising her hand to the wooden structure. “Here goes,” she knocked several times, looking back over her shoulder to see if Emery was still waiting...but he had gone.

She heard shuffling from inside and the light from another candle shone through the window. Seconds later, the door creaked open just enough for an older woman to show her face. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“H-hello,” Rosemary stuttered, smiling awkwardly and offering a small, shy wave. “I’m so sorry to bother you this late, but I just arrived from Night Haven and I need a place to rest. I promise I won’t stay long,”

The woman looked passed Rosemary and scanned the perimeter outside, then looked upon Rose’s face with apprehension. “You alone?”

“Yes, I am, only my horse has accompanied me tonight,”

She looked at the horse, then back at Rose. “Fine, but I’ve no beds for you. Come in,” standing aside, Rosemary slipped through the archway and into the cottage. Immediately she smelled fresh sage and thyme, along with other herbs that mixed together quite nicely. Removing her cloak she draped it along the back of a chair and continued to look around, hoping to appear nonchalant and not so curious.

“What is your name? Mine is Rosemary. Thank you so much for allowing me to stay here...do you have any children?”

The woman shuffled to the table and lit several more candles, adding light to the walls. “I’m Anne. And yes I do, two actually...they are slumbering as it is the middle of the night,”

“Yes, it is and I’m so terribly sorry,” Rosemary chewed on her lip, wondering if her manners were sufficient. She had never been good at such things. “Might I see them?”

“What for?” Anne poked at a dying fire in the fireplace and set a kettle over it, then continued to busy herself with other tasks in order to avoid eye contact with her guest.

“I...just love children,” she replied weakly. “I had a child once,”

“Once? What does that mean?” Anne inquired without much console, now rearranging her herbs on the mantel.

“Well,” Rose took a deep breath, allowing herself to aimlessly walk around the cottage as she spoke. “I had a daughter from a man that was...not wanted,” she stole a look at Anne, but the woman had paid her no mind to the dreadful comment. “But I could not keep her, you see. I had to give her away,”

Anne glanced at Rose and offered a sympathetic look. “That’s terrible,” then went back to fluffing the pillows on the sofa.

“Yes but it was for her best interests. There was a woman who took care of her for me, she lived here in the countryside. I would come to see her as much as I could, but it was difficult,”

“I can imagine,”

“Every time I had to leave her a piece of me would crush into the earth. Nothing could replace that feeling or fill the void for the loss I felt when I would hand her to Susan and go home,”

“Susan?” Anne stopped fluffing the pillows and stood more straighter, her attention now on Rosemary.

“She was a wonderful woman, so caring and loyal. As much as it pained me to leave my daughter with her, I knew that she was well-cared for,” Rosemary folded her hands in front of her, her memories of her daughter allowing her to feel grief and loss. “There is a reason why I came here, Anne. My daughter...”

She met Anne’s eyes, locking her into a stare that was unbreakable and strong. “...was Lyra Penvellyn,” she paused as Anne’s eyes went wide, and she stepped backwards involuntarily, her hand grasping at her chest. “My name is Rosemary Frost, and I am your children’s great-grandmother,”

A very palpable thickness encompassed the air between Rosemary and Anne, a silence that was evident and possessed a hint of anger. Anne had remained frozen for a moment, staring at Rose as if she were a disease, a walking reminder of everything she loathed in magic. A part of her did not want to believe that this beautiful, young woman was truly responsible for all that had succumbed to her family. But she knew better. Anne had taken the children to visit Lyra’s grave after the snow had melted and the Hallowed Oak was safer to travel. It was there that she saw the disturbance in her grave, a large piece of her skeleton had gone missing. She shielded her children’s eyes and sent them away from the horrid sight, but not after she examined the area more carefully looking for clues. Although she had found no reason for Lyra’s grave to be meddled with, she had found it odd for a part of her to have gone astray.

Why take the bone? Why not the jewelry she was buried with or the wand hidden beneath her frame?

Magic had always been a sour spot for Anne; she disapproved and wanting nothing to do with it. She had kept her child safe from his gift and would be damned if someone came along to tell her otherwise. After the visit with the vampire and the wolf, Anne knew that it was only a matter of time before something like this happened. She was not blind. She knew that what was being collected was for a spell, but for what spell she was not sure.

Now she had her answer.

“You are dead,” Anne found her voice. “You perished in the war,”

“I did,” Rose answered, nodding slightly. “I have been dead for fifty years until my husband and a great warlock cast a spell to retrieve me,”

“Retrieve you from where?”

