Help! My Moms Are Overpowered Tyrants, and I’m Stuck as Their Baby!

She didn't pull away.

The soft pressure of her palm lingering against mine spoke volumes louder than any words. But neither of us spoke. Instead, the distant rumble of thunder rolled through the castle walls, as if the night itself had taken a deep, impatient breath.

Aria and Riven had already gone ahead, noses pressed against old, ornate doors in the forbidden corridor—those same doors we'd been warned never to open. Behind them lay the wing sealed centuries ago, where forbidden magics were rumored to slumber. We followed, hearts hammering with a delicious blend of dread and excitement.

A sudden gust of wind scattered leaves through the corridors, rattling the ancient stained glass windows with mournful clatters. Lightning split the sky beyond, illuminating the hallway in stark, silver flashes. Shadows leaped and danced across the stone floors, weaving between cobblestones like living things.

I swallowed, tasting the stale dust on my tongue. "Are we sure about this?" I whispered, though I already knew the answer. Risk and revelation had become dangerously addictive.

Velka stood rigid at my side, eyes narrowed yet unfocused, as if listening to a different storm than the one raging around us. Despite the wind tugging at her robes, her hair, her composure, she remained startlingly still an island of calm amid chaos. Something about her tension sent a thrill down my spine.

"Door," Riven said flatly, pointing at the carved oak barrier etched with barred wards and discarded runes. He ran a hand over a knotted relief of a dragon's claw, pushed and the door creaked open.

Inside, a narrow staircase spiraled downward into darkness. Moist air, thick with age, rose damply to greet us. The lantern I carried cast a feeble circle of light that trembled across walls slick with moss. Together, we stepped into the gloom.

Aria led with careful confidence, mumbling soft incantations to ease our passage. Riven brought up the rear, practically bouncing with excitement despite his complaints. Velka and I walked in the middle—her posture still perfect, my nerves frayed beneath a veneer of curiosity.

Our footsteps echoed strangely, as though the corridors themselves were hollow. Every footfall shifted the air, stirring motes of dust into tiny galaxies. The staircase ended at an archway carved with rubicund inscriptions: "Let No Heart Seek in Shadow Who Bears the Thorne."

I paused, tracing the words with a careful fingertip. "What does that even mean?"

"It's ominous," Aria said, glancing over her shoulder. "Also, grammar is suspect."

Riven scoffed. "'Who bears the Thorne'? That's me. I bear the potential for sarcasm."

Ignoring him, I pushed the archway open. The chamber beyond yawned before us, vast and vaulted. Thunder boomed overhead, rattling the vaulted ceiling like a drum solo from a drunken god.

Walls of polished obsidian gleamed damply. Pillars of black stone rose into blackness. And there stretching across the far wall ran a mural so old its pigments seemed fused with the rock itself.

I stumbled forward, drawing closer, lantern-light dancing over the image. My breath caught.

There stood a girl her hair spiraling along her shoulders like starlit silver, fine features carved with uncanny precision. But it wasn't just anyone. It was me.

Next to her, poised with an effortless grace that shivered with lethal elegance, stood a vampire a tall figure wrapped in shadow and velvet, eyes glinting crimson beneath moonlight. Her stance was protective, her gaze intense, as though vowing to shield the girl beside her from all horrors.

Velka gasped, a soft sound that cracked the silence like a whip. She froze mid-step, all pretense of calm forgotten. The mural's shadows seemed to shift around her, drawing her attention away from me.

I swallowed hard. My pulse thudded in my ears. "Wh–When did this get painted?"

Aria crouched, examining the runes beneath the mural. "This style predates the Arcanum's founding by centuries. Legendary era of the First Houses."

Riven whistled softly. "There's -um- no record of this ever existing. Officially, this chamber is a myth."

I ran a trembling hand over the mural's surface, feeling the faint ridges of dried paint and centuries of neglect. "She looks like me," I whispered.

Velka's gaze flicked from me to the mural, then back again. Her knuckles whitened on her staff. A low voice, soft as silk and sharp as obsidian, slipped through the shadows: "Velka Nightthorn."

She froze entirely. The lantern jumped in my hand. "You heard it," I murmured, voice trembling.

Velka's jaw clenched. Her eyes darted to every dark corner. Her breathing came sharper. Aria and Riven exchanged uneasy glances.

A second whisper: "Velka... Velka."

Her hand tightened on her staff. Her calm veneer cracked, revealing panic behind her eyes. The mural's vampire gaze seemed to follow her, lips curved in silent accusation.

My own heart pounded. The room felt alive, hungry. The air crackled. The mural's ancient magic throbbed like a wound.

"Wal–Watch out," I gasped, stepping forward to draw her away. But before I could reach her, the voice drifted again, wrapping around us like a ribbon of smoke: "Beloved..."

I staggered, lantern skittering. Riven lunged, catching the light before it smashed against the stone. Aria chanted a soft ward beneath her breath, creating a bubble of shimmering blue around us.

Velka stood motionless, eyes wide and then, abruptly, she collapsed to one knee, pressing a hand to her chest.

"Velka!" I cried, rushing to her side.

She shook her head, hair falling over her face. "I… this place... memories… old promises… nightmares…"

Aria knelt beside her, energy swirling around her hands as she tried to anchor Velka's mind. Riven hovered, guard-stance, eyes scanning the darkness for the whisper's source.

I stared at the mural again, breath catching. The girl and vampire two halves of a bond older than history gazed out at me. My heart twisted painfully.

Velka's voice broke my trance: "Elyzara… I'm sorry."

I helped her to stand, supporting her trembling weight. "Velka, what's happening?"

She closed her eyes, as if dredging from some distant well. "She... she's calling... from my past... my family exiled... promises whispered on moonless nights..."

Light flickered from Aria's ward. "The voice is gone," she said, voice tight. "But the magic lingers."

Riven kicked at a loose stone. "Either we bail or we get answers."

I drew a steadying breath. "I want answers."

Velka looked at me eyes unfocused yet full of something I'd never seen: raw vulnerability. "Then let us leave this place alive."

The storm outside raged, the castle walls trembling with thunder. Together Velka, Aria, Riven, and I turned away from the mural's haunted gaze, down the corridor we'd come.

And behind us, I felt the silence shift, as though the chamber itself exhaled in disappointment.