Silence.
The dim light of the cave barely reflected off the mirror’s surface, but even in the darkness, she could see it.
“….”
Her fingers trembled as they traced the edge of the mirror, her reflection staring back at her—foreign and yet unmistakably hers.
Her skin.
Smooth. Clear.
Not sickly, not pale—not the fragile, exhausted face she had seen her entire life.
Lucavion’s voice hummed lightly beside her.
“Ah, wait… you can’t see right.”
Before she could even question him, his hand moved—fingers flicking with an effortless grace.
And then—
Light.
A soft, gentle glow spilled from his palm, washing over them in a quiet, steady starlight.
The cave brightened.
The mirror in her hands gleamed.
And in that moment, she saw everything.
Her skin.
Continue your saga on My Virtual Library Empire
Smooth, radiant, as if she had been sculpted from untouched light.
Her cheeks, no longer sunken with sickness.
Her eyes—clear, bright, golden amber, like molten fire instead of dull exhaustion.
Her lips, her nose, the sharp lines of her jaw—
All of it.
Whole.
Healthy.
Like she had never suffered at all.
“Ah…”
The world blurred.
Her vision swam, her breath stuttering in her chest.
She felt it before she realized it.
A single tear—warm, silent—slipped down her cheek.
“Wh-what…”
Her fingers curled tightly around the mirror, as if it might disappear if she didn’t hold on.
From beside her, Lucavion’s voice came, smooth and steady.
“See?”
Her throat closed.
Her body shook—not from fear, not from sickness, but from something so much heavier.
“Am I…”
Her voice cracked.
“Am I really cured?”
Lucavion’s golden gaze met hers.
He nodded, slow, deliberate.
“Yes. You are.”
Aeliana’s fingers clenched tighter.
“Really…?” Her voice wavered, breathless. “This is not a dream, right?”
Lucavion tilted his head slightly—and then smirked.
Mocking. Teasing.
“Can’t you feel it?”
Aeliana staggered.
Her knees felt weak, her body light, her thoughts fraying at the edges.
“Really?”
The words tumbled from her lips, whispered, raw, desperate—
As if saying them out loud would make it real.
And then—
Memories.
Crashing down like an avalanche.
The countless treatments. The endless, suffocating expectations.
The voices of doctors, healers, alchemists—
“This medicine should help.”
“She might improve with time.”
“There is a new treatment from the capital—”
“We cannot guarantee results.”
“We have done all we can.”
And the worst of them—
“I’m sorry. There’s nothing more we can do.”
She had long stopped hoping.
She had long stopped believing.
And yet—
And yet—
It had been Lucavion who had ignited that hope again.
Only to shatter it.
To make her doubt.
To make her hurt.
Her fingers tightened around the mirror.
Her lips trembled.
And for the first time—
She didn’t know whether to scream at him—
Or cry.
She couldn’t believe it.
She refused to believe it.
This had to be a trick. A lie. Another cruel, elaborate deception.
Lucavion was a master at twisting words, at playing with people, at making her feel things she didn’t want to feel.
So how could she trust him now?
Her grip on the mirror tightened, her heart slamming against her ribs.
‘He’s lying.’
‘He has to be lying.’
He had given her hope before—only to rip it away.
What if this was just another game?
What if he was using her again, feeding her false dreams just to break her down later?
Aeliana’s breath shook.
“I…” Her voice wavered, filled with something raw, something vulnerable.
“I don’t… believe you.”
Lucavion didn’t look offended.
Didn’t look surprised.
Didn’t even try to argue.
Instead—
He smiled.
A small, knowing smile. One that made something deep inside her chest tighten.
And then—he spoke.
“Can’t you really feel it?”
Aeliana blinked.
Lucavion tilted his head slightly, his black eyes gleaming as he continued, his voice smooth, patient—as if he was waiting for her to understand on her own.
“Like how easily you can move?”
Her breath hitched.
“Normally, before—” his voice was quiet, steady, “whenever you needed to move, you would be slow and tired. And I—”
His lips curled slightly.
“I would have to carry you. Most of the time.”
Aeliana’s fingers twitched.
“But now, isn’t it different?”
Lucavion’s eyes never left her.
“Can’t you feel the vitality?”
“Like now, you can finally feel the strength in your body?”
His words sank into her skin.
“You can finally breathe clearly. Without coughing. Without feeling like your lungs are burning. Without struggling to take in air.”
Aeliana stilled.
“Like how you no longer feel the need to scratch yourself?”
Her eyes widened.
“Have you not noticed those?”
And suddenly—
Everything clicked.
That strange feeling she had woken up with. The lightness in her limbs. The absence of pain.
The way she had stood up so easily.
The way she had yelled at him without gasping for breath.
The way her body wasn’t shaking, aching, screaming at her to stop.
Her hands weren’t trembling.
Her chest wasn’t tight.
She felt whole.
And the realization—
Knocked the air from her lungs.
Her breath shuddered.
Her fingers dug into the mirror, gripping it so tightly that her knuckles turned white.
She could feel it.
She could feel it.
The strength in her body, the energy flowing through her limbs, the complete absence of the weakness, the pain, the exhaustion that had been her reality for so long.
And yet—
She couldn’t stop shaking.
She couldn’t control her face, couldn’t stop her lips from trembling, couldn’t hold back the way her vision blurred—
Tears.
They welled up too fast, too suddenly.
She bit down on her lip, desperately trying to keep herself together, to keep from breaking, to keep from—
“You don’t need to hold it in, you know.”
Lucavion’s voice was quiet. Smooth. Unshaken.
“It’s just me and you here.”
Aeliana froze.
Her vision swam. Her fingers curled tighter.
Lucavion watched her, his black eyes steady, calm, knowing.
And then—he smiled.
“But if you don’t want me,” he added lightly, teasing but not cruel, “I can turn my head and close my ears.”
That—
That was what broke her.
A choked sound escaped her throat, and before she could stop herself—
Her legs gave out.
She fell to her knees.
And the tears came.
Unstoppable. Relentless.
The kind of tears that weren’t loud, weren’t dramatic— but simply poured.
Down her cheeks. Onto her hands. Onto the mirror.
She couldn’t stop them.
She didn’t know how to.
Lucavion tilted his head slightly, his voice quiet, soft—but still carrying that infuriating amusement.
Then, softly—too softly—
“See?”
His voice reached her through the haze of her shaking breaths.
“Haven’t I kept my promise?”
Aeliana squeezed her eyes shut, her fingers tightening on the mirror, her breath shuddering as another sob escaped.
Lucavion’s voice lowered, smooth, steady—assured.
“Aren’t you cured?”
A broken, breathless sound left her lips.
And then—
She sobbed.