Prologue - The Last Portrait
Three hundred years ago, a witch and a human woman fell deeply in love.
Their lives were different in ways neither of them could have imagined when they first met, but within the walls of the witch’s mansion, those differences had gradually become insignificant. They had built a quiet life together, one filled with simple moments that neither of them ever thought would come to an end.
That afternoon was supposed to be one of those moments.
The garden surrounding the witch’s mansion was peaceful beneath the afternoon sun. A gentle breeze moved through the trees, carrying the scent of flowers across the stone paths. Somewhere nearby, birds sang softly among the branches, adding to the tranquility of the place.
The witch sat beneath the shade of a large tree, comfortably absorbed in the book resting in her hands.
Her beloved sat a short distance away with a canvas positioned before her.
She had decided to paint her.
It wasn’t unusual for her to paint the woman she loved. She had painted the garden many times, along with the mansion, the flowers, and countless other things that caught her attention. But there was something different about painting the woman in front of her.
She wanted to capture this moment.
The way the sunlight filtered through the leaves.
The peaceful expression on the witch’s face as she read.
The quiet afternoon they shared together.
Her brush moved slowly across the canvas as she worked.
For a while, everything remained perfectly ordinary.
Then her hand stopped.
A strange sensation suddenly passed through her body.
She blinked several times.
The garden seemed to shift before her eyes.
She tried to steady herself, placing one hand against the edge of the easel.
The dizziness grew stronger.
She frowned, confused.
She had never felt anything like this before.
The brush slipped from her fingers.
It struck the ground with a soft sound.
The witch immediately looked up from her book.
“Are you all right?”
The woman tried to answer.
“I’m—”
Her voice faded.
Before she could finish, her body suddenly went limp.
She collapsed.
The witch’s book fell from her hands.
Her expression changed instantly.
“Wait!”
She rushed toward her.
She reached her just before her body could strike the ground completely and caught her in her arms.
“Wake up.”
There was no response.
Fear spread through the witch’s chest.
She had seen humans become tired. She had seen people become ill. But this was different.
The woman she loved most had simply collapsed in front of her without warning.
“Please, wake up.”
She gently touched her face.
Nothing.
The witch’s heart pounded.
Without wasting another second, she lifted the woman into her arms and carried her toward the mansion.
“Someone!”
Her voice echoed through the halls.
A servant immediately hurried toward her.
“Call a doctor. Now.”
The servant’s eyes widened when she saw the unconscious woman in the witch’s arms.
“Yes, my lady.”
The servant immediately ran to carry out the order.
The witch continued toward the bedroom, refusing to let go of the woman even for a moment.
She carefully laid her on the bed and sat beside her.
Her fingers brushed the woman’s hair away from her face.
“Please be okay.”
The words came out barely above a whisper.
Not long afterward, the doctor arrived.
He entered the room with his medical bag and immediately approached the bed. The witch stepped aside, though she remained close enough to see everything he did.
The doctor examined the woman carefully.
He checked her breathing, her pulse, and her condition, asking the witch several questions about what had happened.
The witch answered everything she could.
But she still didn’t understand.
There had been no warning.
The woman had been perfectly fine only moments earlier.
She had been painting.
She had been smiling.
And then she had collapsed.
After the examination, the doctor slowly stood.
The witch immediately turned toward him.
“Doctor, is she sick?” she asked anxiously. “Why did she suddenly faint?”
The doctor didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he stared at her for a long moment.
That silence made the witch even more uneasy.
Finally, the doctor spoke.
“Her condition is serious.”
The witch’s expression tightened.
“What do you mean?”
“She has Elarian Degeneration.”
The unfamiliar name made the witch’s heart sink.
The doctor continued.
“It is a condition that gradually weakens the muscles. As it progresses, she may eventually lose the ability to walk. It can also cause difficulty breathing, and her vision may be affected.”
The witch stared at him.
She struggled to process every word.
“How...?”
The doctor continued explaining.
“This illness is hereditary. If someone in her family has had this condition, that could explain why she developed it.”
The witch’s gaze immediately shifted toward the woman lying motionless on the bed.
The doctor lowered his voice.
“For now, there is still no cure for this disease.”
The room seemed to become unbearably quiet.
The witch could hardly believe what she had just heard.
Elarian Degeneration.
No cure.
Her beloved could eventually lose the ability to walk.
She could have difficulty breathing.
