Viviane gritted her teeth, her mother's words digging into the softest part of her heart, shaking her from the inside. Doubts she didn't want to face began to crawl in.
Did Seamus even love her? Even after seeing her like this, after she tried to kill him?
She didn't know...
Isolde saw it instantly. That crack. That hesitation. Her smile curved, mocking and cruel.
"Look at you, my daughter," Isolde started to circle her again like a vulture. "My failure."
"The only thing I see right now is a child still begging for scraps of affection. Still clinging to a boy who only sees you as a monster."
Isolde reached out lazily and plucked one of Viviane's threads. It snapped between her fingers like nothing.
"This," Isolde held the broken thread up as if it were a trophy, "is exactly what your love is. Fragile. Delicate. One touch and it falls apart."
"Seamus is ours now. Stop clinging to that childish dream. Learn how to share, or you'll end up with nothing."
Viviane snarled, "Share?! Don't you dare call crumbs sharing! I've watched you take everything from me, and I'm supposed to be grateful for the scraps you throw my way?"
"Oh, please," Isolde rolled her eyes as if seeing the most boring performance, "We have a deal and it's not that hard to follow it if you have even an ounce of brain. These stupid things wouldn't have happened in the first place."
"Our deal is just his blood! You had sex with Seamus! My love and my life!" Viviane struggled again, this time the threads in her body started to snap but her mother didn't even flinch.
"Oh honey, I'm just doing what his body wanted." Isolde gets close to her, her hand brushes against her cheek slowly, "And it seemed like he not only wanted you, but both of us, and more. I can see it in those greedy eyes."
"Shut up! Shut up! You are always lying in my head. You tried to break me into pieces with your little mind game but it never works."
She grinned, "That's the reason why you always tried to destroy me, aren't you? You can't control me and you will never be!"
Viviane tore herself free from her own strings with a scream and leapt at Isolde. But her mother dissolved into petals of roses, scattering in the wind before reforming into burning red moths that swarmed Viviane.
The fire was everywhere, clinging to her like it wanted to devour her whole.
"Ahhhhh!!! Get it off! Get it off!"
Her screams split the air as the flames consumed her.
Isolde sighed in disappointment, "Don't you learn anything from me in these hundreds of years? How could my daughter be this idiotic?"
She snapped her fingers and the butterflies disintegrated into glitter, leaving Viviane collapsed on the ground.
Viviane gasped for air, every breath scorching her lungs. Her body felt like it was still burning. She couldn't even lift her head.
Isolde's heels clicked softly as she approached. Her gaze was full of disdain.
"If you fight me with a cold head, this won't happen... This is what love does to someone Viviane. Blinding, exhilarating, addicting, and then it will pull you into the deepest of despair when it doesn't reach your expectation."
"You are just like I once was. Desperate. Willing to believe in beautiful lies because the truth is unbearable. But I learned. I let go of those illusions, and now nothing can hurt me."
Viviane smirked instead. "And then, I will be like you?" She let out a laugh, bitter and sharp. "I'd rather die than become a miserable woman like you. Mistaking loneliness for salvation."
Isolde's left eye twitched. "You already are. You might not realize it, but you're far more similar to me than you'll ever admit. Blood is thicker than water, remember?"
She snapped her fingers, and tendrils lined with thorned roses erupted from the ground, coiling tightly around Viviane's wrists and ankles. They lifted her into the air until she was at the same height as her mother.
"I'm not like you! I will never be like you!" Viviane gritted her teeth, struggling violently against the bindings.
But her eyes told a different story. They were clouded, confused, as if Isolde's words had touched something deep inside her, a truth she didn't want to face.
Isolde saw it too and simply smiled, ready to twist the blade deeper. But before she could speak, a dark gate tore open in the air beside them, a swirling black pool floating ominously in the dream world.
Seamus stumbled out of it, wide-eyed and completely lost as he took in the scene before him. His gaze instantly fell on Viviane, and he rushed forward.
"This—oh my god, Viviane! Are you alright?"
He tried to pry the tendrils from her limbs, his hands trembling as black blood seeped from the cuts in her wrists and ankles.
"Seamus…" Viviane's voice was soft, almost ashamed, unable to meet his eyes.
"Let her go, Isolde!" he shouted, tugging at the bindings.
But the tendrils were too strong, like iron wrapped in living thorns. His strength meant nothing here.
"Careful, Seamus," Isolde said in a tone laced with mockery. "If you start bleeding, my daughter might not be able to control herself."
She snapped her fingers again, and the tendrils instantly dissolved into rose petals. Viviane dropped, but Seamus caught her and lowered her carefully to the ground, still holding her close.
"Are you alright? Why are you burning like this?" he asked, looking at the burns on her hands.
His expression shifted, anger and confusion mixing as he turned to Isolde. "And why are you two fighting? Aren't you mother and daughter?"
"Oh, darling, I'm here to help you," Isolde replied with a soft, syrupy voice. "Those burns aren't my doing. They're hers."
She gestured lazily at Viviane. "You remember she tried to kill you, don't you? She's not in her right mind. You shouldn't be this close to her."
Seamus frowned, his arms tightening protectively around Viviane. "Still… this isn't the way to help me," he said quietly, glancing down at Viviane who had been silent this whole time.
Then he looked up again, suspicion dawning. "Also… Is Viviane even real right now? Or is this just another one of your tricks to deceive me?"
Viviane managed a bitter smile and grasped his hand with her burned fingers. "Seamus," she whispered, "tell her we need to go home… I want to go home."
"Of course," he said immediately, squeezing her shoulder. "You hear that, Isolde? We want to go back to reality. Now get us out of here."
Isolde crossed her arms, looking amused. "Understood. You've already fulfilled your purpose here, Seamus. I'll send you both back to reality."
"Purpose?" His brows furrowed. "What do you mean by that?"
"I thought Madeline already told you about the power of your blood. That snake never knows when to shut her mouth," Isolde said with a shrug.
Then her voice turned smooth, almost teasing. "Also… let's spend the night together again, Seamus. You do realize our nights aren't just part of this dream, don't you?"
"Huh? What are you—"
Before he could finish, Isolde snapped her fingers again.
The world went black.
***
"Mom? Are we going to see the sunset again?"
The small voice of a little girl echoed softly. Seamus could only see her back—long red hair blowing in the wind as she stood on a grassy hill beneath an orange sky.
"Of course, darling. As much as you want," came the woman's gentle reply. She had silver hair that glimmered in the dying light as she turned to her daughter with a smile.
They looked happy, whole, and perfect. And as Seamus watched them walk toward the horizon, he couldn't help but wonder what tragedy awaited them in the darkness beyond the sky.
***
Seamus gasped, jolting upright as sweat drenched his body. He looked around in shock.
He was in a room he recognized. Victorian in style, ornate and heavy with detail. A fireplace crackled in front of him, casting warm light over plush sofas and a table set with a half-full glass of wine. It was as if someone had been sitting there, observing him for a long time.
"I'm… back," he muttered, staring at his trembling hands. He gulped, trying to steady his breath.
But the question lingered in his mind, cold and sharp.
"…This isn't a dream… right?"
Because there wasn't much difference. And he knew Isolde wouldn't ever let him go so easily.