The room was a blend of purity and enchantment.
The walls, draped in white gauzy curtains, shimmered faintly as if touched by moonlight.
Candles flickered softly, their flames casting dancing shadows across the room.
The air smelled of lavender and sage, a calming, soothing scent.
There were ancient books stacked neatly in one corner, and soft, crystal chimes hanging near the open window, catching the breeze and creating a gentle, ethereal melody.
At the center of the room was a massive bed, draped in white silk and lace, the perfect cradle for Rose's delicate form.
Lucifer stood by the window, watching her. His eyes never left her as she slept, her hair fanned out like a halo around her head.
She looked peaceful, vulnerable in her unconscious state, a far cry from the force she had become.
His chest tightened as he watched her, feeling the weight of his desire and the looming fear that something might tear her away from him.
He ran his fingers through his long, fiery hair, the strands tangled from exhaustion.
His usual arrogance had been replaced with uncertainty, his face more worn than usual.
He wanted to stay by her side, to protect her, to never let go, but he couldn't. Not yet.
The sharp clink of glass pulled him from his thoughts. He turned toward the white witch, who was busy preparing the ritual.
The flickering candlelight reflected off the small vials of herbs she was handling, and her voice was low, purposeful as she spoke to her assistant.
"Make sure you get the nightshade in perfect proportion," she instructed, her hands moving with practiced ease. "The last thing we need is to cause her harm."
Lucifer's gaze narrowed as he listened, the words hanging heavy in the air.
Fifty-fifty. He didn't care. He had made his decision. The risks didn't matter. Not when it came to Rose.
He couldn't lose her again, not after everything.
He approached the table, his boots clicking softly against the stone floor. His eyes flicked from the witch's movements to Rose's still figure.
She was so close, yet so far. He could almost feel the pull between them, the invisible thread that had once bound them in the depths of the cave.
He wanted to reach out, to grab her and never let go. But he had to be patient.
The witch glanced up from her preparations, meeting his gaze. "You understand the risks, Lucifer. If this doesn't work—"
"I know the risks," he interrupted, his voice low, steady. "I don't care. Do it."
She didn't flinch at his harsh tone, her face unreadable.
She gave a slight nod and returned to her task, speaking quietly to her assistant as they worked in sync.
Lucifer didn't move, didn't speak. His eyes were glued to Rose, and the air around him seemed to hum with the energy of his desire, his need.
He wasn't about to lose her. Not again. Not ever.
The cold hit Rose immediately, sharp and unforgiving, as she found herself back in the cave.
She gasped involuntarily, her breath swirling in the frozen air like a phantom.
Her boots crunched against the frost-covered ground as she glanced around, taking in the jagged icicles hanging precariously above, ready to impale with the slightest tremor.
She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself instinctively, though the gesture did little against the biting chill.
She moved without hesitation this time, her steps confident and deliberate, her breath puffing out in short bursts.
The faint echo of her footsteps reverberated through the icy cavern. She could feel it—that familiar pull guiding her. The throne wasn't far.
When she reached it, Rose stopped abruptly, her stomach knotting.
The throne loomed ahead, tall and menacing, its edges razor-sharp and glinting in the dim light like the fangs of some great beast.
She stared, captivated, as the ice shimmered with an otherworldly glow, almost alive.
Her fingers twitched at her sides, the inexplicable urge to touch it clawing at her mind. Slowly, she took a hesitant step forward.
"You like it, don't you?"
The voice sliced through the silence like a knife. Rose froze, her muscles locking.
Her head snapped around, eyes wide, narrowing as they landed on the figure standing in the shadows.
The woman emerged with an unsettling grace, her every movement fluid and deliberate.
She was breathtaking—an almost ethereal presence that seemed too perfect to be real.
Her hair cascaded in waves of white and silver, shimmering like moonlight, and her face was obscured by what looked like a mask of gold and white.
The veiny patterns trailing down to her jawline made it unclear whether it was truly a mask or part of her face.
Her robes, pristine and intricate, wrapped her in an aura of untouchable power.
"Who are you?" Rose demanded, her voice cutting through the still air. She squared her shoulders, though her fists clenched tightly at her sides.
The woman didn't answer immediately. She tilted her head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at her lips, then gestured for Rose to follow. "Walk with me."
Rose hesitated, her nails digging into her palms. "What if I don't want to?"
The woman's head turned slightly, her unseen gaze boring into Rose. "You will."
The commanding tone sent a chill down Rose's spine, one that had nothing to do with the cold.
Her jaw tightened, but she relented, her steps begrudging as she followed.
As they walked, the woman's voice broke the silence, calm yet weighted. "That throne," she said, her tone deceptively light, "was made for you. Every edge, every curve. It's yours."
Rose's brows furrowed, and her steps faltered. "What does that even mean? I don't—"
"You were meant to sit upon it," the woman interjected, her voice hardening like ice cracking under pressure.
"To take my place. But your siblings—my other children—had other plans. They feared you. Feared what you would become. So, they betrayed me."
Rose stopped abruptly, her chest tightening. "Siblings? Children? What are you talking about?"
The woman turned, her movements sharp yet elegant.
She smiled faintly, though the expression carried no warmth. "They separated my soul from my body, out of greed. And now I need you to restore what was stolen."
Rose stepped back, her boots scraping against the icy ground. Anger and confusion flared in her eyes. "Why me? I don't even know you!"
The woman's expression didn't waver. "Because you are me. And I am you."
Rose's breath hitched, her heart pounding. She opened her mouth to protest, but the woman raised a hand.
A swirling portal appeared behind her, its light pulsating rhythmically, like the beat of a massive heart.
"Step through," the woman instructed, her voice brooking no argument. "Relive your life. Learn who you are. I'll be waiting on the other side."
Rose's gaze darted between the woman and the portal. Her chest heaved with uncertainty, her fists tightening at her sides.
Something about the portal seemed alive, its pull undeniable. Her jaw clenched as she took a step forward, her legs shaky but determined.
Without another word, she stepped into the light, its brilliance swallowing her whole.
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