Her vision could deteriorate.
And the doctor had said it would only worsen.
The witch stood frozen beside the bed.
She looked at the woman she loved as though she were seeing her differently for the first time.
How could someone who had been perfectly fine only moments ago suddenly have such a serious illness?
The doctor gathered his things.
“I am sorry.”
The witch didn’t answer.
She barely noticed when he left the room.
The door closed quietly behind him.
Only then did the witch finally move.
She sat on the edge of the bed and reached for the woman’s hand.
Her fingers trembled as she held it.
Tears slowly filled her eyes.
She lowered her head.
She had spent so much of her life believing that magic could solve things humans could not.
But now, for the first time, she was confronted with something she couldn’t simply make disappear.
Tears slipped down her cheeks.
She tightened her hold on the woman’s hand.
“I don’t want to lose you.”
Her voice broke.
For several moments, she could do nothing except sit there and cry.
Then she felt the fingers in her hand move.
The witch immediately looked up.
The woman slowly opened her eyes.
Her vision was still unfocused, but after a few seconds, she recognized the person sitting beside her.
She saw the tears on her face.
Her expression softened.
“I heard what the doctor said.”
The witch quickly wiped her tears away.
“You should rest.”
But the woman continued looking at her.
“I believe I won’t just disappear because of this illness.”
The witch said nothing.
The woman gave her a small, reassuring smile.
“We’ll get through this.”
The witch’s eyes filled with tears again.
The woman gently squeezed her hand.
“Please don’t cry.”
The witch tried to compose herself.
“I don’t like seeing you crying.”
Despite everything, the woman smiled.
The witch looked at her for a long moment.
Then she forced a smile of her own.
She didn’t want her beloved to see how frightened she truly was.
After a moment, something the doctor had said came back to her.
“Is there anyone in your family with that illness?”
The woman frowned slightly.
“The doctor said the illness you have is hereditary.”
The woman remained silent for a moment.
She seemed to think carefully about the question.
“That’s what I was wondering when I heard what the doctor said earlier.”
She shook her head.
“We don’t have that kind of illness in our family.”
The witch’s expression changed slightly.
The answer didn’t make sense.
The doctor had specifically said that the condition was hereditary.
The woman noticed her expression.
“So maybe it’s better if I consult another doctor.”
The witch nodded.
“Okay.”
She gently brushed her fingers through the woman’s hair.
“But for now, rest first.”
She looked into her eyes.
“Tomorrow, we’ll leave to see another doctor.”
The witch held her hand more firmly.
“I’m always with you.”
Her voice softened.
“I won’t leave you.”
The woman looked at her for several seconds.
Then she smiled.
The next morning, the witch woke early.
She quietly left the bedroom and went to the kitchen, where she instructed one of the servants to prepare her beloved’s favorite dish.
She wanted the morning to feel normal.
Even though she was still frightened by everything the doctor had told them the day before, she didn’t want to let that fear take away every ordinary moment they still had.
A little later, while she was still in the kitchen, she felt familiar arms wrap around her from behind.
The witch smiled immediately.
She turned her head and saw her beloved standing behind her.
“You should have waited for me to return to the room,” she said gently. “I could have helped you come here.”
The woman only smiled.
“I think what the doctor said yesterday isn’t true.”
The witch’s smile faded slightly.
“What?”
“Look at me.”
The woman spread her arms a little.
“I’m okay now. Nothing hurts.”
The witch studied her carefully.
For a brief moment, she wanted to believe it.
She wanted to believe that yesterday had been some terrible misunderstanding, that the doctor had been wrong, and that the woman she loved was perfectly healthy.
But she couldn’t forget what had happened in the garden.
She couldn’t forget how suddenly she had collapsed.
“Even if you don’t feel anything unusual right now, you still need to see another doctor, okay?”
The witch gently touched her arm.
“So let’s eat first.”
She smiled softly.
“Then we’ll leave.”
The woman looked at her for a moment.
Then, without saying anything, she wrapped her arms around the witch again.
She leaned closer and kissed her gently on the cheek.
The witch’s expression softened.
For that brief moment, neither of them spoke.
Neither of them knew what the next doctor would say.
Neither of them knew how much their lives were about to change.
Neither of them knew that the quiet afternoon in the garden the day before had marked the beginning of something neither love nor magic could easily stop.
After they finished breakfast, they left the mansion and traveled to a hospital to seek a second opinion about her beloved’s condition.
