My Sister Stole My Mate, And I Let Her Chapter 482 LIKE A MAGNET

SERAPHINA’S POV

Slumber evaded me that night, refusing to offer its gentle embrace.

Instead, it pulled me down with the silent, insistent force of deep water, tearing me away from Kieran’s comforting warmth, from the familiar weight of his arm draped around my waist, from the steady rhythm of his breathing against my hair.

One moment, I was nestled beside him in the darkness, listening to the soft cadence of his breath, and the next, the world around me dramatically shifted.

The first indication was a scent that permeated the air.

It was a strange blend of sterile metal, salt, and ancient stone, underscored by a distinct whiff of witchcraft.

My eyes fluttered open, revealing a chamber I had never before set foot in, yet, paradoxically, felt a strange sense of recognition.

It was a confined space, too refined to be deemed a cell, yet far too cold to be considered a comfortable bedroom.

The pale walls curved subtly at their edges, imbuing the area with a seamless quality, as if it had been meticulously constructed deep underground, a place where the sun’s rays had never been permitted to intrude.

A slender bed was positioned near one wall, adorned with pristine white sheets that appeared more to be a performance of comfort rather than actual comfort.

Beside it, on a low table, sat a tray bearing untouched food alongside a glass of water.

There were no windows to be seen, only a formidable panel of reinforced metal serving as the door and a subtle silver circle intricately etched into the floor, encircling the bed.

Within the confines of this silver circle sat Margaret Lockwood.

I found myself utterly incapable of moving.

She appeared noticeably thinner than how I last remembered her, her face now possessing sharper angles, her shoulders held with a careful, almost defiant dignity, as if she were determined to prevent captivity from stripping away the final vestiges of her spirit.

Though her hair was neatly combed, threads of exhaustion were visibly woven into the silver strands at her temples.

Her hands rested placidly in her lap, seemingly trained to remain motionless, to avoid any hint of trembling.

“Mother,” I managed to breathe out, my own body starting to tremble uncontrollably.

She lifted her head, her gaze directly meeting mine.

“Sera?”

The mere sound of my name seemed to shatter something deep within me.

My eyes flew open wider, and I stumbled backward in disbelief.

“Y-you can see me?”

She rose with such startling swiftness that the chair behind her scraped audibly against the floor.

Her hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with astonishment.

For a fleeting moment, her features were transformed by a raw, potent emotion so intense that she bore no resemblance to the cold, distant woman who had once observed me from across the Frostbane halls years ago, as if she had already concluded that love was an undeserved privilege for me.

Instead, she appeared as a mother gazing upon a miracle she had never truly believed she would be granted the opportunity to touch.

“You’re here,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

“Moon above, Sera, you’re actually here.”

I took a hesitant step towards her, extending my hand, but the very ground beneath my feet seemed to waver.

The walls blurred at their peripheries, and the silver circle surrounding her pulsed with a faint luminescence, actively resisting my advance, as if even this dreamscape bore the imprint of Catherine’s formidable barriers.

My mother noticed my struggle immediately.

“Don’t try to force it,” she advised, her brow furrowing with concern.

“The distance is simply too great, and Catherine’s wards are intricately woven throughout this entire place.”

“This must be a dream,” I stated, my voice sounding unnaturally distorted, stretched thin by the vast expanse separating us.

“I must be asleep back at Nightfang.”

“Yes,” she confirmed, her eyes gleaming as she studied my face, her gaze filled with an aching, profound longing.

“And somehow, against all odds, you have found me.”

“I didn’t intend to,” I confessed, pressing a hand against my chest where my heart hammered with an almost frantic rhythm.

“I only felt… I felt something pulling me, like an irresistible magnetic force.”

My mother let out a small, broken sound that might have been a laugh.

“Then your bloodline has awakened more fully than I ever dared to hope.”

Her words struck me with profound impact.

“You… you know what this is?” I stammered.

“I know fragments of it,” she replied, her gaze drifting downward, a shadow of old shame crossing her features, heavy and deeply ingrained.

“Never enough. Not nearly enough. Your grandmother possessed far more knowledge than I did, and I was too consumed by pride, too buried in anger, too readily convinced that power was merely something to endure rather than truly understand.”

“Mother,” I murmured softly.

She looked up abruptly, as though anticipating an accusation in my tone.

Yet, tonight, there was simply no space within me for such feelings.

Not with her standing before me, imprisoned within Catherine’s cold grasp.

Not with all the intervening years between us suddenly condensed into this single, fragile thread of consciousness, illuminated only by the moonlight.

“I don’t wish to squander this moment on blame,” I said, my voice quiet and even.

