Everest POV
As the early morning dawn met the sun, a golden glow spilled across the earth and into the library, casting a warm, magical light through the windows.
The fire in the fireplace was still gently smoldering, radiating comfort. On the large sofa lay Everest and Willow, both fast asleep, wrapped in each other's arms. The blanket covered them, soft and warm, cocooning them in peace and safety. Willow rested her head on Everest's bare chest, her breath calm, her body still. It didn't matter to them that it was their wedding day. At that moment, nothing mattered except the serenity they shared.
While Everest slept, he began to dream. He found himself standing in a hospital.
It looked familiar—eerily so. Then it clicked. It was the forest hospital—the one where elves, witches, and fairies sought medical care. But something strange pulled his attention: the piercing wail of a newborn crying. It echoed down the hallway, urging him forward. He followed the sound until it led him to a room. Slowly, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.
They couldn't see him, but he could see everything.
There, on the hospital bed, lay Evelyn—Willow's mother—cradling a newborn wrapped in a white blanket. Dorian, her father, stood beside her, drenched in sweat but glowing with pride and joy. Everest's breath caught. This was the day Willow was born. But why was he seeing it?
Evelyn looked exhausted—her hair clinging to her damp forehead, her face glistening with sweat as she gazed lovingly at her baby girl. A nurse worked quietly in the background, cleaning up. But then, something shifted.
The baby—Willow—suddenly stopped breathing.
Panic set in. Evelyn's voice rose in alarm. Dorian shouted for help. The nurse rushed over. The air thickened with dread. Everest moved closer, his chest tightening. The nurse's expression said everything before she even spoke. Then came the devastating words:
"I'm sorry, your Highness… her heart has stopped."
Everest felt the color drain from his own face. His knees weakened. Tears welled in his eyes as he watched the nurse gently place the lifeless newborn back into Evelyn's arms. Evelyn sobbed, her voice breaking. Dorian stood frozen, shattered.
"This can't be," Everest whispered. "Willow is alive. She's with me. How… how can this be real?"
The room suddenly began to spin. The walls melted into shadows and reformed—he was no longer in the hospital.
He stood in a castle chamber—familiar and cold. In the center of the room was a small, wooden glass-topped coffin. It was surrounded by beautiful flower arrangements. His chest ached with recognition. He stepped closer. His heart pounded.
There, inside the coffin, lay a baby girl—dressed in a delicate princess gown, a soft pink headband over her tiny forehead. Everest's breath caught in his throat.
It was Willow. Or… it looked like her. But this made no sense. How could she be here, like this, dead?
Then a voice spoke behind him.
"This is what happened. I know it is scary to see it"
Everest spun around. His fists clenched. That voice—smooth and cold—belonged to one person he despised most.
Lord Lorcand.
"What are you doing here?" Everest growled, rage simmering in his voice.
Lorcand chuckled darkly. "To show you the truth of an a memory what the Villa keep from the world? This isn't a dream, Everest. You're walking through the past… a piece of truth the Vila tried to bury."
"I don't believe a single word from your mouth," Everest snapped.
"You don't have to," Lorcand said, voice calm. "But it doesn't change what happened. Willow died that day of her birth and she was dead and thank to me she is alive today with my blood keeping her awake"
Everest's confusion deepened. "What are you saying?" he demanded. But then his attention was drawn elsewhere.
Queen Evelyn and King Dorian entered the room. Everest froze in shock. Standing beside them—a younger Lord Lorcand.
His heart raced. Two of them? How was it possible?
"I told you," the present Lorcand said behind him. "This already happened."
Everest stared as the memory unfolded before him.
"Please, Lord Lorcand… help our daughter. Bring her back," Evelyn begged, her voice raw with grief. " you're the only one who has aches to the death and could bring our daughter back"
"You see?" Lorcand said. "They were desperate. I warned them. I told them the cost."
"We'll do anything!" Dorian cried. "Just bring her back. Her heart stopped at birth—we can't lose her."
Lorcand's younger self stood before them, composed and calculating.
