The protection spell was held in place for a time.
The hearthstone glowed faintly beneath Rose's touch, the faintest warmth still lingering. But as dawn crept silver across the hills, and the birds began their melodious calls, she felt something shift.
It began in her bones.
Not a pain, exactly. Not at first. Just a pulling, as if some invisible thread had knotted itself in her chest and now began to draw tight.
She stood from the floor too quickly. The world tilted, then righted. Ivar caught her arm.
"Rose?" he asked. "You're pale."
"I'm fine," she whispered.
But she wasn't. The cost for what she had done would soon come.
Outside, the trees leaned toward the cottage. Not with wind but intention. The grass curled inward, like the land itself was watching. The sky had no clouds, but the light touched the plains hauntingly. Dim. Like someone had painted the world in shadows too early for the day.
From the east, a cloaked rider approached, its horse left no hoofprints.
Rose stepped out, bare feet on the damp earth. The thread in her chest pulled tighter now, as if leading her to the rider.
The rider dismounted. His voice was young and male, as it held foreknowledge in it.
"You conjured a protection spell."
Ivar stepped in front of her. "She's under my protection."
"But not outside its boundary," the rider replied. "And the spell was older than your name. It awakened what sleeps beneath the stone and ash."
His face was still hidden but Rose felt the weight of his gaze.
"The memory spell is not free," they said. "It preserves what must pass. She defied the natural cycle of life and death."
"I would do it again," Rose said, stepping past Ivar.
The rider tilted their head. "You have already done it. The blood bound them, yes. But blood must answer blood. Magic must answer balance. What you anchored in love, you must now repay in loss."
Rose's heart clenched. She glanced at Ivar, whose eyes darkened with old fear.
"What is the cost?" she asked. "Say it plainly."
The rider raised a gloved hand. "You. One part of you must remain here, tied to the land. You cannot leave without it. And if you do… the spell will unravel. They will burn, as before."
Silence fell like snow.
Then she nodded.
"Take it."
"Rose—" Ivar grabbed her hand.
"No," she said gently. "It's my choice. I won't let my fear undo what I've done. They live because I acted. I'll pay the price."
The rider extended their hand. The sigils still flickering around the cottage glowed in answer.
"What will it be?" she asked.
And the rider whispered:
"Your child."
It hit like a blow to the stomach.
Her mouth opened to protest, to cry, to speak Ivar's name.
Nothing. Not breath, not whisper, not even air.
Her knees buckled and this time, he didn't catch her.
The rider stepped back, as if satisfied. "It is done. The memory lives. But your words belong to the earth now."
Then the rider turned and was gone.
No sound of hoofbeats. No trace.
Ivar rushed to her side, lifting her into his arms.
"Rose," he said, voice shaking. "Rose, look at me."
She did. Tears slipped silently down her face.
His arms trembled as he held her close.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I should've stopped it. I should've....."
She pressed a finger to his lips, shook her head, then rested her palm over his heart.
"I chose this", she whispered. I should have known the cost would claim a life in return.
She didn't need to say it. He understood and as he cradled her in his arms, the sky above them broke open.
Not with rain, but it answered with fire.
As though remembering the payment in exchange for the spell she cast.
Her child.
"Ivar, I am sorry." She whispered again.
"Perhaps when the time comes your parents would have passed on before the child can be born."
He murmured, his mind racing as to how to come out of this new magical knot they were in.
"Yes," she agreed.
"Perhaps, you're right", she said hopefully.