Rose swallowed, lifting her chin in hopes of gaining confidence to talk about her past. “From purgatory,”

Anne made a noise that clearly did not fancy that idea, and she moved away from Rose and back to the fire where the kettle began to whistle. Talking as she worked, she pour the hot water in two cups, preparing them. “I don’t want any of that devil magic here. You tell your monster of a husband to stay away from me! Stay away from my children! He attacked me you know, threatened my life. What kind of man does such a thing to an old woman? It’s wrong, I tell you! You should have stayed in purgatory, it’s where your fate sent you. You don’t belong in this world, Rosemary. Have you thought of the consequences for your selfish actions? Have you thought about the unbalance you have created?”

Scoffing, Anne motioned for Rose to take her cup, leaving her own on the tray and beginning to pace. Magic always found its way back to that little cottage, no matter how hard she tried to protect her children from it.

Rosemary took the tea and dropped a small cube of sugar inside the hot water. She sat on the edge of a chair, cautious and trying desperately to retain her manners.

“I have thought about every possible scenario, Anne. I did not ask for this, though I am not unhappy about being way from that place. You would not understand nor would I expect you, or anyone else, to,” She blew on the water, then took a small sip. “Dark magic was used...it was powerful, and I was grasped by an angel of death. I know that there is a price for this, which is why I have come here,”

“What could you possible want here? My boy does not practice magic and his father ran off when Lyra passed. There is nothing for you here,”

Rose shook her head. “You’re wrong. There is everything for me here. Your child, he is my great-grandson by blood. He has strong and wonderful magic within him. He deserves to know, he deserves to practice it. I want to help him...it will be my way of fixing the wrong I have taken part of. But I must ask your blessing,”

“My blessing? You shall not receive it!” Anne was growing more angry by the second, her face becoming a distinct red. A bead of sweat dripped from her forehead. “If I wanted Benjamin to practice like his father then I would have found a way to already, don’t you think? His father carried all of Lyra’s magic, the good and the evil, especially the evil. Do you think I want that for my son? Do you think I want him to abandon his family in search of riches and gold in France? To become a creature of immortality? To worship the devil!”

“We do not worship the devil!”

“You sell your souls to the devil to become immortal. What else could that possibly mean?”

“You’re wrong. There are other ways. Your husband must have found another way and that is why he left. Maybe what he was doing was too powerful to be around your family. He must have had his reasons...”

Anne’s hands balled into fists at how loosely Rosemary was speaking of her husband, as if she knew him her whole life. “Blaise was consumed in dark magic. His soul was corrupt. All he cared about was finding the remaining collection of Book of Shadows and filling his heart with evil. He left when I found out I was having the twins, sailed away to France last I heard of him. He is probably dead by now, joined with his mother in a deep corruption of darkness. Yes, that’s right. Your daughter, Lyra, was not so different. Where do you think Blaise learned about his powers? And now it all makes sense; your own soul was lost in purgatory, forgotten...and meanwhile your kin found the dark arts and consumed themselves within. Perhaps if you had never died then Blaise would still be here for his children. What does that say about you, Rose? Why did you perish when you had everything to look after? Why did you curse this family?!”

The cup from the tray went flying across the room, shattering against the wall behind Rose’s head. Lost and unable to respond to Anne’s accusations, Rosemary felt a very familiar uncomfortable emotion churn within her stomach. Knowing that Lyra had practice dark magic settled wrongly inside of her heart, tugging at it harshly in a mocking manner. Perhaps if she had survive the Viking Battle, she would have been able to teach her daughter the ways of the forest, to be guided by the spirits rather than the devil. Her hand went to her chest, the muscles there tightening.

“Momma?”

A small voice echoed from the hallway leading towards the bedrooms. Anne and Rose looked over to see the small boy, his hair blonde and tangled from his slumber. He rubbed at his eyes, confused. “Who is that lady?”

Anne rushed towards him as Rosemary stood, her face softening at his sight. “Benjamin, you need to go back to sleep,”

“I’m Rosemary,” she said loudly over Anne’s words, receiving a scolding look from the older woman. “I’ve actually been looking for you. Won’t you sit with me?”

Rosemary sat on the porch of the cottage, her chair rocking back and forth with a solemn creak. She had watched the sun set some time ago while nursing a cup of tea and some tarts from Anne’s oven. She expected Emery soon and trained her eyes on the gate leading up to the homes. The door opened and Anne emerge, bundled in a cloak and blanket that she draped over her legs once she sat in the opposing chair. For a moment they remained silent, the air between them filling with much apprehension. Finally, Rosemary spoke softly.