The witch would do anything for the woman she loved most.
She refused to accept that there was nothing they could do.
As soon as they arrived at the hospital, they were taken to one of the best doctors available. A series of examinations and laboratory tests were performed, and they waited anxiously for the results.
Eventually, they were called back into the doctor’s office.
The witch’s heart sank when she saw the doctor’s expression.
The results had not changed.
The diagnosis was the same.
Her beloved was still suffering from Elarian Degeneration.
The witch had no choice but to tighten her grip around the woman’s hand.
She didn’t want to let go.
She was afraid that if she did, everything would suddenly become real.
After the doctor explained the results, the witch finally spoke.
“How is it possible for someone to have this kind of illness when there is no history of it in her family?”
The doctor looked at her seriously.
“That shouldn’t be possible. This disease is hereditary.”
The witch stared at him.
“Then how did she get it?”
“It may have come from her ancestors,” the doctor explained. “Even if no one in her immediate family has the illness, it is possible that it was passed down through previous generations. That could be how she developed this condition.”
The witch couldn’t accept his answer.
There had to be another explanation.
There had to be something they had missed.
She opened her mouth to ask another question, but before she could speak, her beloved gently interrupted.
“Let’s go home.”
The witch looked at her.
“We’ll talk about this there,” the woman added.
She stood and gently pulled the witch away from the doctor’s office.
The witch followed reluctantly, still unable to accept what she had heard.
When they finally returned to the mansion, someone was waiting for them.
It was the witch’s close friend, Niraya.
Like her, Niraya was a witch.
The moment the two women entered the mansion, Niraya noticed that something was wrong.
They were unusually quiet.
Niraya immediately approached them.
“Why do you both look like that?” she asked. “Your servant told me you went to see a doctor. What happened?”
The witch didn’t answer right away.
She and her beloved walked silently toward the living room.
As soon as they reached it, the witch could no longer hold back her emotions.
Tears filled her eyes.
Her beloved immediately reached for her hand and held it tightly.
The witch finally broke down.
“She is sick, and there is no cure for her illness.”
Her voice trembled.
“But I can’t accept that.”
She looked down at their joined hands.
“There has to be something I can do to make her better.”
Her voice broke completely.
“I can’t live without her.”
The tears she had been holding back finally fell.
Niraya’s expression softened.
She understood how much the woman meant to her friend.
“Just tell me what I can do to help you,” Niraya said. “You know I’ll do anything to help you.”
The witch looked at her through her tears.
“Thank you, Niraya, for being willing to help me.”
Niraya gave her a small, reassuring smile.
“I mean it.”
After they spoke for a while longer, Niraya eventually left the mansion.
Night had fallen by the time the witch and her beloved were in their bedroom.
The room was quiet.
The witch sat beside the woman and watched her carefully.
“Tell me if something hurts or if you feel anything unusual,” she said softly. “You should rest for now.”
The witch gently touched her face.
“I’ll just go to the study. I need to find a healing spell in The Celestial Grimoire that I can use to heal you.”
She smiled and kissed her beloved gently on the forehead.
The woman nodded.
“Okay.”
She closed her eyes and slowly drifted to sleep.
The witch waited until she was certain the woman was resting comfortably before leaving the bedroom.
She went directly to the study.
The large shelves were filled with ancient books, but there was only one she cared about.
The Celestial Grimoire.
She placed it on the desk and immediately began searching through its pages.
She read through one spell after another, desperately looking for anything that might help the woman she loved.
Hours passed.
She found descriptions of various healing spells and potions.
Hope began to return.
If magic could heal injuries, perhaps it could heal an illness.
She gathered the ingredients she needed and began preparing several different potions.
She worked through the night.
By the following day, she had finished preparing the different potions she believed might help.
She brought them to her beloved and carefully gave them to her one by one.
At first, the witch thought they were working.
The woman’s pain disappeared.
She could move more comfortably.
She looked better.
For the first time since the diagnosis, the witch allowed herself to breathe.
Perhaps she had finally found a way to help her.
Perhaps the illness could be stopped.
The hope made her careless.
She began to believe that everything would be all right.
Days passed.
The witch continued watching her beloved closely, convinced that the potions were helping.
Then, without warning, the woman’s condition changed.
She suddenly reached for her head.
Her face tightened in pain.
The witch immediately rushed toward her.
“What’s wrong?”