"It isn't that easy to rise the dead it is dangerous thing" he said, "And if I bring her back I can't promise you that she'll be the same. I'll need to enter the underworld, search for her soul, and bind her with magic. Once I found her I would bring her back with my blood and my blood will run through her… and that means darkness will live in her, too. She will not grow up as the same girl you lost. She would still be an Vila Fairy but she will not be pure and would have dark magic in her "
Everest's chest burned. His hands shook. How could this be true, the beautiful Willow he knew has black magic in her and was connected to the darkness.
This… this was unthinkable.
"No," he muttered. "This can't be true."
"It is," Lorcand said coldly. "They begged me for her life, and I gave it. But what lives inside her now is not pure. It's bound to me… to death itself."
Everest stood frozen, his heart torn. What did this mean for the woman he was about to marry? For their future? Was she truly Willow—or a dark reflection born from forbidden magic?
Everest's eyes fell on the scene before him. The younger Lord Lorcand stood by the coffin, gently lifting the deathly still baby into his arms.
"Willow is the last of our pieces," Evelyn begged through her tears, clutching her husband. "If she dies, we all die. Our Villa cannot bear many children, and Willow—my daughter—was our only chance. I couldn't let her go."
Everest could see the pain in their eyes as they pleaded with the man.
King Dorian stood tall beside his wife, holding her arms as if anchoring her with strength.
"If I bring her back," Lord Lorcand said coldly, "there will be a price. Your daughter must come to me when she is of age. When she discovers what magic lies within her, I cannot promise she'll remain the innocent Vila fairy you believe her to be."
It was twisted. Everest gritted his teeth.
"You sick man," he spat. "Willow will never belong to you. She's my wife—not your property."
His rage surged. He no longer cared whether this was a dream or reality. In a blink, Everest stormed over to Lorcand, grabbed him by the throat, and punched him hard, sending him crashing to the floor.
"I don't care what promises they made!" Everest shouted. "Willow is mine. She belongs with me!"
Lord Lorcand struggled to rise, blood dripping from his nose. But before he could stand properly, Everest tackled him again, bringing him down and striking him furiously.
"You don't understand—" Lorcand tried to explain, but Everest didn't care. He struck him again and again. Lorcand managed a few blows in return, hitting Everest in the ribs, but Everest—blinded by fury—didn't back down. His rage wasn't only for Lorcand, but also for Evelyn, for making such a deal.
Then Lorcand landed a solid punch to Everest's stomach, knocking the wind from him. Everest crumpled, gasping for air—and then he noticed something strange.
The ground was no longer stone, but black dust. Screams echoed around him. As he looked up, his eyes widened in horror.
They were no longer in the castle.
They stood in a vast underground world—lava glowed in the distance, and tortured cries filled the air.
Everest tried to rise from the dust, his limbs heavy. In front of him stood the younger Lord Lorcand, still holding Willow's lifeless baby body.
The older Lord Lorcand wiped blood from his face. "This is where I brought Willow back to life," he said.
Everest turned to the scene, fists clenched, breath ragged. He watched as the younger Lorcand laid the baby on a black stone altar, placed his hand on her chest, and began chanting in an ancient tongue. The ground rumbled. A chilling cold filled the air.
Souls—dark, whispering shadows—appeared out of nowhere, swirling in a circle above Willow's body. There were so many that Everest could no longer see her.
"What is happening?" Everest asked, stunned.
"I'm calling her soul back to her body," Lorcand replied. "Willow is among them. Once I find her, I must act quickly."
Everest watched, heart pounding, as Lorcand found her tiny soul and drew it back into her body. The swirling spirits vanished—but what came next was horrifying.
Lorcand drew a silver blade, cut his own wrist, and let his blood drip into the baby's mouth.
Nausea rose in Everest's throat. He looked away, falling to the ground, burying his head in his hands. The woman he loved… her life had been restored by this wicked man—this monster, known for slaughter and ruin.
"I'm sorry, Everest," Lorcand said. "But without me, you wouldn't have known her. There would be no wedding. None of this would exist."
