What is the most valuable thing in the life of a married couple? It is the love and companionship they share, the support they give each other and the emotional bonding that keeps them together.
Is it the nights spent cuddled up together, whispering sweet nothings in candlelight? Is it the hug when the wife cooks, the spices simmering with the comfort of love? Or is it just the simple pleasure of walking through a market, fingers intertwined, stealing glances between conversations.
These are the moments that paint love in vivid colors.
But ask any couple what their most cherished memory is and they'll tell you the same thing—[]
Our child.
For Elina Ashwon, that precious moment was drawing near.
El Dora was an exquisite display of wealth and power. Castles reached the heavens, golden roofs glowed in the sun, and the streets smelled of lavender, incense, and pastry. Aristocrats laughed in great halls and on marble streets.
But beneath El Dora's dazzling veneer lurked a dark secret—[]
If you live here you're either rich or you've gone astray.
Among the glittering splendor, there was a deep and insidious darkness. Slavery, human trafficking, and spirit chaining were just a few of the crimes committed behind heavy curtains and gilded walls. While the nobles dined on the finest foods, countless souls struggled to survive in the undercity.
But even on the darkest night, a single star can shine.
And in El Dora, that star was the Ashwon family.
Unlike the other noble families, they were not admired for their money or political power, but for something far rarer—[]
Kindness.
They said Elina Ashwon was the kindest person who ever lived.
She did not turn her back on the plight of the undercity. She refused to pretend that the undercity—the slums buried under El Dora's shiny streets—did not exist.
Instead, she walked into its very heart.
A shrill wind blew through the dark alleys of the undercity, carrying the smell of smoke and earth and dejection. Not gold paved the streets here, but cracked stone and broken dreams. The air was heavy with the voices of the desperate—children crying for food, merchants bickering over stale bread, whispers of those planning their next survival.
But, bleak though it was, the moment Elina Ashwon stepped foot in the slums, something seemed to shift.
She went gracefully, her red cloak swaying behind her, the hem of it only just touching the filthy ground. She had nothing in her hands, but Lisbeth, her maid, followed closely behind, carrying a large sack of food, blankets, and medicine.
The people of the undercity, who had learned to look down on passing nobles, turned up their heads at her.
Elina's gaze grew soft as she looked around her. "Another hard day for them, " she said, stroking her belly. "If only I could do something real to help them...
A sudden voice snapped her out of her thoughts.
"Elina! Did you bring what I asked for?"
A little girl ran toward her, bare feet kicking up dirt on the uneven ground. Her hair was unkempt, her dress torn at the edges, but her eyes were full of pure unadulterated joy.
A woman was following her, her voice sounding worried.
"Kela! I told you to greet Lady Elina properly!"
Elina chuckled and bent over, staring down at the girl.
"It's all right, " she said. 'She's only a child. ' "
Lisbeth, who had been waiting, laid the sack down and took out a small golden hairband. The metal shone even in the dim light and reflected in the girl's wide, astonished eyes.
Wow! It's like gold! Thank you, Elina! Kela said happily, holding the gift close to her chest.
Her mother, however, bowed deeply, shame flickering in her expression.
Lady Elina, I am sorry, " she said. 'My daughter keeps asking you for things, and we have nothing to give you in return... '
Elina shook her head and smiled. 'Don't worry about it, I love to do her little wishes. '
She stopped for a moment, then put a hand on her stomach. A faint smile came to her lips.
Moreover, we're expecting to have our very own child soon.
The undercity fell silent.
Kela's mother gasped, her hands covering her mouth in surprise.
"Congratulations!" she exclaimed. "How far along are you?"
Elina let out a small, melodic giggle. "Eight months."
Within a few minutes the news spread quickly. People came out one after another, joy gleaming on their faces.
"Lady Elina is going to be a mother!"
"May the gods bless her child!"
When she looked at all of them, wrapped up in the love that surrounded her, Elina felt her heart fill up. She had always been the one to give, to care, to protect. Now the people she had comforted were comforting her.