“I want to keep seeing him,” “I would rather you not,”

The previous night had been spent with Benjamin and Grace, his sister. Rosemary cherished the time with them, sharing with Benjamin a basic healing spell in secret. She told him to practice it often, and that as he grew stronger so would the spell. Enthralled, and not at all scared to see such wonders, Benjamin begged Rosemary to teach him more. But she could not. Explaining magic and her emergence from purgatory was frightening enough. She decided it was best not to overwhelm the children at first, and that there would be plenty of time for that in the future.

“I want to keep seeing him,” she repeated, more as a hefty statement this time. “I will come once a month after the full moon, and he will practice his gift,”

“No,” Anne said, her eyes watching through the window of the neighbor across from her. “I will not have him become corrupt with the magic taught by an escapee of purgatory...no, Rosemary. We will not do this,”

“Emery told me there was a spell book on the chair when he and the wolf arrived that night. Why was it there?”

“I told them it was a story, just a fairy tale of nonsense. Benjamin had found it in an old box that Blaise left behind. What importance does it have to you?”

“When I leave I would like to take it with me. It will help me understand what kind of warlock Blaise is,”

“And why would you need to know that information?” Anne huffed, sinking further and further into her blanket as they spoke.

“Because he is my grandson and I have a right to know, just like I have a right to teach my craft to Benjamin,” Rose stated firmly. “You are only hurting him by shielding him from his gifts,”

Anne frowned and looked away, picking a spot in the garden and staring at it instead of meeting Rose’s eyes. She knew that Rose was right...either way, it was dangerous for Benjamin to be alive with or without his magic. But she had seen what Lyra and Blaise had become, and she did not want anything to do with it. Her son would not be corrupted; his soul would stay intact.

Another hearty silence fell between them as they rocked in their chairs, and Rose watched as the moon began to rise into the sky. In the countryside, the stars twinkled magnificently, glowing like fireflies against the black atmosphere. It was peaceful here, and Rose could understand why it was important for it to not be disturbed. But Benjamin had a gift, and it could not be avoided any longer.

Rosemary saw a shadow in the distance walking up towards the gate, and the closer it got the more sad she became. Leaving Benjamin with this awful woman was not settling well with her, but she was determined to remain strong. She would see him again in a months time, and on her next journey she would bring him his own spell book. Rosemary stood and gathered her little belongings, then looked to Anne.

“Please bring me the book, my husband is here,”

Rosemary waved to Emery and moved aside as Anne stood. She vanished into the house and Rose waited patiently for her return. Emery stood in the road with his arms crossed, grinning childishly at Rose, who appeared out of her element. It was reassuring and he cherished it, and would make of her later for it.

Anne placed the book in Rose’s hand. “You keep this safe, you hear? These were his spells before he found the Book of Shadows...they are all I remember him by,”

Emery’s hands gripped the insides of Rose’s thighs, his fingers indenting the paleness of her skin and leaving behind luscious and territorial red marks. Hungrily his teeth bit at skin on her stomach, trailing his incisors along the flatness of her body, the urge to consume her growing stronger and stronger until it would become overpowering. He groaned, his voice vibrating through her flesh in an urgent growl, animalistic and taunting as he pressed against her further.

Rosemary and Emery had survived long months since her emergence from the portal in the field bellow Night Haven. Without a scar on her body she was placed delicately back into the life of humans, and through the winter and the spring months they had pretended as though the fifty years spent apart had not wavered their bond. No, if anything they were closer, retaining a deep understanding from the suffer they had endured and replacing it with a connection too valuable for words to describe. Together, Rose and Emery were one spirit, one soul. And Emery intended to remain that way forever.

Though, Rose’s mortality was a growing issue and it settled with Emery uncomfortably. Forever he would remain the twenty year old boy, ageless and immortal as the years continued on. He could not say the same for his wife. Rosemary had died at the age of twenty-three, and now, a patron of this world, her body would continue to grow without her husbands. It was a very sensitive and emotional topic for Emery and one that he thought on often. He promised himself a year with Rose before diving head first into a solution to solve this problem, and now, halfway through summer, Emery realized that it was closer than he originally anticipated.

Emery mumbled against her skin, sweet nothings that escaped from his throat and capture themselves against her flesh.

“Rosemary Frost, I can’t live without you,” “Let’s keep it that way”

Rose’s hands ruffled his hair, taking the sides of his face and bringing him up towards her on the bed. Gingerly she kissed him, never able to bring herself to accept that he wasn’t perfect, that they weren’t perfect, and no matter the darker sides to her that were making quite the appearances as of lately she was determined to cherish her moments with Emery more then ever. It was there, wrapped up within him, that she felt most safe.

