Fifty Years Stolen, a Baby Dead, a Wife Gone

The day my husband Alaric drained fifty years of my starlight, the unformed child in my womb, stripped of the life force that sustained it, began tearing through me in a frenzy.

The priest knelt before the obsidian altar, begging. He said I was a rare starborn bloodline—that bearing a child was already a gamble with my life, and forcibly draining fifty years of starlight would cost me not only the baby, but my magic channels entirely.

Yet Alaric, standing over me as I lay chained to the altar in silver links, only spared me a cold glance.

"Ellara's wasting curse has struck. She needs these fifty years more than you do. Seraphina, you've always been strong—don't hide behind some pathetic jealousy."

He didn't know the starborn never lie.

As he took my starlight to save his childhood sweetheart, I lay alone on the cold stone, feeling my life drain away, letting blood soak through my gown.

So be it. As he wishes.

He didn't want this child, and I no longer wanted him.

"Stop the ritual!"

My scream struck the black stone walls and came back to me unanswered.

Silver chains locked my wrists and ankles to the obsidian altar. Beneath my body, the first extraction rune glowed white-hot, already reaching through my skin for the starlight bound to my soul.

At the foot of the altar stood my husband.

"Alaric, please." I pulled against the restraints until the metal cut into my wrists. "You can't take fifty years from me. Not now."

He didn't even look at me.

His attention remained fixed on Elara, his childhood sweetheart, who lay on a velvet couch beside the ritual circle. Her face was pale, and each breath trembled delicately between her lips.

She looked as though she might die at any moment.

That was what she wanted everyone to believe.

Alaric gave the royal priest a hardened look. "The transfer must begin. Elara's magic won't last through the night."

The priest tightened his grip on his staff. "My lord, extracting fifty years at once could destroy Lady Seraphina's life source."

"She's Starborn. She'll survive."

"But my child won't!" The words tore out of me.

Alaric finally turned.

Hope flared in my chest, desperate and humiliating. "I'm pregnant. Two months. I found out yesterday."

His expression didn't change. "The physician's report is in my desk. Ask him. Use a detection spell. Do anything you want, but please stop this ritual."

Silence filled the chamber.

Then Alaric's mouth hardened. "You expect me to believe that?"

I stared at him.

"Elara collapses, and on the very night she needs your help, you suddenly claim to be carrying my child." His voice was cold with contempt. "Your jealousy has gone far enough."

"My jealousy?" I could barely force the words past my throat.

For five years, I had been his wife.

I had woven protective spells into every robe he wore to battle. I had poured my own magic into his body when curses blackened his veins. I had slept beside him, trusted him, loved him.

And now I was chained to an altar because Elara had shed a few convincing tears.

"I'm not lying." My voice cracked. "The baby depends on my life source. If you take fifty years, there may not be enough magic left to sustain it."

"There is no baby."

The denial came without a flicker of hesitation.

As if his certainty could erase the tiny heartbeat I had sensed beneath my own for the past three nights.

Elara stirred weakly on the couch.

"Alaric." Her voice barely rose above a whisper. "Perhaps we should stop. If Seraphina truly is pregnant, I couldn't bear to harm your child."

"You're too kind to her." He crossed the chamber and tucked the blanket around Elara's shoulders. The tenderness of that gesture cut deeper than the chains.

"She's only saying this because she knows I won't let you die." His unwavering devotion was meant entirely for her.

Elara's lashes lowered, hiding her eyes.

I saw the corner of her mouth move.

A smile. Small enough that only I could see it.

"Alaric!" I fought the restraints again. "She's lying to you. Look at her!"

His magic slammed into my chest. My back struck the altar.

"Enough." That single word held no doubt. No mercy.

He looked at the priest. "Begin."

The priest lowered his staff. The first rune ignited.

White fire ripped through my spine.

I screamed.

Something hooked behind my heart and pulled. It wasn't blood the altar wanted. It was time. Memory. Every unwritten year of my life.

Silver light burst from my chest and streamed across the ritual circle toward Elara.

Color immediately returned to her cheeks.

The second rune caught fire.

Pain tore through my abdomen. I froze.

Deep inside me, the faint pulse of my child began to flicker.

Too fast. Too weak.

"No." I twisted against the chains. "No, no—Alaric, the baby is in distress. Please!"

He flinched at my scream, but he didn't stop the ritual.

"Ten years." Desperation stripped away whatever pride I had left. "Take ten. Take twenty. I'll give them willingly. Just leave enough for my child."

"You'll say anything to punish Elara." He came to the altar and placed his palm against my forehead.

Once, that touch had made me feel safe. Now I wanted to tear his hand from my skin.

"It will be over soon." His hand pressed firmly against the shivering of my skin. "When you calm down, I'll take you home."

Home.

The third rune ignited. My body arched off the altar.

Inside me, the tiny pulse faltered.

I reached for it with my magic, trying to wrap my remaining starlight around that fragile life.

The altar tore it away. The pulse stopped.

A sound left my throat, but it didn't sound human.

Warm liquid spread beneath my hips. The scent of iron filled the chamber.

Blood soaked through my white gown, pouring over the black altar in dark, glistening streams. It ran down the carved grooves and dripped onto the floor.

The priest recoiled. "My lord, she's hemorrhaging."

Alaric glanced at me.

For one heartbeat, I waited for horror to reach his face.

Instead, his jaw tightened. "She knew the extraction would be painful."

"Alaric…" I could no longer feel my hands. "You killed our child."

His eyes turned colder. "Do not use an imaginary child to make me regret saving someone's life."

The final rune blazed. Fifty years of starlight were ripped from my body.

Across the chamber, Elara opened her eyes. Her skin glowed with my stolen life, healthy and radiant.

Alaric rushed to her.

"You're safe." He gathered her securely into his arms. "Nothing will hurt you now."

He never looked back. He didn't see the pool of nearly black blood spreading beneath me. He didn't see my hand fall over the empty place below my heart.

Strangely, I no longer wanted him to turn around.

The pain had burned through love, hope, and grief until nothing remained but a terrible clarity.

The man holding Elara was not the husband I had loved. Perhaps that man had never existed.

Darkness crept across my vision. My breathing slowed.

As I slipped into it, I spoke his name one last time inside my heart.

Alaric, from this day forward, we are even.

You owe me nothing.

And I will never belong to you again.