The woman struggled to speak.
“My head...”
She pressed her hands against her temples.
“My head hurts so much.”
Her voice trembled.
“I can’t bear the pain.”
The witch’s heart immediately began pounding.
She rushed to retrieve another potion she had prepared and brought it to the woman.
“Drink this.”
The woman took the potion.
The witch waited.
For a moment, she hoped it would work just as the others had.
But it didn’t.
The pain didn’t disappear.
Instead, the woman’s condition began to worsen.
The witch stared at her in horror.
“No...”
She reached for her.
“What is happening?”
The woman’s breathing became more strained as she struggled against the pain.
The witch held her tightly, her fear returning all at once.
The potions had worked before.
At least, she had thought they had.
Now she wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
For the first time, she wondered whether the illness was something that even magic could not heal.
A few more months passed, and the condition of the witch’s beloved continued to worsen.
She had reached the point where she could no longer stand on her own, and her vision had also begun to deteriorate. Everything around her was becoming increasingly blurred, making even the simplest things difficult.
Because of this, the witch rarely left her side.
She stayed with the woman she loved, helping her whenever she needed it and doing everything she could to make her days easier.
One day, the woman quietly made a request.
“Can you take me to the garden?”
The witch looked at her with concern.
“Why?”
The woman smiled faintly.
“I want to paint for a while.”
The witch hesitated.
“Are you sure you’re strong enough?”
The woman nodded.
“I want to do what we used to do in the garden.”
She looked toward the window.
“While I paint, you can sit in front of me and read a book.”
The witch smiled.
She remembered all the afternoons they had spent that way.
“All right.”
Tears suddenly gathered in her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away.
A little while later, the witch carefully carried the woman down the stairs.
One of the servants was already waiting with a specially made wooden chair with wheels.
The witch gently seated the woman in it, making sure she was comfortable before they headed toward the garden.
Once they arrived, the servant prepared the painting materials.
The canvas was placed in front of the woman, and her paints and brushes were arranged within reach.
The woman looked at the canvas for a moment.
Then she picked up her brush.
The witch sat across from her with a book in her hands.
Neither of them spoke much.
It felt like one of the afternoons they had shared before the illness had changed everything.
The witch opened her book and began reading.
She didn’t notice what the woman was painting.
She didn’t know that the canvas in front of her was slowly becoming a portrait of her.
The woman carefully moved her brush across the canvas.
Her vision was no longer what it had once been, but she continued.
She wanted to finish it.
She wanted to capture the woman sitting before her while she still could.
The witch remained completely unaware.
She continued reading, occasionally turning a page.
The afternoon slowly passed.
The sunlight began to soften as evening approached.
At last, the woman lowered her brush.
She stared at the canvas.
She had finished.
The witch still didn’t know what she had painted.
Then, suddenly, the woman pressed a hand against her chest.
Her breathing became strained.
The witch immediately dropped the book in her hands and rushed toward her.
“What are you feeling?”
She knelt beside her.
“Is something aching?”
The woman tried to answer, but she could barely speak.
She struggled to breathe.
Fear immediately filled the witch’s eyes.
Without wasting another moment, she lifted the woman into her arms and carried her back toward the mansion.
But instead of taking her to the bedroom, the witch carried her toward the basement.
Hidden beneath the mansion was The Spell Sanctum.
It was a sacred room where witches could perform secret spells. Every witch had her own Spell Sanctum within her respective home.
The witch entered the room and carefully laid her beloved on the Ascension Altar.
She immediately took The Celestial Grimoire and opened it.
Her hands trembled.
She had already tried healing spells.
She had prepared potions.
She had searched for anything that could help.
Nothing had been enough.
But there was one spell she had not yet been willing to use.
The immortality spell.
The witch knew it was forbidden.
She also knew the consequences of using it on a human.
But as she watched the woman struggling to breathe, she could no longer think about the consequences.
She only thought about losing her.
She positioned herself beside the altar and prepared to begin the spell.
Suddenly, the door opened.
“What are you going to do to her?”
The witch turned.
Niraya stood in the doorway.
Her eyes immediately fell on the woman lying on the Ascension Altar.
The witch looked back at her.
“There’s no other way.”
Her voice trembled.
“I’ll use the immortality spell because I don’t want to lose her.”
She looked toward the woman.
“I can’t bear to live without her.”
Niraya’s expression filled with alarm.