“How goes it with Tak?” Emery asked, falling to her side and propping himself up on his elbow. “He’s a bit much,”

“Actually, he’s more than that. Tak is…brilliant, and his magic is so like mine its almost unreal. The way my magic reacts to his is something I’ve never experienced before…like…like a special connection, some sort of bond,”

“Do you think it has anything to do with his spell? I mean, he’s the one that created it, performed it, got you out…seems right for there to be something more there,”

“I think that’s exactly it,” Rose’s eyes gleamed with excitement speaking of Takeshi Bin. “I know that the magic he uses can be dark, some of it is plagued from a Book of Shadows…did you know he has used dark magic before? He has brands against his skin from the spells…they are both terrifying and hypnotizing,”

“Well that’s not surprising,”

“No, but,” Rose leaned back against the pillow, her eyes lost in a sea of awe. “he makes me want to try new spells…spells that I have never imagined myself doing. They may be dark, and I know that magic comes with a price…”

“I think you’d look incredible with a magic brand here and there,” Emery grinned.

“I just mean that Takeshi will help me become immortal. Hell, he might even do it himself if I can convince him,”

Emery’s expression flickered with an unhealthy jealousy. As much as he cherished the thought of Rosemary becoming ageless in appearance, forever growing old with him, a strong part of him wished her to become a vampire. It was selfish and stemmed from the deepest roots of his own greediness.

He watched the vein on her neck pulsate, heard the steady beat of her loving heart and wondered what it would be like to never hear it again. His hand brushed her arm, recognizing the warmth there that would be replaced with a coldness instead. Though her skin was pale from spending most nights awake, and slumbering during daylight hours, it would never again radiant with a kiss of summer tan. Rosemary would be dead, but she would be his princess…and she would be powerful.

“I could turn you,”

He spoke before he realized it. Rosemary’s eyes darted to his own, looking up at him in a mixed state of confusion. She sat up a bit, her head shaking. “What? Why would you say that?”

“Well why not?” “Because my magic, Emery. I couldn’t be a vampire and keep my magic, you know that,”

Emery did know and it was the whole reason he kept his ideas to himself over these months. He had never wanted to turn her before in their past life but now the feeling was strong. It would make Chandra proud and give Rose an accurate title to the throne beside him. Their lineages would be vast and any progenies would suffice in their royal world. Instead of bearing children, they would turn dozens of rightful heirs, together ruling them in England and they would do immortally. The Prince and Princess of the Striga.

“I know your magic is important to you….” “Obviously not if you would suggest something like that,”

Rose stood from the bed and began to pace the length of their bedroom, her shadow dancing from the flame of the lone candle. “I don’t ever want to become a vampire, Emery. My magic is everything to me, it’s all I have. When I was in purgatory I had nothing…all that time I couldn’t do any spell. But now? I don’t only have my magic back, but I’m stronger than before. And with Tak’s help I could keep my magic and stay with you forever. Isn’t that more important? Or is turning me the only thing you really care about?”

Emery rolled his eyes and stood as well. “It’s not the only fucking thing I care about, Rose,”

“Then why would you say that,” “Maybe because I’m a Prince, maybe because you were born to thrive in the sun and I was made to stalk the night, maybe because we can’t have kids when we’re opposing species and if I turned you then we could have all that and more, maybe because I’m the most selfish man in the whole universe and you’re gonna have to fucking deal with the fact that turning you would make ME happy. God forbid!”

“Grow up! I’d rather die than become a vampire, Emery. I love you and I love who you are, and I have never judged you for what you need to do to survive, but that is not my lifestyle, that is NOT me!”

“You say you are stronger now–” “With my magic!” “–and yet you refuse to accept the fact that as a vampire you’d be several times as strong. With my blood, you’d be unstoppable,” “And we would what, live in a manor? With guards and fancy goblets, gems and jewels, Chandra?” “Maybe one day, but we wouldn’t need to do that right now,” “You’re unbelievable. Since when did those things matter to you? Wasn’t this, our home, being together, supposed to be enough for you? Isn’t that why you brought me back?”

Emery moved in front of her, his expression reflecting an odd combination of regret for suggesting such a thing and a longing for her to understand, and comply. “I brought you back so we could be together forever. Maybe a part of me always wanted this, even back when I met you fifty years ago. This dark magic, it’s not a guarantee. If I turn you, it is,”

“How is it a guarantee when I might not even survive the change?” “You will survive because you’re strong,”

Rose shook her head. She was angry and shaking, upset about the fact that they were fighting to begin with, and more devastated at the very thought of living again without her magic. Now that she had it, she would never let it go. Not for anything, or anyone. Not even Emery.