[edited: 05/09/2017]

You have failed all of your children now.

Two of your children are filled with darkness, and the other one, the only one that ever had the ability to be good, is bitter and cold because his own mother treats him as a burden.

The words rang over and over again in Hilda's mind until her head pounded and she had to close her eyes to stop herself from crying. Somewhere during the argument between herself and Remy, she had realised that Ackmard had been right. She had treated Maksim wrongly for so long, thinking that she was raising him to be strong and independent; of course, he was those things, but he was also kind and compassionate, and she knew that he did not inherit those traits from Hilda. He had been blessed with a good soul, unlike her other children, and instead of trying to preserve it, she had tried to darken it.

She certainly had failed him.

"Mother, we must talk about what happened earlier." Maksim was stood in the doorway to Hilda's office, an expression of concern on his face. He seemed flushed, as he so often did after talking to Remy, and she wondered what exactly was going on between the two of them. Whatever it was, it was changing him in ways that Hilda never could. He was calmer now, and happier, though his ill temper often overshadowed that. She might have been happy for him if it was not all because of a mortal girl rather than the witch he was supposed to be marrying.

"I do not wish to talk about it now, Maksim," she sighed finally and fidgeted with the papers on her desk to keep from meeting his eye. "There is something else that has been weighing on my mind as of late."

"If this is about marrying Annika, I have told you—"

She cut him off. "No, it is not that, though I do wish to discuss it once the mortal girl has left us."

"I shall look forward to it," he said sarcastically, and sat down in the armchair opposite her desk to face her. "What is it, Mother? Is it about my brother?"

"It is about you." She gazed at him for a moment, at his angular bone structure and red hair that was so much like her own. Then there were his eyes, more his father's, though he had not had silver flecks the way his son did. He was good—perhaps the only truly good thing that Hilda had ever made—and she had never even noticed before. She had been so desperate not to fall back into the darkness that she had barely even noticed the light. Immortals very often felt the burden of wasted time the way she knew mortals must, but she could feel it now, weighing on her chest like a heap of cobblestones. 

"I know that you are disappointed in me for siding with Remy and giving up on my brother, but my opinion will not change."

"And I do not wish it to." She stood up and paced her office, which was full of folders and books she had taken from the Central Hall. When she was not working there, she was working here. It was simply another way in which she had wasted valuable time without realising it. "Maksim, it has occurred to me that I have not been a very good mother to you. All of this time, I have put so much pressure on you. I am too harsh, too cold, yet you have stayed with me always. I do not think I deserve to have you as a son."

Maksim looked speechless, which was a rarity for him. Hilda was finding it very hard to control her own breathing. She had so much more that she wanted to say, but she simply couldn't. The lump in her throat prevented her from doing so.

"Why have you only just decided this?" Maksim questioned finally. "You have been like this for centuries now. It is not as though you have not had plenty of opportunities to change in the past."

"I am too stubborn. After your father left, I became guarded and bitter, and I wanted you to be the same so that you would never be hurt by somebody that you loved. I did not realise that I was doing more harm than good. Then, your brother left and I blamed you for it, because it was easier than blaming myself. I should never have put the responsibility of bringing him back on you. It was my fault, just as it always has been. I am a terrible mother."

"That is not true," argued Maksim quietly. "You have made mistakes, but I know that deep down it is because you care for me. It is my fault for being such a disappointment."

"You are not a disappointment, Maksim." Hilda bent down so that he would look at her and clasped his hands, warm from recently used magic, in hers. She wondered again what it was he did with that mortal girl behind closed doors. "You are the only one of my children that I truly have reason to be proud of. You could have joined your brother when he left, but instead you stayed with me and tried to find him. Your brother has always had a dark heart in him, but yours remains light even in the blackest of times."

"I am beginning to think that that is not entirely true." He frowned, pulling his hand away from Hilda. "I have been very cruel to some people. I am unkind most of the time."

"That is because I have made you so," Hilda said sadly, "and because you have a very big heart to protect. It does not make you a bad person. I see the way that you care for Remy and know that you are capable of so much good. I think that perhaps she brings out the best in you. I think that she makes you happy, and in seeing you happy, I am happier myself, even if she is not the woman I would choose for you."

