SERAPHINA'S POV
I stare down at Artemis's sleeping face, resting on my thighs, running my fingers through his soft and silky black hair. It feels impossibly light and soft as I trace my fingers gently across the lines of his face.
I can't help but feel bad for him, having to hear about his mother's condition from someone else, and from none other than Kamila's father, no less, while his own father kept such important news from him.
In the end, we made a call to find out she's stable now, but he still seemed to be in a state of shock. The look of pain on his face tortured me.
I wish I could take away a portion of it or perhaps understand even a fraction of it.
Having a mother and watching her remain in a vegetative state all your life - in a way, it sounds more torturous than not having one or knowing yours didn't want you.
I guess there's a sense of certainty in knowing, rather than wondering if your mother loved you.
He, however, is forced to watch on, forever hoping, wondering what she'd be like, if she'd love him, if she'd ever recover.
I can't imagine what that would feel like.
Thankfully, after hours of holding me tightly to his body while reliving years of trauma, he fell asleep and now sleeps more peacefully.
I slowly slide out from his hold and off the bed, tucking the covers underneath him so he remains warm and comfortable.
I need fresh air, maybe a walk to clear my head.
All this talk about mothers sadly has me recalling mine.
I don't even remember her face or the warmth of her hands, whether she ever smiled at me, or if she was pleased to know I was born, only the cold, harsh words she left on a piece of paper along with me on the steps of the orphanage.
I don't know what I did to make her despise me so much, to the point of willingly giving me up without feeling an ounce of remorse.
I want to hate her as much as she seems to hate me to soften the blow, because if I reject her as hard as she did me, it wouldn't be so painful... and yet, a part of me still yearns to know, maybe if there was something I did, something that happened.
Yet, I can't remember anything.
It's like there's a block on my memories from before I was 4.
I end up wandering out of the room, down an unfamiliar hallway, and stopping at a big portrait of a woman.
She's too gorgeous for words to describe, with platinum blonde hair, bone straight, and the kindest, bluest eyes that look so much like Artemis's, and a warm smile playing on her lips.
From the picture, you can just tell how kind and warm she would be in real life; you can guess the kind of sounds her laughter would make and how contagious it would be.
Hands wrap around my waist suddenly, pulling me back against a hard body.
"Why did you leave me alone on the bed?" Artemis grumbles groggily, rubbing his nose into my hair to inhale my scent before resting his chin on my head.
His arms wrap tightly around me, seemingly never wanting to let go. It's instantly comforting, and I remember why it took me two hours to fight it and get up.
I rub his arm, feeling his scent and warmth engulf me, leaning into his touch.
"I needed a bit of fresh air," I say, gazing back at the painting. "Is this your mom?" I ask, staring at the portrait again.
His head lifts to look at the painting, and his silence confirms my guess.
"I guessed it because you have her beautiful eyes." I trace my hands over the painted blue irises, feeling a subtle connection with this woman I've never met before.
"I hear hers were even prettier in real life. That they glowed when she laughed and shone like the sun. Those are my father's words," he says with a smile tinged with sadness in his eyes.
"It must be nice knowing what your mom looked like, hearing nice stories about her from people who knew her. Even if you never met her, in a way, she's still here with you," I muse, lost in thought as I watch her painting.
A pang of jealousy strikes me, and I bite my lower lip, realizing why I needed to step away for a breath.
"It must be nice, at least knowing that she loved you enough to want to stop your unlawful mate bonding."
"Hey," Artemis says, spinning me around to face him. He pauses when he sees the tears gathering in my eyes, the tears I'd hoped to hide.
He frowns with worry.
"Sera... I'm sure your mother loved you too," he says gently.
"You don't know that. She left me at an orphanage with a note saying she wanted nothing to do with me. I doubt that shows her unending love," I snap sarcastically, running my hands over my face, thinking about how fucked up it is.
Why would anyone do that to their own child, something that's supposed to be a gift?
"I don't even remember anything about her. What she looked like, what she sounded like. I don't know where she came from or have stories about her that I can hold on to. Just this big gap in my memories filled with nothing. This big gap in my identity," I continue, throwing my hands in the air, pulling away from his grasp to wipe away the gathering tears, hating myself for still feeling so much after so many years.
A new thought crosses my mind, something I've never considered before.
"Maybe if I knew her, I would be able to understand what I am more clearly, maybe if she's an Astria witch too, like I am."
"Sera, do you want to find your mother?" he asks more directly.
I freeze, unable to say anything.
A moment of profound hopefulness hits me, the wish of a child wanting to be loved and cherished, wishing she was never left behind, wishing she was chosen.
But then it crumbles to dust as I force myself to face the reality of the situation, looking at my impossible expectations and seeing the truth.
"I doubt if she's still alive," I mutter, my head hanging low.
"We can find that out," he pushes eagerly.
I shake my head.
"No... as much as I want answers, I just know that it's better this way, to leave the past in the past. Because if she is alive, that means she knows where I am and has never bothered to see if I'm okay or not." The possibility of her knowing and choosing not to reach out hurts more than not knowing, so it's better not to dig too deep into it.
"I want you to get the answers you need, and if you don't want to go after your mother, that's fine. But maybe we can find out about your roots in other ways?" he suggests, catching my interest, and I look up to meet his eyes.
"How?" I ask.
"You grew up in an orphanage, and orphanages usually have archives and information about the children in their care."
"We could go there and find out more about myself," I complete his idea, my eyes widening with the possibility.
"Exactly." He confirms, opening up a realm of possibilities. Unanswered questions about my Astira heritage, maybe even a whole hidden village like the one I came from, start to swirl in my mind.
It all sounds too good to be true.
"But are you sure? This is kind of a honeymoon. Wouldn't you rather do something else than go on a wild goose chase to find out where I come from?"
He laughs, gently pulling on both my cheeks as if I've said something amusing.
"As long as I'm with you, Sera, I don't mind whatever we do. Plus, I really want this for you. I want to help you understand all of this more, and maybe if we can, we might find more answers about this prophecy, figure out how to prevent Armageddon from happening."
"Really?" I ask, a mixture of hope and disbelief coloring my voice.
"I mean it," he assures me, his sincerity evident, reaffirming our bond and his
I lean on my tiptoes and kiss him, realizing I could have never asked for a better mate than Artemis.