𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 (𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐚𝐬 𝐖𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐏)

Prologue

"Rosia!" A pair of strong arms came to catch her before she could fall from the ground. A harsh, rasping cough tore through her. Her face was contorted with pain as she felt a sharp sting on her chest.

When the man helped her, she straightened herself, noticing a dark, crimson strain spreading across her dress. Her heart pounded, clutching the fabric of her dress. Her breaths came in ragged gasps.

"Lucas.." She called her lover's name and stared at him softly, forming a small smile on her face that didn't reach her eyes. With trembling fingers, she lifted her weakened arm and cupped her lover's face tenderly. Her touch was delicate, almost reverent, as if she sought to convey all her love and regrets.

"It's time to let me go. You've given everything you could. You tried everything to heal me and–" Her words faltered by another violent cough, and this time more blood stained her lips to her dress. Her lover's eyes grew wide with desperation. The sight of her suffering was almost too much for him to bear.

"Don't talk," He managed to choke out, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and sorrow as he gently lifted her and laid her down on his bed. He took her wrist and brought it close to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to the back of her hand. "Just hold on. I will heal you." He whispered. She smiled.

"It's too late, Lucas." She responded weakly, mustering a faint smile as she fought to hold back her tears. Even on the brink of death, she tried to appear strong for him, determined to shield him from her pain. "Please give up on me."

"No," He said, his voice trembling as he clung to her hand. Deep down, he understood that her chance of living was long gone, but he clung to the fragile hope that somehow, against all odds, she might pull through. "I won't give up on you– So, please.. don't give up on yourself.. please.." He whispered desperately, begging. A tear slipped down his cheek as he looked down with a mixture of sorrow and disbelief.

"Lucas, please, you're only hurting yourself," She pleaded, her own tears breaking free. She couldn’t bear to see him unravel like this because of her, her heart aching at the sight of his suffering. His shoulders trembled, and his hands shook, yet he clung tightly to her grasp, unwilling to let go. He shook his head, unable to find the words, his silent refusal to part from her evident in every movement.

He was the greatest of magicians, a master of arcane arts who had woven spells to mend the broken and to safe countless of souls. Yet, as he faced the silent tragedy before him, his boundless power proved futile. Despite his mastery over the mystic and the miraculous, he could not find a way to save the one who meant more to him than life itself.

"Please, give up on me," She whispered weakly, her voice barely audible. She forced a fragile smile, her fingers tenderly caressing his cheek. "You’ve done your very best, and I will be eternally grateful for that. Let go of me." He remained silent, afraid that speaking would shatter his fragile composure. He feared that if he voiced his thoughts, he would collapse into a pleading desperation, begging her to stay, to not give up, and to let him love her a little longer.

"You might feel worthless for not being able to help me, but that's not true."  She said with a smile that never left her face, as if to reassure him that everything was fine and would be fine. Yet he knew that nothing was truly fine. How could it be when she was dying? "You even went around the world searching for a cure for me, though unfortunately, it doesn't exist." She let out a sad chuckle, noticing the tears on his face, and gently tried to wipe them away with her thumb.