Paul lowered his voice and continued, "There is no matter, no time there, we can only exist as souls connected, unable to distance ourselves from each other or hide from each other—nothing but our own form—I think you understand what I'm saying."
He was a little embarrassed.
"Soul space?" Mariana repeated softly, her fingertips unconsciously tracing the rim of the teacup. "This is a realm beyond the reach of ordinary magic."
"We spent… a very long time there, time simply doesn't exist there." Paul's gaze was calm. "From hostility to coexistence, from wariness to dependence, Frostine went from being an enemy to… a close family member."
Mariana asked, "I'm guessing it includes other people too?"
"Yes, that's right." Paul blushed slightly.
"We weren't able to return to the real world until Catherine's subordinate, Olfina, found us through telepathy—she also entered that space to bring us back, and then it took a long time before the exit reopened, uh... you know..."
Mariana sat motionless on the sofa, as if frozen in place by an invisible magic.
The firelight flickered across her face, reflecting an expression of disbelief. Her fingers were still resting on the rim of the teacup, but she had long forgotten its existence.
"Soul space... six people..." she murmured to herself, her voice so soft it was almost swallowed by the crackling of the fire, "You... couldn't be separated, didn't have time... to become family?"
She looked up and her gaze fell on Paul's face. Even this worldly-wise witch needed time to process the information her son had to say.
After a long while, she slowly closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then slowly exhaled.
When she opened her eyes again, a hint of weary tenderness appeared in them.
"Fate," she said with a wry smile, "always unfolds its path in the most bizarre ways. If anyone else had said these things to you, I would have thought they were crazy."
"But I believe in you. Since fate has tied you and those girls together on the same rope, it is both your luck and your responsibility."
Her tone became serious: "My child, you may have a thousand choices, but there is one I must tell you—do not let any of them down. They have accompanied you through those long years of your soul, and they are no longer ordinary wives. They are your light and your anchor."
Paul listened quietly, a long-lost warmth welling up in his heart. He nodded solemnly: "I promise you, Mother. I will never let any of them down in this life."
Mariana sighed softly, raised her hand and gently stroked Paul's cheek, her gesture as tender as if he were still the little boy he had been years ago.
Just as she was about to say something, Paul suddenly remembered something.
"By the way, Frostine also has another name— Coleridge. She said that before meeting me, she always referred to herself as Coleridge, but Frostine was the name given to her by her deceased parents. Since we are both members of the Arcane Society, are you familiar with the name Coleridge?"
Mariana's body stiffened abruptly.
"You mean… she uses the name ' Coleridge '?" Her voice lowered, filled with disbelief.
"Yes." Paul already knew the answer from his mother's reaction.
Mariana slowly leaned back on the sofa, and a few images from the past flashed through her mind— the taciturn female figure in the Arcane Society, the icy bodyguard beside Antonio, and those gray-blue eyes that never revealed any emotion…
" Coleridge …" she murmured, her voice filled with shock, "So she's Frostine?"
She looked up at Paul abruptly, her eyes filled with astonishment: "That Ice Witch... became your wife?"
It's unbelievable that the ruthless killer, whom even she feared, would become such a crucial part of Paul's destiny.
Mariana's previous tenderness was instantly replaced by an almost cold vigilance.
"Paul," her voice was low and tense, "you must answer me—are you sure Coleridge …or Frostine, is truly with you? Is she not acting under orders, not just infiltrating again?"
She stared into her son's eyes as if trying to see into his soul to see if he was being deceived.
"What do you mean by 'lurking'?" Paul asked, puzzled.
"You don't understand her." Mariana's fingertips tapped lightly on the rim of her teacup, the rhythm rapid. "Back then, during the internal strife within the Gabella royal family, the current Emperor Antonio vied for the throne with his brother Felix. Everyone thought Coleridge was just a lady-in-waiting to Felix, but she was actually Antonio's spy. She remained silent and hidden for years, secretly informing Antonio, and ultimately ended Felix's life with her own hands. Coleridge played an indispensable role in Antonio's ascension to the throne; she was the sharpest blade behind that storm."
Mariana's voice trembled slightly: "She would betray her former master? Paul, she's no ordinary person, she's a witch, an assassin, a master of infiltration."
She suddenly paused, a deeper chill flashing in her eyes, as if she had touched upon some unsettling truth.
Since her conversation with Antonio before her departure, Mariana had suspected that the Emperor already knew about her relationship with Paul.
Could it be that Coleridge relayed some kind of information back to Gabella?
Thinking of this, she immediately asked, " Have you mentioned me to Coleridge?"
Paul shook his head. "I never mentioned you in front of her."
Mariana felt somewhat relieved.
Paul said calmly, "I understand your concerns, but Frostine can absolutely trust that what we've been through is beyond words. Her transformation wasn't an act; it's the result of years of sharing life and death, breathing together."
Mariana's brow remained furrowed as she stared intently at Paul: "But she's a witch, my child. She knows how to manipulate people. Are you sure that's not just another, more sophisticated disguise?"
"I'm sure!" Paul looked directly into his mother's eyes. "In the realm of the soul, I felt her regret and struggle, as well as her yearning for freedom. She didn't approach me for beauty or power, but truly found a place where her soul could rest."
Mariana was silent for a moment, then finally sighed softly. She raised her hand, a glint of light flashing at her fingertips, and a wisp of cold air condensed into fine frost in the air before dissipating.
"A witch's beauty is never just skin deep." Her tone was slightly cold, carrying a warning. "It's the bewitching of the soul, the hook of the eyes, the spell of the breath. Your father was once proud and clear-headed, but the moment he saw me, he could never look away."
She gazed at her son and cautioned him, "I believe what you see is the real her, but remember—don't let beauty cloud your judgment."