“But that spell is forbidden to be used on people.”
She stepped forward.
“You will be punished if you do that.”
The witch didn’t hesitate.
“I’m ready to accept the punishment as long as she lives.”
Niraya immediately tried to stop her.
But before she could reach the altar, the witch cast a spell.
The magic struck Niraya and prevented her from moving.
“Niraya!”
The witch turned back toward the altar.
“I’m sorry.”
Niraya struggled against the spell.
“You can’t do this!”
But she couldn’t break free.
The witch was more powerful than her.
The witch turned back to her beloved and began the immortality spell.
The magic filled the sanctum.
Niraya could only watch helplessly.
Then the woman suddenly moved.
She reached for the witch’s hand.
The witch looked down at her.
The woman forced herself to speak despite her difficulty breathing.
“Don’t continue this.”
Her voice was weak.
“I don’t want you to be punished.”
Tears filled the witch’s eyes.
“I would rather be punished than live without you.”
The woman’s eyes filled with tears as well.
The witch held her hand tightly.
“I can’t lose you.”
But the woman continued looking at her with tears in her eyes.
The witch refused to stop.
She continued the immortality spell.
The magic intensified around them.
Then, finally, the spell was complete.
Silence filled the sanctum.
The witch stared at the woman.
She wasn’t moving.
“No...”
The witch immediately reached for her.
She lifted her from the altar and held her tightly.
“Wake up.”
There was no response.
“Please, wake up.”
She gently shook her.
“What happened?”
Her voice trembled.
“Why didn’t the spell work?”
She held the woman closer.
“Please wake up. I can’t live without you.”
Tears streamed down her face.
“This is impossible.”
She looked toward the grimoire.
“That spell should have worked.”
But the woman remained still.
A few more minutes passed.
The witch continued holding her, desperately waiting for her to wake.
Then she noticed something that made her heart shatter.
The woman was no longer breathing.
The witch could no longer stop crying.
Niraya was eventually released from the spell.
She immediately rushed toward the witch and wrapped her arms around her.
“It’s okay.”
Her voice was filled with sadness.
“She’s gone.”
The witch didn’t respond.
Niraya held her tightly.
“Don’t worry. I’m here.”
She gently held her friend.
“I won’t leave you.”
But the witch could only cry as she held the woman she loved.
A few days after the witch’s beloved woman was buried, the witch remained inside her room.
She refused to leave.
She couldn’t bring herself to face the world without her.
Then someone knocked on the door.
The witch didn’t answer.
After a moment, the door opened.
Her trusted assistant and friend, Sarinya, entered the room.
Sarinya was a Lumens who, like the witch, was immortal and possessed supernatural powers. Unlike the witch, however, she could not cast spells.
She carried a canvas in her hands.
Sarinya approached quietly.
“This was given to you by one of your servants.”
She looked at the canvas.
“It must be important to you.”
The witch didn’t respond.
She remained sitting on the bed.
Sarinya carefully placed the canvas beside her.
The witch still didn’t move.
She didn’t say a word.
Seeing that her friend needed time alone, Sarinya decided to leave.
But before she walked out, she stopped at the door.
“After staying in your room and mourning, you need to face the High Coven.”
The witch remained silent.
“They’re calling for you.”
Sarinya then left the room.
The door closed.
Silence returned.
For a long time, the witch didn’t move.
Then, slowly, her eyes fell toward the canvas beside her.
She stared at it.
Something about it made her chest tighten.
She reached for it with trembling hands and turned it toward herself.
Her breath caught.
It was a painting of her.
She was sitting in the garden with a book in her hands.
The witch stared at the canvas in disbelief.
She had never known.
She had never realized what her beloved had been painting that afternoon.
Tears immediately began falling from her eyes.
She reached out and gently touched the edge of the canvas.
Only then did she understand.
The woman had spent her final afternoon painting her.
The witch lowered her head as tears fell onto the canvas.
She had thought they were simply returning to the garden to relive one of their old afternoons.
She hadn’t known that her beloved had been quietly leaving her one final memory.
One final painting of the witch herself.
One final image of herself, captured on canvas by the woman she loved.
And now, the painting was all she had left.
The witch closed her eyes and held the canvas against her chest.
Outside her room, the High Coven was waiting.
They had summoned her.
And she knew she could no longer hide from what she had done.
But before she could face them, there was something she still didn’t understand.
Why had the immortality spell failed?