Suddenly, a tiny hand tugged at her own.
"Elina, " Kela whispered, eyes wide. "Does that mean I'll be a big sister? "
A tear rolled down Elina's cheek. She pressed her hand to the girl's face and said, 'Yes, Kela. You will. '
At that Kela's mother ran into her house and came back quickly holding a golden fruit wrapped in cloth.
"Lady Elina, " she said, kneeling as she offered it. 'It is the fruit of the Gigila Tree. Take it. ' "
Elina's eyes widened.
She recognized it—it was a stabilizer of mana, more valuable than gold. At the time of childbirth, a woman's body was flooded with an uncontrollable surge of concentrated mana. If left unchecked, it would harm or even kill the child. The Gigila fruit was something no one could afford, not even noble families.
And yet… they were offering it to her.
Elina paused. 'I... I can't take something so valuable. Even nobles would fight to get it. '
Kela's mother lowered her head. 'Please, ' she whispered. 'You said Kela would be the baby's big sister, right? So that makes me... the child's mother. '
She paused, as if taking in what she'd just said. Her eyes flickered with guilt and reluctance.
"I-I'm sorry, " she said. 'A woman like me could never say such a thing... '
But before she could lower her head once more, Elina reached out and took the fruit.
The moment Kela's mother turned her head, her breath caught in her throat.
Elina was crying.
Then she snatched the woman up and smothered her in a passionate kiss.
Silence fell on the undercity. The people looked on, and one by one they wept.
The great Ashwon estate rose above them, its marble walls glimmering under lantern light. As Elina's carriage drew up to the gates, a tumult of activity came toward her.
Elina!"
A deep, familiar voice called out.
Before she could even get down, strong arms were around her.
Her husband, Bartho Ashwon, embraced her in a tender but firm hold. He was not the composed man he always was; his dark hair was a bit disheveled, and his violet eyes were troubled.
'I heard you were out again, ' he murmured, resting his forehead against hers. 'You shouldn't do so much. Do you need more maids? More carriages? Just say the word, and I'll—'
Elina chuckled softly, placing a hand on his chest.
"I'm fine, Bartho," she reassured him.
His gaze flickered downward—to her belly. His expression softened instantly.
With the gentleness of a man holding all of life in his arms, he bent over her, holding both hands over the gentle roundness of her belly.
"My little star, " he whispered, pressing a kiss to her belly.
Elina's chest swelled with warmth.
She knew, without a doubt—Bartho was the happiest man alive.
Weeks became months, and the time came for the child's birth.
Ashwon, whose house was usually filled with laughter and warmth, became eerily silent.
The screams of labor echoed through the halls.
Hours passed.
Then silence.
A silence so dense, so unnatural, that it chillingly seized every servant waiting outside the chamber.
The child—
Did not cry.
Within the room, Elina swaddled her newborn and sat exhausted on the sofa.
Her hands trembled. Her heart pounded.
"No... no, please. " she whispered, her voice breaking again. "Cry. Just once. Just let me hear you...
But the child lay motionless.
She cried out, tears falling, her hands tightening around the little body.
Bartho stood beside her, his entire body shaking.
His hands, usually strong and steady, quivered violently.
He had never once cried.
But that night—he did.
Days passed. Then weeks.
Elina never left her room.
Lady Ashwon, once so bright and good-hearted, was now only a shadow of her former self.
Her once-hazel eyes had darkened into lifeless violets, and under them were gathering dark circles from sleepless nights and anguish without measure.
She neither spoke nor ate.
Even when Bartho sat beside her and called her name, and Lisbeth, her silent but ever faithful maid, brushed her hair and made her hot meals, she answered not.
It was as though the light in her had been completely extinguished.
But the city of El Dora did not stop.
The news of her loss spread like wildfire.
The people of the undercity who had rejoiced at her child now mourned with her.
Kela's mother heard the news and rushed to the Ashwon estate with Kela at her side.
They pleaded to see Lady Elina.
But the guards—**cold and unmoving—**blocked their way.
