CHAPTER 57: WHAT ISOLDE DESIRE

Seamus swallowed hard at his own deduction. He was certain the emblem on his mother’s dagger belonged to Velstrath.

He had seen it once in the library when he met Madeline. But how had Alice come to possess such a weapon?

If it truly was Velstrath, then weren’t all their killers supposed to be women?

He had never seen a single male among their ranks, nor had Isolde ever mentioned one.

Still, they were human, but they might be Isolde’s servants, bound to her.

His jaw tightened. If Velstrath was behind this, then Isolde and the rest would stand as his greatest enemy.

But the monster loomed closer, the knife raised high.

"WRONG! WRONG AGAIN!"

"What?!"

Seamus twisted aside just as the blade sank deep into the cupboard.

’What the hell is the answer?!’

He darted across the nursery, dodging every furious strike. His body screamed to give in, blood loss dragging him down, but survival instincts burned hotter.

The system told him to stand still and stop the bleeding. But how? How could he stay still while death chased him?

"Think, Seamus!" he hissed to himself, breath ragged.

The monster vanished, then reappeared directly in front of him.

"BAD KID NEEDS TO BE PUNISHED!"

Its roar shook him to the bone. His back slammed against the wall, cornered. Even with Isolde’s speed and strength running through his veins, it meant nothing if he couldn’t strike back.

"SEAMUS! YOU FOOL BOY!"

His eyes widened. That voice was Isolde’s voice, cold and mocking.

And then he remembered. The Labyrinth of Dream was her domain, a realm designed to punish, to trap, to grind a soul into despair.

The killer didn’t matter. The dagger didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

The truth Isolde wanted him to face was cruelly simple:

"It’s me. I’m the one who killed my mother."

The monster froze, its form collapsing into black ink that splattered across the nursery floor.

The room shuddered like an earthquake, walls quaking as reality peeled apart.

Yet his mother’s figure remained. She still sat there, cradling his infant self, humming that gentle lullaby, as if she would hold onto this moment forever.

"Mom..." His voice cracked. He knew this would be the last time he saw her.

Her dark hair flowed like silk. Her smile was as soft as the first snow.

Her slender body, fragile and strong all at once, was the shield that had carried him through this nightmare.

And her eyes that resembled his, shone with a love so deep it broke him.

"Seamus," Alice whispered, her voice warm and steady, "mommy loves you so much. Please... grow healthy and happy, with me or without me."

His hands trembled. He bit his lip until blood welled, choking on the words.

"I... I will try."

Darkness swallowed the world.

And with it, the mother he had lost yet loved more than anyone.

Seamus once again found himself swallowed by darkness. But the blackness didn’t last long.

Before him, countless giant screens flickered to life, surrounding him with memories not his own, but Viviane’s.

A little girl with short hair and gentle blue eyes played with cats, laughed as rain soaked her, and danced hand-in-hand with her sister.

They looked so carefree. Even Isolde appeared different, her face warm as she embraced her daughters.

"Mom, I love you the most! Won’t you make me that cookie again?" Viviane chirped, cheeks full of hot potato.

Isolde wiped the crumbs from the corner of her mouth. "Eat all your food first before asking for dessert."

"I will!"

Seamus smiled faintly. This Viviane was so different: mischievous, radiant, alive. What had broken her?

And Isolde... the way she hugged them, the way she read them stories, her voice soft as cotton. She looked nothing like the cold-blooded tyrant he knew.

His brow furrowed. He could hardly believe it. She seemed like a mother who truly loved her children. Not a monster. Not the bastard who had destroyed her own blood.

He understood then why Viviane spoke of betrayal with such venom. If someone who once loved him turned cruel, turned into his tormentor, he might have shattered too.

But the warmth on the screens twisted into something brutal. One day, Isolde appeared holding a knife.

She drove it mercilessly into her husband, ignoring her daughters’ terrified screams.

Then she turned, closing in on them only to hug them tight, sobbing, "I’m so sorry. I would never hurt you."

Seamus’s eyes widened as more memories unfolded. She swung wildly between tenderness and cruelty.

One day gifts after slaps. Kisses after trying to drown them in a lake. Comforting words after mockery that cut to the bone.

It was madness, possession, perhaps. Even Viviane, who clung to her mother most, began to distance herself.

How could she not? Isolde had become unpredictable, dangerous.

"What’s actually happening?" Seamus whispered, unsettled.

The memories weren’t his to unravel; they were Viviane’s truth.

The screens shifted again. Viviane was eighteen now. She wore a white dress her mother had sewn for her.

There was no party—poverty had stripped them of such luxuries—but she wore it proudly in their simple living room.

Seamus’s gut twisted. A red moon hung outside the window, spilling its bloodlight across the room.

Isolde sat beside her, eyes glowing with unnatural hunger. "Viviane, you look so beautiful. Especially in that dress."

Viviane beamed. She welcomed the compliment, innocent and eager, leaning into her mother’s arms as though nothing could go wrong.

"I have one more gift for you tonight," Isolde murmured.

"What is it?"

"Eternity."

She didn’t wait for an answer. Her fangs sank into Viviane’s neck. The girl’s scream tore through the quiet night, raw with pain and disbelief, as blood and life drained from her.

"Wh-why? Why are you doing this to me, Mother? You said... I can become a human." Tears started to fall, her eyes full of betrayal.

Isolde looked at her in the eyes, the blood falling down from her cheek as she grinned widely, "Why would you want to become a human when you can have power in your hand, Viviane?"

"Help me, help me destroy the Velstarth House."

And that was how Viviane’s nightmare began.