The best love is the kind that awakens the soul;
that makes us reach for more, that plants
the fire in our hearts and brings peace
to our minds.
That’s what I hope to give to you forever.
-The Notebook

Prologue

The heavens are dark, black like the devil’s soul. The sky breaks open with thunderous rolling, like a thousand horses carrying a thousand chariots. Magic, it's all magic, a cloak of sorts to shield and protect the heir. The newborn child with the deep, dark eyes and gummy bunny smile. Each peel of thunder hides soft gurgles and baby giggles, coos are masked by lightning strikes, and tears mix into the beating, pounding rain.

She mustn’t know; she can’t find out the child has arrived. They’ve been playing this game of hide with no seek for the past twenty-three hours. Just one more to go. One more hour, then... then the child will be free from harm.

The participants for tonight’s birthing have gathered from all corners of the kingdom. In attendance are nobles: kings, queens, lords and such. Magic is represented too because the child himself is the bearer of magic, the newly born heir to the mystical throne. His magic will come to power in less than an hour. If they can keep him safe until then, keep her distracted until then, then magic will be safe once again.

“We need to leave.” The mother paces about the room frantically. The child is wrapped in swaddling clothes and pressed against her bosom.

“Sweetheart, we’ve discussed this. This the safest place for him, here among our friends and family. We’ll keep him safe. I promise.” The king’s voice wavers with uncertainty and the queen doesn’t miss it.

She can’t lose her son, not to her, not to that shriveled shrewd, not to Moyrah, the smoke mountain witch. Not to her sister.

“You don’t know her like I do love,” she replies, quickening her steps. Twenty-three hours and thirty-eight minutes, they just have to keep her at bay for twenty-two more minutes, then she can breathe properly, then she will know her child is safe. 

“Helena, have some faith in those we trust.” The king sounds tired, and she feels guilty, but she knows Moyrah best. She knows the blackness that bleeds within her sister’s veins, the vengeance that coils around the woman like a snake, seething and hissing. Moyrah had warned her, had told her she’d never forgive her, that she’d have her vengeance.

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“You did this? You told?” The hurt in Moyrah’s eyes is evident. It’s true that she did tell, but she didn’t know it was a secret. She didn’t know there would be backlash or that it would be so severe. 

She stands dumbfounded, staring at her sister, her best friend, the one person in the whole world she’d never intentionally hurt. Her careless speech had cost more than she is willing to pay. 

“I-I didn’t know, I swear. We-I. Moyrah I swear it’s not what you think.” She tries desperately to explain, but it’s too late. 

The air has already started to turn frigid, and a steely glare has replaced the warmth that normally fills Moyrah’s beautiful gold-green eyes. Dark magic is taking up residence. It’s what happens when thoughts of revenge creep into the heart of a good witch. Moyrah isn’t fighting the change and Helena can see that she’s losing her closest ally. Her beloved sister is being swallowed up by the blackness, and she’s powerless to stop it.

“Moyrah, NO!” She grabs the girl, pulling her out of the twisting tornado-like blackness.

“Let go of me! You caused this. Because of you I’ve lost the only thing I’ve ever loved. I’ll never forgive you, Helena. Mark my words, I will repay in kind. Before the hour of protection has come the thing you love the most shall become the thing most feared by all. A life for a life, sister.” With the utterance of the curse the young woman vanishes, leaving Helena reeling in pain and regret.

It was all a mistake, just a stupid misunderstanding, a slip of the tongue. Helena falls to her knees.

“What have I done?” 

Many years have passed since that day, and everyday Helena wondered what it was that she loved the most. It’s wasn’t until the first time