Though sickened, Everest lifted his head and looked back. The blood worked. Her skin, once icy blue, turned warm pink. Her chest rose with a gasp, and then she cried.
"Why?" Everest asked, tears streaming down his face. "Why am I learning this on my wedding day? Even if this is a dream… it feels real."
Lorcand turned to him. "I saw the way you looked at her. That's why you must know—Willow is not the woman you think…. She holds great power."
Everest stood, trembling. "You want me to believe you? You murdered her uncle Clyde. You burned the forest. You killed her father—King Dorian!"
But Lorcand didn't flinch. "I didn't kill King Dorian". He shouted angry " He escaped the fire. And that fire—it wasn't me. It was Willow. Her magic spiraled out of control. Her parents tried to suppress it. They begged me to remove it, but I warned them: the older she grew, the more dangerous it would become."
Everest swallowed hard, his voice hoarse. "I don't believe you. A child couldn't start such a fire."
Lorcand chuckled darkly. "Fine. Don't believe me. But if you want answers, return to the Vila castle. The only room untouched by war and ruin was the one where her coffin still lies. Her baby dress is still there—pink, with the flowers. See for yourself."
Everest turned back just in time to see baby Willow gasp—alive. But something was wrong. Her dress was no longer pink, but black. Her eyes… black as obsidian.
"What did you do?" Everest cried. "Why are her eyes like that?"
"It's the black magic. Her eyes turned back after a time," Lorcand said simply.
He could not take this anymore and started to clench his head with his two hands and close his eyes. It was too much and he didn't want to believe a soul what that man said. He heard Willow start to cry louder until he felt himself drawn back, and it was almost like something was choking him, and he gasped for air as he awoke from his deep sleep.
Willow POV
From her deep sleep, Willow was startled awake by the sound of Everest gasping for air. Her eyes flew open as she turned quickly toward him. He sat upright, coughing harshly, his body heaving for breath. Panic gripped her.
"Everest, what's wrong?" she asked, voice laced with fear. She reached out instinctively, wrapping an arm around his upper back, gently rubbing in hopes it would help.
After a few tense minutes, his breathing began to settle. His throat was dry as he rasped, "I'm okay."
Worry darkened her features. She pulled the blanket tighter over her bare chest and studied him. "Was it a nightmare?" she asked softly.
Everest didn't answer immediately. He ran a hand over his thick black eyebrows, his mind still trapped somewhere between the dream and reality.
"I was… in a dream," he finally muttered, more to himself than to her.
Willow's concern deepened. She could feel that something wasn't right. It was their wedding day, just a few hours away—yet the man she loved looked haunted.
"Everest," she said gently, trying to meet his gaze. "What happened? Is it… is it me?"
Her voice cracked a little with the question, vulnerable and unsure.
His head snapped toward her, alarmed. "No," he said firmly, reaching out. His fingers found her cheek, tracing softly along her skin. "No, it's not you. I just had a bad dream, that's all."
His blue ocean eyes locked onto hers, the sincerity in his voice grounding her.
"I love you," he said, voice rough but steady. "Never think you've done anything wrong. If something was wrong, I'd tell you. You need to know—you are my everything."
Her cheeks flushed at his words, her heart swelling.
"I love you too," she whispered, voice thick with emotion.
He was her home, her anchor, and in that moment, the world melted away. She leaned in, brushing her lips against his. Their kiss was tender at first, like a promise, but quickly deepened.
Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as he kissed her back, his hand moving to cradle the side of her head, guiding her with gentle urgency.
She felt the heat of his body move over hers as he laid her back onto the soft cushions of the sofa. Her breath caught in her throat as his lips broke from hers, but their foreheads stayed pressed together. Their eyes held the moment, a quiet storm of love and desperation.
Then, she felt him—his need, his presence—pressing into her with aching slowness. A soft moan escaped her lips, born of pure instinct and the intensity of what they shared.
He moved with love.
Time seemed to slow. Every breath, every heartbeat, every touch felt infinite—etched into her soul.