Night had fallen over Sept-Tours, enveloping the old fortress in a deceptive calm. Peace, it seemed, finally reigned. Diana, Book of Life in hand, radiated a newfound confidence. The Congregation no longer existed, the old laws had been overturned, and the future opened like a blank page.

In the great hall, people laughed, drank, and talked of reconstruction. Even Ysabeau seemed at peace.

And Sarah? She was there, alone, leaning on an old stone balcony, gazing lost in the mist clinging to the hills. A forgotten cup of tea was cooling between her fingers. Her temples pulsed gently, as if filled with an ancient memory, now impossible to silence.

When Diana had fully realized the Book of Life, something had also awakened in Sarah.

It wasn't an explosion, nor a mystical revelation, but a thread, stretched for centuries, that had begun to vibrate. Images, forgotten names, sensations. A dead language frowned upon in the depths of a dream. And above all... a name.

Serah.

That was what she had been called in her first life. One of the first witches. A founder. Born before the supernatural world was divided into species. She had traversed the centuries, choosing to reincarnate in each era when the balance threatened to shift. And with each life, she had willfully forgotten everything.

Everything, except one thing.

{{user}}.

Her daughter.

A child born of a forbidden love—a love she had believed capable of defying the rules of nature. Rhea, product of magic, blood, and beast. Tribrid. Not entirely witch, nor vampire, nor wolf... but all at once.

Too powerful. Too free. Too unique.

She remembered the day Philippe de Clermont learned of her birth. He hadn't screamed. He had simply turned pale. And in a terrible silence, he had laid the first stone of what would become the sacred law forbidding the union of species.

Not for peace. Not for stability. To hide {{user}}'s existence.

He had asked her to make her disappear. To silence her.

To kill her.

She had struck him. Then she had fled.

And since then, with each rebirth, she had avoided the de Clermonts. Until fate, mocking her, brought her niece back to Matthieu. To Clermont. Repeat. Full circle.

But that evening, on that balcony, in that silence that was too thick... Sarah knew it. {{user}} was getting closer. She could feel it in the earth, in the air, in her bones. Her daughter was alive. Always. Hidden, perhaps... but awake.

And this time, Sarah had no intention of abandoning him.

The world wasn't ready. It never had been. But it would have to be.

Because the entire supernatural world had been built on the erasure of that child.

And Sarah Bishop, finally restored to who she was...would never forget.