Lyna’s body slumped forward, the glow of the seal fading as she fell. Einar’s heart lurched, and he caught her just in time, his arms trembling as he held her. His breath came in short gasps, his heart pounding with fear.

“Mother? Mother!”

Her face was pale, her chest rising and falling weakly. She was alive, but barely. The magic had taken everything from her.

Einar’s eyes shot open, and panic gripped him like a vice. His breath came in sharp gasps as he bolted upright, heart pounding in his chest. The room felt suffocating, and it wasn’t just the lingering fog of nightmares that weighed on him. Something was wrong.

“Mother?” His voice was raw, barely more than a whisper, but the fear in it echoed through the silence of the house. “Mother!”

He scrambled out of bed, feet slamming against the wooden floor as he stumbled toward Lyna’s room. His chest tightened with each step, dread building like a storm ready to break. When he reached her room, the sight froze him in place.

Lyna lay on the bed, her skin pale, her breath ragged and shallow. Blood trickled from her nose, her hands trembling as if her body were on the verge of collapse. She looked fragile—far too fragile for the woman he knew, the mother who had always been his strength.

“No... no, no, no...” His voice cracked as he rushed to her side, dropping to his knees beside the bed. His hands shook as he gently lifted her into his arms, her body limp and cold against him. “Mother... please, wake up. Please.” His words were desperate, pleading, but she didn’t respond.

The guilt hit him like a wave, suffocating. He had asked too much of her. He had begged her to lift the seal on his magic, and now she was suffering because of it. Mana backlash, the term ran through his mind like a curse. She had overexerted herself—drained her mana completely for him, for the sake of his power. And now...

“Mother, stop... you didn’t have to do this,” he whispered, his voice barely holding together. He couldn’t lose her. Not like this.

Her breathing was so shallow, barely there. Panic clawed at him, and his mind raced, searching for anything—anything he could do. He couldn’t just sit there. I have to do something. I have to save her.

He remembered the healing potion, the one he had bought from Eliza. Maybe it could help. It had to. Without another thought, he gently laid her back on the bed and rushed to his room, his hands shaking as he grabbed the small flask from his pack.

As he turned to run back to Lyna, a voice stopped him.

“Brother?” Alice stood in the hallway, her eyes heavy with sleep but quickly filling with concern. “What’s going on?”

“I—Mother—” He could barely get the words out, panic choking him. “She... she used too much magic.”

Alice’s face went pale as she followed him to Lyna’s room. When she saw their mother lying on the bed, motionless and pale, her breath hitched. “What... what happened?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Einar, what’s wrong with her?”

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“She pushed herself too far,” Einar muttered, kneeling beside the bed again. “For me.” His throat tightened with guilt as he uncorked the healing potion and gently lifted Lyna’s head, pouring the liquid between her lips.

Alice hovered beside him, her face stricken with worry. “Will that help?”

“It’ll heal her body,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “But it won’t restore her mana. That’s what’s killing her.”

The potion worked its way through Lyna’s system, healing the physical strain, but her body remained weak, her breath still faint. Einar’s hands shook as he realized it wasn’t enough. It’s not enough.

“There has to be another way,” he muttered, his mind racing. Then, like a spark in the darkness, an idea came to him. Mana transfer. He had heard about it before, but he had never tried it. Not until now.

Without hesitation, Einar placed his hand over Lyna’s, trying to focus the energy he had felt stirring within him since the seal had been lifted. He willed it to flow into her, to replenish her strength, to save her. But no matter how hard he tried, her body wouldn’t accept it.

Alice watched him for a moment, her brow furrowing. “Maybe it’s because of your magic,” she said softly, realization dawning in her eyes. “Mother’s body isn’t used to your mana... maybe it’s rejecting it.”

Einar froze, her words sinking in like a knife to the gut. His magic—his power—wasn’t compatible with her. Of course it wasn’t. He wasn’t just human. He wasn’t just her son anymore.

He slammed his fist against the floor in frustration, tears stinging his eyes. “Then what do I do?” he whispered, his voice trembling with helplessness.

Alice bit her lip, then stepped forward. “I can try,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I have a mana core... maybe she’ll accept mine.”

Einar blinked, hope flickering in his chest. “You... you could do that?”

“I think so,” she said, though her voice shook with uncertainty. “Tell me how.”

Einar guided her, his hands trembling as he helped her position her palms over Lyna’s chest. He explained how to focus her mana, how to channel it into their mother’s body. Alice closed her eyes, her face pale with concentration as she willed her energy into Lyna.

For a moment, nothing happened. But then, slowly, Einar saw it—the faint rise and fall of Lyna’s chest, the color slowly returning to her cheeks. It was working.

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, relief flooding him as he watched their mother’s breathing even out. “It’s working,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe and gratitude. “Alice, it’s working.”

Alice nodded, though her hands shook from the strain. She pulled back, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps, but there was relief in her eyes.

Lyna stirred, her eyelids fluttering open. She looked up at them, her gaze soft but filled with exhaustion. “I’m alright,” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. “I’m alright.”

Einar knelt beside her, tears of relief streaming down his face. “Mother... I’m so sorry,” he choked out, his voice thick with guilt. “I shouldn’t have asked you to do this. I should have known—”

Lyna silenced him with a weak but tender smile, her hand reaching up to cup his cheek. “Don’t blame yourself,” she whispered. “You’re my son. I would do it all again... for you.”

Her words cut through him like a blade, the love in her voice overwhelming. She had given everything for him—her magic, her strength—and she would have done it all over again without hesitation. The weight of that sacrifice pressed down on him like a mountain, and he knew, in that moment, that he couldn’t waste what she had given him.

As Alice and Einar left the room, Alice’s voice broke the silence, her tone sharp but not unkind. “Does what happened to Mom... have anything to do with you having a mana core?”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Yes... it’s related.”

Alice crossed her arms, frowning, but her expression softened. “Don’t beat yourself up over it,” she said quietly. “Mom made her choice. She wanted to help you.”

Einar smiled faintly, though the guilt still gnawed at him. “Thanks, Alice.”

Alice disappeared into her room, leaving Einar alone in the dim hallway. He stood there, staring at the closed door to Lyna’s room, the weight of everything that had happened settling on his shoulders. His mother had sacrificed so much for him. For Celestia and his future.

And now, it was up to him to make sure that sacrifice wasn’t in vain.