"You are but tenants, " one of them said, "you fit not to be in the mansion of lords. "
Kela's mother fell to her knees.
"Please… just let me see her. Just once."
She was met with silence.
Then—she was thrown out.
Kela clutched her mother's arm, her small hands trembling.
Tears came to the woman's eyes as she turned back toward the undercity, broken and helpless.
Her only prayer was that Elina would once more find the light.
Months passed.
Elina could not remember the last time she had heard from her husband.
Or the last time she had eaten a full meal.
The only thing that remained with her was emptiness.
The mansion felt suffocating—a golden cage with no air.
That night she went outside for the first time in months.
The cold tingled on her skin, but she liked it. Silence at night in the city was soothing.
Bartho had a doctor's appointment, so she had to leave to go to the clinic.
She didn't care.
She merely sat in the carriage, staring out at the passing city.
And then—she saw it.
A faint, white glow flickered in a dark alleyway.
Her heart skipped a beat.
The carriage went by, but something in her cried Stop!
"Stop the carriage."
Her voice was raspy after months of silence, but there was an urgency in it.
The horses came to a sharp halt.
Lisbeth looked at her with something like alarm, but Elina didn't notice. She pushed the door open and went out onto the street.
The alleyway was dark and hid from El Dora's big lights—the place where the unwanted were dumped and left to die. Snowflakes fell softly, covering the streets' filth with a false blanket of purity.
And there in the falling snow lay a little unmoving figure.
Elina stopped as she got out of the coach. Her eyes were sunken from months of grief and sleepless nights, but they twinkled now with curiosity.
A faint white light pulsed in the darkness above the child's pale form—like a single star in a vast night.
As she stepped forward, a hand clamped on her wrist.
Lisbeth.
Then the maid shook her head violently, her brows furrowed, her hand clenched—pleading.
Her lips parted, but she said nothing. She never had.
Instead, her frightened expression said it all: Don't go. Don't touch it.
Elina looked at her, then back at the child.
And then, she pulled her hand free.
She ignored Lisbeth's frantic tug on her sleeve and walked on, slowly but steadily.
The snow crunched beneath her feet, the cold nipping at her skin.
But she did not stop.
The closer she got, the clearer the child's features became.
Silver hair, glimmering in moonlight Pale skin, blushed pink on cheeks
And then, crimson eyes, half-lidded, staring blankly at the sky.
Her breath caught in her throat.
The baby wasn't crying. It wasn't moving, nor was it reaching for warmth.
It simply lay there, silent—its expression devoid of anything.
Still standing beside the coach, Lisbeth clenched her fists, hesitated, then seeing her lady would not stop, stepped forward tentatively, grasping the glowing ball that followed Elina as she approached the child.
The orb, hovering gently, flickered brightly in response.
Elina took the child in her arms, and as she did so, the orb hovered still near the baby, as if reluctant to leave.
Lisbeth looked between Elina and the orb, then, without saying anything, she stepped forward and tried to pull the orb away from Elina's side.
The moment she reached out to touch it, a searing heat poured out of the orb—too sudden, too intense.
She yanked her hand back, but it was too late. Her arm burned, and an orb-shaped mark was clearly visible where her fingers had touched.
She bit her lip, but it hurt too much. Lisbeth stubbed out the wound and covered it up in a moment. She stared at Elina, pale and unable to express how much it hurt.
But Elina was so wrapped up in the moment she didn't even notice Lisbeth's pain. She kept holding the child and felt its small body heat against hers, even though it was freezing cold outside.
The ball continued to hover nearby, like a guardian, unwilling to leave the baby's side.
Elina turned and went toward the carriage, still holding the baby. Lisbeth followed, her face drawn with pain, but she dared not speak.
The carriage door closed behind them.
Inside, for the first time in months, Elina felt something other than sorrow.
She looked at the little one in her arms, the orb still glowing faintly nearby, and her heart swelled with feelings she didn't quite understand.
With a soft sigh, Elina whispered, "Let's go home.