My Sister Stole My Mate And I Let Her (Seraphina) novel Chapter 418

Chapter 418: Chapter 418 STUFF OF LEGENDS

SERAPHINA’S POV

Imani didn’t move at first.

“Aaron?” Her voice trembled, barely holding together.

He was still breathing hard, chest rising and falling like he’d been dragged out of something deep and suffocating. His eyes locked on her with a raw, unfiltered clarity that hadn’t been there before.

“I—” His voice caught, rough and unsteady. “Imani, my mate.”

That was all it took.

Her presence surged, fragile and fierce all at once, as if something that had been held back for far too long had finally been given permission to exist again.

She crossed the distance between them in a heartbeat and dropped to her knees before him, her hand coming up to his face like she needed to confirm he was real.

“Aaron, it’s me,” she whispered, her voice breaking on every word. “It’s me, I’m here.”

“I know,” he said, and there was a certainty in his tone that made my heart clench. “I know you.”

Imani let out a gut-wrenching sob and threw her arms around him.

The bond between them shone so intensely it almost felt like a physical force, a pull that rippled outward through the clearing.

No one spoke.

Even the night seemed to hold still, as if it understood this moment belonged to only them.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, the tension in my body loosening all at once.

We did it.

Not completely. Not perfectly.

But enough.

And then—

The world tilted.

It was subtle at first—a slight tremor underfoot, as if the ground shifted out of place.

Then my vision blurred.

The silver that had been threading through everything—sharp, bright, alive—began to recede too quickly, as if something was being stripped away before it had fully settled. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

The next thing I knew, Alina was gone, and I was Sera again.

I swayed.

Strong arms caught me before I hit the ground.

“Sera.”

I reached out and gripped Kieran’s shirt.

“Easy,” he murmured, one hand steady at my back, the other tightening around me.

I blinked, trying to focus, but the world refused to settle.

"I’m fine," I said automatically. The words felt distant, as if they belonged to someone else.

“You’re not,” he replied, calm but firm.

Before I could muster up the strength to argue, Kieran pulled a blanket out of thin air, wrapping it around me with steady, gentle fingers.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered.

I exhaled slowly, letting myself lean into him for a second longer.

Then I forced myself upright.

“I’m okay,” I said again, more steady this time.

Kieran’s gaze moved over my face, searching, measuring in that way he had when he was trying to decide whether to push or hold back.

“You’re exhausted,” he said finally. "Don’t even try to deny it."

I huffed out a breath, something between irritation and reluctant amusement, but I didn’t argue further.

Because he wasn’t wrong.

The fatigue ran deeper than the physical. It settled somewhere beneath everything else, as if something had been drained in a way that rest alone wouldn’t immediately restore.

So I let Kieran keep his arms around me, supporting my weight as I used him to regain my balance.

Imani hadn’t let go of Aaron.

Her hands remained on him, one cupping his face, the other gripping his arm as if he might vanish if she eased her hold even slightly.

“Aaron,” she whispered again, hope in her voice as she searched his eyes. “Do you—do you remember anything else?”

Aaron stilled.

The clarity in his expression flickered. Uncertainty crept in as he tried to reach for something that wasn’t there.

“I...” He frowned. “I remember you.”

Imani’s breath hitched.

“And the bond,” he added, his voice quieter now. “I can feel it. It’s...strong. You’re my mate.”

She let out a half-sob, half-laugh. “Yes. Yes, baby, I am.”

“But everything else—” He hesitated.

Then, more quietly, “It’s gone.”

The words settled heavily in the space between them.

Imani shut her eyes briefly, as if bracing herself.

When she opened them again, the tears were still there, but her expression had steadied.

“You’re here,” she said softly. “That’s enough.”

But it wasn’t, not really.

I could see it in the way her fingers trembled, in the way she kept searching his face like she was hoping something else might surface if she looked hard enough.

And Aaron knew it too.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

She shook her head. “No. Don’t—don’t say that.”

“I should remember,” he insisted, frustration bleeding into his tone now. “There should be more.”

“There will be,” I said before I could stop myself.

Both of them looked at me.

I stepped forward, tightening the blanket around myself.

“This wasn’t everything,” I continued. “What we restored was one memory. One connection. The strongest one.”

Alois stepped closer, his expression thoughtful, analytical in a way that told me he was already dissecting what had just happened piece by piece.

“You identified linked fragments,” he said, gaze sharp. “Pieces of the same memory and reconnected them.”

“Which means,” I said, “there are more like that.”

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