She saw his guard go up then, something flashing in his eyes that had not been there before. She recognised it because it was something she often felt in herself. "She is just a mortal girl."

"I think that we both know that is not true. Something in you has changed since she arrived. Do you love her?"

"Does it matter?" He pursed his lips. "Nothing could ever happen. She will go home soon enough, and you will go back to wanting me to marry Annika."

"So you do love her." Of course it was not what she had wanted, but how could she regret seeing her son finally caring for somebody? She knew as well as he did that it would not work, but if it meant that he could be happy for even a little while, she was in no position to stop him. "I will always wish for you to marry Annika, but I also wish that you be honest with yourself and do not make the same mistakes that I so often do. You should tell her your true feelings, before you no longer have a chance to."

"I cannot," he whispered, and for a moment, she saw the boy he used to be, when he was barely fifty years old and too innocent to be bitter, with wide eyes and colour in his cheeks, and a fear that every child had when they were still learning about the world.

That little boy, she thought, who I have failed so much, who I have destroyed and replaced with a warlock who is afraid to love and so uses spite and shields himself away from everybody. It is my fault.

"She would not believe me, not after all I have done to her, and what about when she leaves? What will I do when she takes my heart back to the Mortal World while I am here in Refilyn? What will become of me, then?"

"You will grieve, and then you will find your heart again. That is what immortals do. We live, even if that means getting hurt sometimes. We continue even when we do not wish to."

"I cannot fall in love with a mortal girl, Mother," he muttered desperately. "I will not." 

Hilda looked at him squarely, feeling both sympathetic and glad for her son, for he had finally found something to care about, even if he was not quite ready to admit it yet. 

"I think that perhaps you already have."

* * *

She dreams of a place that she has never been to before. It is a lake filled with jet black water, and when she dips her fingers into it, it burns her. The smell of decay is overwhelming, and the sight of it, too; crumbling rocks and colourless grass surround her, and above that, cliff tops that make her feel enclosed as their blackness slices through the pink sky and orange sun. She stands up and turns around.

By now, she expects to see Ackmard, but that doesn't make things any easier when she turns to face him. He smirks, his body tense like a coiled snake ready to spring.

She clutches her necklace instinctively, searching for Maksim and finding his distant figure stood on the edge of one of the lower cliffs. He is too far away to help her, she realises, and her heart sinks. She might not have noticed him at all if his red hair did not stand out so brilliantly against the black rocks. Even from afar, she can tell that he's watching them intently.

"You never learn, do you, mortal girl?" Ackmard snarls, his black pupils glittering as he follows Remy's gaze to Maksim. "He cannot help you, even if he wanted to."

"You can't hurt me," she whispers. "This is just a dream."

"You are right," he nods complacently, as though he had wanted her to say such a thing. "In fact, I think that you are safer here than you are when you are awake."

Before she can reply, a crash of thunder erupts and the once pink sky darkens to a murky purple. Even the ground shakes under her, and she has to concentrate to avoid falling. It begins to rain, the droplets the same colour as the lake so that they stain Remy's bear arms and white dress. They burn, too, as though each one has the power to corrode her body right through to her bones.

"I would burn the whole world down to get that key," Ackmard says and chuckles at Remy's fearful expression, "but I do not think that it will be necessary. By the time I am finished with you and those you love, you will give it to me willingly."

In one swift motion, he pushes Remy backwards so that she topples into the lake, and panic instantly turns her insides cold. She can see nothing, hear nothing. The water seems to melt her skin and singes her blonde hair until it is black. She screams desperately, and it trickles down her throat until her lungs are filled with fire and she can't breathe.

Wake up, she pleads with her own subconscious mind. Please wake up. This isn't real.

She jolted upwards suddenly and found herself back in her bed—much to her relief—where she had fallen asleep earlier, still wearing her silver dress, though now it was wrinkled from her tossing and turning. She wasn't alone, she noticed instantly, and shivered at the thought of being watched unknowingly. Annika was hunched over her, her hand reaching for something near Remy's chest—the key, she realised.

She screamed again, and this time, Maksim was close enough to reach her.