Her lips trembled slightly.

Then, she gave a single, decisive nod, as if accepting a profound act of mercy she had never expected to receive.

“You have changed,” she observed, her voice now gentle.

“No, not changed. You have become precisely what you were always destined to be.”

Her voice lowered, laced with a palpable sense of awe.

“I can sense it even through the veil of this dream. Your power has finally found its place within you. You are truly anchored.”

A tightness formed in my throat.

“Sovereign.”

My mother closed her eyes for a brief, silent moment.

When she opened them again, tears had gathered like dew along the tips of her lashes.

“My daughter,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“My precious little girl, whom I was too blinded by my own fears and insecurities to properly protect, has inadvertently become the very entity that ancient bloodlines both revered and dreaded.”

The words stung slightly, but not with malice.

They seeped into old wounds like cool, clean water, the pain stemming from the fact that they touched places within me I hadn’t even realized had never truly healed.

“I am still navigating this,” I admitted honestly.

“At times, it feels as though the entire world is overwhelmingly loud. Every single life, every intense emotion, every subtle thread of power.”

“That is because you are primarily focused on listening outward,” my mother explained, taking a slow step closer, halting just at the precipice of the silver circle’s boundary.

“Listen inward before you reach. Bloodline abilities are not only force, Sera. They are inheritance. Memory. Pattern. When you touch a dream, don’t chase the person. Call the blood to remember its way home.”

I frowned, trying to hold on to every word. “Call the blood?”

“Yes. Your power keeps reaching like a hand. Make it move like breath instead. Inward first, then outward. Anchor in what is yours before you cross into what is guarded.”

The room flickered, and for a terrible second, Mother vanished.

Panic shot through me. “Mother!”

“I’m here.” Her voice returned before her face sharpened again. “The connection is rough. Catherine’s wards are distorting it.”

“Then tell me quickly.”

This was all I’d wanted since my power was revealed—my mother’s unique guidance.

Mother’s expression steadied, and beneath the exhaustion, I saw the woman she might have been if fear had not driven a wall between us.

“Dreams obey symbols more than distance,” she said. “If you need to reach me again, don’t search for the room. Search for Sylvia. My wolf is weak, but she still knows you. She recognized you before I had the courage to.”

Something inside me clenched, and I felt Alina stir within me, like she, too, recognized my mother’s wolf.

“Sylvia can help?”

“She can answer if I cannot. And Sera...” Mother leaned closer, her eyes suddenly fierce.

“Never enter Catherine’s mind directly unless you have no other choice. She leaves doors open on purpose. She makes cages look like invitations.”

A chill slipped down my spine.

“I know.”

“No,” Mother said, and the urgency in her tone made the silver circle flare again. “You know she is dangerous. You do not yet know how patient she is. Catherine does not simply trap people when they are weak. She waits until they become strong enough to believe they cannot be trapped.”

The warning settled heavily between us.

Then I heard it: a sound beyond the dream.

Footsteps.

Mother heard it too. All the color drained from her face.

“She’s coming,” she whispered.

My heart lurched. “Catherine?”

Mother turned toward the door, every line of her body tightening. “You have to go.”

“No.” The refusal tore out of me before I could stop it. “I just found you.”

“Sera, listen to me—”

“I’m coming for you.” My voice shook, but the promise inside it did not. “I swear to you, I’m coming. Kieran, Ethan, all of us—we know where she is now. We will find that island, that lab, wherever she has hidden you, and we will bring you home.”

Mother looked back at me, and the love in her face was so sudden, so naked, that it nearly broke me.

“I know,” she said. “I truly believe someone is coming for me.”

The footsteps drew closer.

The dream began to crack.

Mother lifted both hands, and faint, faded light gathered around her fingers, silver-gray and fragile, but warm.

“Remember,” she said quickly. “Inward first. Then outward. Find Sylvia if you need me. Trust the blood, but do not let it rule you.”

“Mother—”

“I love you, Sera. I will spend the rest of my life regretting that you ever believed otherwise.”

The words hit me like a blade wrapped in silk.

Before I could answer, Mother thrust both hands forward with sudden force, and the dream shattered around me.

I woke with a gasp in Kieran’s arms, moonlight spilling across the bed and silver fire racing beneath my skin.

Kieran was awake instantly.

“Sera?”

I clutched his wrist, breathless, trembling, feeling the fading echo of Mother’s room slipping away from the edges of my mind.

“We have to go,” I whispered.

Kieran went utterly still. “Go where?”

I looked up at him, tears burning hot in my eyes.

“We have to save my mother.”